“Oh my God.” She pulls her other earbud out of the opposite ear. “Let me ask you something, Rhodes McKnight,” she spits. I’d never seen Monroe angry before. Annoyed, sure. That’s like her general state of being. But angry?Nope.
“If I took away your ability to play the way you do, the very reason you fucking breathe, and gave you half of what you have now, told you you’d never make the playoffs again, strip you of your team and your talent and your titles,” her voice was low now, dangerous. “Would you still get on the ice?”
“I’d rather have less ice than no ice at all,” I replied easily. It was true. Skating is in my blood. There isn’t a world in which I can even imagine not spending hours on the ice every single day.
She lets out a bitter laugh at my response. “You’re wrong,” she says. “You think so. But you’re wrong.” She levels a glare at me again, breaking eye contact as she places the earbuds back in her ears and continues scrubbing at the baseboards.
I’ve clearly been dismissed, and I still have no idea why she’s working at the rink. If she is so miserable,why is she here?
I’m still standing up when I hear her.
“You wouldn’t want to even be near the ice,” she mutters. I stare at the back of her head for a moment before I can get my feet to move.
I’m still thinking about her words when I get to the locker room.
The scalding water of my shower is enough to wake me up. I’m pissed. Pissed at Jax. Pissed at myself for not being enough for my team. For letting my dad get in my head. For letting Coach Abrams down.
It’s another forty minutes before I’m finished getting dressed. I pass Monroe on my way out. She’s moved on to cleaning the windows, completely ignoring me. I shove open the rink doors, flexing my fists as I get back to my car.
Now I’m pissed at Monroe, too, wasting whatever talent she has left to scrub toilets. Letting the other girls on the National team talk to her like dirt.
My phone buzzes in my center console and a call lights up on my screen.
Dad calling. Again.
I hit ignore.Again.
* * * *
“Rhodes!”I’m roused from my afternoon couch nap by banging on my front door.
I close my eyes. Beck. I know the second I sit down face-to-face with him, he’s going to see directly past my bullshit. I can hide how much I’m struggling at practice because it’s so fast-paced, and there is very little one-on-one time with any of the guys.
I haven’t told him my dad is calling again. He doesn’t know how close I am to being off the team. He’s my best friend and he’d do anything for me, but like everyone else, he has his own stuff to deal with.
“Go away!” I yell back. He is so tired of my shit right now.
“I will rip the door off its hinges, Rhodes! Let me in!”
I sigh and roll off my couch, sauntering slowly to the front door on purpose. I yank it open and Beck comes barreling into my front entryway.
He’s holding a six-pack of beers and a pizza, and I grin despite myself. I take the beers from him and heslaps me on the shoulder, probably just barely keeping himself from giving me a hug.
Beck is touchy like that.
He’s been my best friend since we were both drafted two years ago for the Wolverines. We were new on the team, fresh off the draft and eager to prove ourselves. Beck was a killer skater, a solid teammate, and he was fucking nice to everyone. While he was busy making friends with the entire team, I was more guarded, less willing to focus on anything other than the game.
The only reason I am as well-liked as I am is because of Beck.
“All right, dude,” he says, munching on a slice of pepperoni pizza. He takes a swig of his beer to swallow it down. I raise my eyebrows in question.Here we go.
“You’ve been hiding.” I open my mouth to argue, but he holds up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I know you, Rhodes. I let you wallow and sulk, but now we’re doing this.” I shut my jaw, resigned. “What’s going on, man? Coach has been on your ass. You’re suspended.”
I exhale a heavy sigh and rub my hand on the back of my neck. “Coach threatened to send me to the minor leagues, too.” I wince.
“What the hell?” Beck sets his beer down. I nod.
“Yeah. Coach said my lack of leadership and fights on the ice were enough to make him reconsider my position on the team.”