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I gritted my teeth, pushing aside the urge to shove him off his blades. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”
“Don’t you know how this works?” He smirked. “As captain, you’re supposed to encourage good behavior for the team. You suck at this.”
I glared. “Fuck off.”
“Fuck you,” he retorted back just as quickly.
“You wish I’d let you fuck me.” I gave him the finger.
“Your mom’s obviously a gold-digging whore. If I pay her the right amount, she’ll let me fuck her.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I reacted without thought. I shot forward and smacked his shoulder with mine, and he flailed because it was an unexpected hit. When he regained his balance, he attacked, tackling me. My back slammed against the boards hard, and I gasped as the world tilted and spun, and my stomach trembled with nausea.
Coach’s yelling echoed in my ear, but I couldn’t hear what he said because I was too busy throwing my fists at Atlas, trying to land a hit even though I was wobbly and unstable on my feet. Atlas’s furious grunts were the only thing in my range of hearing, and when his fist met my jaw, I tipped over onto the ice with him right on top of me.
I groaned as my head pounded. I blinked up at him as he raised his hand again, but someone grabbed him from behind, dragging his solid weight off me. Then, Coach was in front of me, grasping my wrist as he pulled me to my feet. He hauled me off to the side of the rink, and I had no choice but to let him until he practically threw me onto the bench in the penalty box, right beside Atlas. One of the assistant coaches, Dane Hogan, glared at me from where he stood on skates just outside the box. Mitch Newby, the other assistant coach, paced in the center box to our right, shaking his head when he caught my eye.
Coach Hill’s face was a furious red, and I thought he would pop a vein in his forehead as he stared at us.
Finally, the world stopped spinning, and I was able to focus on him as he shoved a finger in our direction. “Enough. I actually want to win this year and rub it in Butler’s face, and we need both of you to do that. Get your shit together!”
I closed one of my eyes because that side of my brain hurt—or maybe it was the same half where Atlas hit me—and connected the dots of what Coach Hill was talking about. Butler was the coach from St. Loren, and while I hadn’t been here long enough to know the full story, Thane had told me Butler and Coach Hill had a huge-ass rivalry happening. Somehow, even though the schools were across the country, they hated each other.
“Get your fucking act together or I will have no choice but to kick you both off the team.” Coach Hill backed out of the penalty box and slammed the door shut, making the tempered glass shake under the force. It took a lot of pressure to make that type of glass shatter, but I’d seen it happen before when guys had gone through it after being bodychecked.
I slouched and groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “Fuck.”
Atlas grumbled, and when I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, he’d crossed his arms and let his chin rest on his chest. “You’re a dickhead.”
My mouth twisted in irritation. “And you’re a prick.”
He gave me the finger, and I resisted the urge to reach over and break it. That would get us kicked off the team for sure, and I couldn’t let that happen. Mom and I relied on this scholarship, and as much as I hated to say it, I wasn’t sure how Joseph would react if I was ejected, either. Would he make us move out and break up with Mom? I hated that I didn’t know his true intentions. I wanted to believe that he loved her, but it wasn’t easy to tell with a man like him. Look what he did to his son who worshiped him.
I stared out at the guys on the ice, watching as Coach Hill finally told them to stop skating laps around the rink. He got them doing drills next, and a wave of shame flooded me in a way it hadn’t in the past.
Being a figure skater before becoming a hockey player, it took me a while to understand working in a team rather than alone. Even though I’d played hockey as a kid, too, my focus had switched to figure skating when I’d realized I was good at it. I’d never really had a great relationship with the hockey guys back in Pleasant Beach, who’d always thought I’d been beneath them because of where I’d come from. I liked the players on the Polar Storms, though, and I wanted to win for not only me, but for them, too.
I sighed. “Listen, maybe we should—”
“Fuck off,” Atlas growled out, shooting me a shitty stare. “We’re not friends, Birdy, and we never will be.”
I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. Maybe he should’ve taken acting classes instead of playing hockey. “I didn’t ask to be your bestie, all right? I just want to make this work so we can get the job done. Don’t you want to win?”
“We canget alongwhen you fuck off from my team and take your mother with you.”
Anger surged in my already nauseated stomach, and I inhaled to calm down. “When are you going to learn that mentioning Mom never goes well for you?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“When are you going to learn that I don’t want you or her near me or my dad?” he snapped back.
I snorted. “You’re such a fucking baby. What are you, five?”
He crossed his arms, pressing his lips together tightly. Yep, definitely acting like a kid.
Ignoring him, I focused on what Coach Hill was doing with the team. I watched the plays he was running with them, and I grew antsy, even though I was still feeling very unwell. My knee began to bounce in anticipation of getting back out there, but Coach Hill made no move to come get us. I had a feeling we would be here for the entire training session.
About an hour or so after we had gotten thrown in the box, Joseph and Mom came into the rink and headed straight for us. I groaned when I saw Mom’s disappointed frown. I thought this situation couldn’t get any worse, but I was once again proven wrong.
Joseph rushed down the stairs until he got to the seats behind the box and came around, leaning over the glass with his arms along the length of it so he was looking down on us, both figuratively and literally. His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced between us in concern. “What happened?”
