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ATLAS
Three dayswithout a car and I was already regretting having a fucking meltdown and getting caught by Dad—not that I’d planned on destroying one of his most expensive possessions in the first place. All in all, though, Wy had been much nicer than I’d expected about taking me with him in the mornings and waiting around for me when our classes didn’t line up.
But it sucked that I needed to ask him to help me.
Things with Dad had been tense, but shockingly, he hadn’t said anything new about the car. Normally he would’ve had something else to say by now, some snide comment or eyebrow raised in my direction delivered along with some tangentially related bullshit. But not this time. He hadn’t even made eye contact with me since he’d bitched at me, and while I was happy, it was also weird. The change in him made me worry a bit.
Had I finally pushed him too far?
Fuck it, he was leaving me alone and that was good. I would take the wins any way I could get them.
The sound of blades cutting along the ice nearby made me glance up as Malinsky and Boss sailed past fighting over a puck. The air in the hockey rink felt colder than usual today, since it was almost ninety degrees outside. I frowned and studied everyone on the ice as the guys worked on quickly pulling a puck out of a corner. There were twelve men on the ice right now, divided into two teams, while everyone else was working in the weight room with our trainer.
“Why can’t they do this better?” Wy groaned under his breath, cupping his face. He slid his blades back and forth on the ice like he wanted to rush around and do everything himself.
We weren’t working with the others because I was trying to walk him through the playbook. It was harder to see the overall picture on the ice when you were actually running a spot in the play—or at least, that’s how I felt about it. So, here we were, standing around, more or less, and calling it practice.
“Keep your eyes on Miloševic. See what he’s doing?” I asked, pointing at him. I rested my hand on Wy’s shoulder, and his gaze darted from the ice to my face, but when I grunted, he watched Miloševic barrel through two other people who had tried to lock him against the boards. They didn’t stand a chance.
Nearby Boss skated around lazily because he was supposed to be protecting the goal in this scenario, and he kept flashing me amused smiles that I was going to slap right off his face with my hockey stick if he didn’t stop. The jerk.
The guys battled it out against each other near the far goal, and Wy craned his neck to get a better look at what was going on.
“Go up there,” I said. “Or maybe we should go into the stands if you want a good view.”
He glanced at me. “They’ll be done by the time I get near them.”
“You’re the captain. Make some shit up. Tell them they were sloppy and to run the play again so you can watch it,” I murmured.
He grinned and nodded, then skated toward the far goal.
Boss gave me another shit-eating grin and skated backward near me, tapping his stick on the ice.
I glared at him. “What?”
He shimmied his shoulders.
I crossed my arms. “Asshole. What do you want?”
“Is it physically hurting you to be nice to him?” He flashed me a wide smile.
Irritation had me glaring, but part of me was also amused and my lips eventually twitched toward a small grin. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”
“I don’t know. Things are operating much more smoothly here without you at his throat.” He fluttered his eyelashes at me. “Now, you’re just after his—”
“Boss!”
He laughed and winked, skating away like a fucker when I started toward him. I spotted Rain watching with interest from the front row, no doubt making notes for Coach Hill. He glanced toward me, then back out onto the ice, and I knew the little sneak was probably gathering more info for the gossip he would spread, but I wasn’t sure how much I cared.
Otis Harvey groaned as he skated past toward the goal closest to me. His amber eyes were practically spitting fire in my direction.
“What’s wrong?” I called.
“Goddamn it. It’s just grabbing the puck from a corner. Why are we doing this?” His Texan accent bounced around the ice and almost everyone turned to look at us.
I shrugged. “So that next time we pull it off without a bunch of bullshit. Why else do we practice?”
He laughed and skated away, shaking his head.
