"I don't care what's happening out there. I don't care what's happening in here. I've got a daughter, so believe me, I know families are complicated. Yours just went primetime, and that's a raw deal, and I'm sorry." He stops in front of Beck and gets right in his face. "But in four minutes, you put on that jersey, and out there you're not brothers. You're a fuckingteam!"
"Yes, Coach," Beck mutters.
"Ten thousand people bought tickets to watch you play hockey tonight," Coach continues, moving from Beck to Mason. "So you're gonna go out there and give it to them. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," Mason nods stiffly.
Coach's face scrunches some more, looking at each of us from head to toe. Then he plants himself directly in front of me, holding my gaze before shaking his head.
"Andyou. You're supposed to be the smart one. The one who holds this whole circus together." He gestures vaguely at Beck and Mason, both still breathing hard, both still refusing to look at each other. "And instead I walk in here and find you three going at it like a bunch of golden retrievers fighting over the last tennis ball."
"Coach—"
"I'm not finished." He plants a hand on my shoulder, and the weight of it is enough to make my knees want to buckle. "You're the captain, Morrison. That means when the room's on fire, you're the one who's supposed to be holding the hose. Notthrowing gasoline on it because your little brother hurt your feelings."
"Understood," I mutter.
"Good." Coach straightens, tugging at the collar of his suit. "Because in about three minutes, ten thousand people are gonna be screaming your names, and every single camera in that building is gonna be pointed at this room's dirty laundry, hoping it flaps in the wind a little more."
I nod, but remain silent.
"You want to have your little feud? Fine. Have it after. Bleed all over each other in the parking lot for all I care. But for the next sixty minutes, you're the Beachside Bears, and the Beachside Bears do not implode in front of a sold-out crowd because somebody's got their panties in a twist. Now fix your faces, because right now you all look like shit."
The rest of the room holds still, like they're waiting for the motivational speech we usually get. Coach just flaps a hand in the air and heads for the door.
"That's the whole speech. I had a better one but those assholes ruined the mood."
Somewhere behind me, Finn exhales, "Cracking stuff, Coach."
I swipe at my lip as Beck bends down and picks up his gloves. He doesn't look at me. He looksthroughme, and somehow, that's worse.
He still doesn't get it.
He doesn't get that I've been protecting him from exactlythis.
From the hurt, the fighting, the slow unravelling of an entire family all because of one pathetic man's actions.
In a huff, I finish getting dressed and we file into the tunnel. Music is blaring from the arena, and the pulsing blue LEDs and gold letters on the wall glow before my eyes:THEY CAME FOR THE BEACH. WE STAYED FOR THE FIGHT.
Yep. We stayed for the fight alright.
For the first time since I got here, my brothers aren't beside me as I walk the tunnel toward the rink. Beck's ten feet ahead. Mason's ten feet back.
And the one person I actually want to be here, might just have gone into hiding herself.
The tunnel ends, and the world explodes as I burst onto the ice.
The Bear Cave isfull.
Every seat, every row, all the way up into the rafters, a heaving wall of blue and gold meets my eyes. I see kids on their parents shoulders, bouncing to the beat of the music and screaming along to the recorded bear roar shaking the glass as I skate close to the boards, taking it all in.
There's a grandmother in the second row holding a sign that says BEACH BUMS NO MORE. Rico's up in section 112 waving what appears to be a foam taco.
It's incredible.
Two months ago we played to four hundred people and a pathetic echo every time we made a pass.
Now Josie has done…this.
