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The guys are mid way through exam week. These emails can only mean one thing.
Someone has fucked up.
3
LANDON
My phone dings on my nightstand.
Who the fuck is bothering me this early in the morning?!
My eyes remain closed as I roll over in my bed, wearing just my boxers with my inked chest exposed.
Reaching my hand out, I begin feeling around until I find it. Clicking the side button, I open my eyes to see it's only 8am.
Fuck my life.
Then I see a text from Coach.
Shit. This can’t be good.
Today was an optional workout day. So I know I’m not in trouble for that. Closing my eyes and raking my fingers through my black wavy hair, I try and think. What did I do?
The guy has eyes everywhere. It could be anything. I’m in one of my anti-social moods, so I haven’t gone out much other than to write my exams.
Fuck, come on. Think.
Yeah, when it comes to Coach. I’m a pussy. The guy doesn’t send a text to be polite. He only sends texts or calls if you’re in a giant pile of shit.
What the fuck did I do? Before I can figure it out, my brother, Hudson, comes storming in.
“We are fucked.”
Parking in the rink lot,I get out of my black Range Rover, and close the door behind me with Hudson following. Hud drove in with me after barging in my room and informing me that the text was a group chat for just us. And that Coach wanted us in his office within the next twenty minutes or he would come to us.
No way we were letting him come to the house. This is our sanctuary.
Hud and I got dressed as fast as we could and rushed to the rink.
We both had no fucking clue what we did. We also had no idea our coach knew how to group text, which was massively impressive. But it also means he is insanely pissed. Face red, horns showing kind of pissed.
It would make sense for Hudson to be getting in shit for something. He is loud about most things he does. Me though, I’m the quiet twin. The unsuspecting twin. I can get away with loads more than he can. But I haven’t done shit this week. So the fact that we were both called in, has me confused as fuck.
Hud has his pass out, ready to go as we approach the front doors to let us in. Racing through them, we jog toward the locker room. Passing the staff entrance, our footsteps can be heard echoing in the quiet cement hallways, painted white and gray with the green Groveton Jackal logo.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Hud shouts as I trail behind him.
Rolling my eyes, I give him the finger. I’m right fucking behind him.
“I fucking saw that.”
No, you didn’t.
We reach the green double doors at the end of the long hallway, and Hudson swipes his badge, pushing on the door to let us in.
The doors open up directly to the hallway that leads to the locker room, weight room, PT area and staff offices. The heavy steel doors close behind us, and make a loud click when they fall back into place.
“Get the fuck in my office. NOW!” Hud looks back at me, wide-eyed, as I throw my head back.
