AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She lets out a sigh as she presses her lips together, clearly deep in thought. The drive is short and within a few minutes, we’re stepping through the doors of the rink. I find Coach leaning up against the barrier, talking schedules with the head figure skating coach.
The Figure Fairies skate around the ice, and for the millionth time, I’m absolutely stumped with how the hell they do that shit. I mean, fuck. They have toe picks to think about. It’s a suicide mission.
Coach’s eyes flick to me the second he notices someone approaching, and as he takes me in, a furious scowl settles over his features. Seeing Charli beside me, he narrows his gaze on her, and I see the question in his eyes. He’s probably wondering if this is her influence, and honestly, the idea infuriates me. “You,” Coach says, pointing at me. “With me. You,” he adds, turning his finger toward Charli. “Sit.”
Charli swallows hard, her eyes wide as if she’s just been caught drawing dicks on the librarian’s car by the school principal. She lets go of my hand, and I give Coach a nod as he turns his back and storms in the direction of his office. “You’ll be okay out here?” I ask Charli as she promptly drops her ass onto the bench.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says. “I love watching ice skating. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.”
“You’ve got that right,” I murmur as I step away.
She latches onto my hand, and I turn back. “Whatever happens in there, just remember. I love you.”
My chest fills with emotion as I look down at my future. “Love you, too, babe.”
Charli gives me an encouraging smile and releases my hand, her wide eyes giving me the courage to go on. I head down the hallway leading to Coach Harris’ office with an awful feeling inside my gut. I hesitate for a moment before knocking on the open door, despite him knowing I’m already here.
“Take a seat,” he grunts as he looks up from his computer, his emotions radiating from his vicious stare.
I do as I’m told and make it quick, not wanting to fuck around. After all, a quick game is a good game. “What can I do for you, Coach?” I ask.
His eyes shoot daggers at me, and it’s clear he’s mightily pissed off. “Don’t bullshit me, Phillips. You know exactly why you’re here.”
“Yes, sir,” I say. I may as well own it. “I do.”
“Underground fighting?” he confirms, his voice raising a notch in disbelief. I give a curt nod, letting him know we’re on the same page. “How could you be so fucking stupid? You realize I have no choice but to expel you from the team? There’ll be a fucking investigation. Fuck your career, what about the boys? They could go down for this bullshit too. Do you understand that? Everything they’ve worked for. Their whole fucking careers are on the line. My career is on the line.”
Fuck. Hit me right where it hurts.
“Yes, sir,” I say, giving him the respect he deserves.
He stands, slamming his hands down on his desk as he hangs his head, needing a moment to calm down. He breathes. Slow inhale. Slow exhale. Repeat. Straightening up, he runs a hand down his face, staring at me as though he doesn’t even recognize me. “What were you thinking getting involved in fighting? And an Underground tournament at that.”
“Honestly, Coach, I was thinking that professional fighting is what I want to do. The NHL is my father’s dream, not mine,” I tell him, giving it to him straight. “I was taking a step in my own direction.”
He lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “If this isn’t what you want, then why the hell did you transfer here and spend half a season on my team?” he questions. “Do you know how many fucking applications I have? How many other kids would have killed for your position? Those kids wanted to be here. They deserved to be here.”
“I know. It’s a poor excuse, and I apologize for wasting your time. However, I was given no choice. You’ve met my father, you know what he’s like,” I explain. “My whole life, he’s made it clear that my future is the NHL. I’ve never wanted that, Coach. I never wanted to live in his shadow.” Letting out a heavy breath, I meet his eyes. “I started MMA when I was eleven and knew after my very first session that’s what I wanted to do. My father practically kicked my ass when he learned I’d been training in fighting, and he made it clear that if I ever strayed from the plan, I’d lose everything.”
His brows furrow in question. “How so?”
“Anything with monetary value would be taken to teach me a lesson, and I’d be disowned. My father has set up my life so that I am constantly depending on him. College fees are paid month by month, my trust account has a daily limit, and even my home and truck are in his name, all so he can use it as leverage against me,” I scoff, almost embarrassed to be admitting this. “His plan has always been the same. Come the end of next season, if I don’t sign on the dotted line and get into the NHL, I can kiss it all goodbye. I’ll be out on the streets with nothing.”
