Page 50 of Pucking Them
But fuck Dad.
I don’t bother to knock, pushing down the handle and striding into the office.
Dad breaks off mid-sentence and stares at me in shock.
Then his gaze narrows as he takes in how I am holding Cody’s hand. “What do you two want? Why didn’t you knock? I said that I wasn’t to be disturbed.”
Dad is seated on a leather chair behind his large desk.
Flatscreen monitors hang on the walls of the office. I wince, when I notice the stills from the game: each failed play, fumbled shot, and Shay’s fight.
D’Angelo and Shay are both standing, pale and exhausted in front of the desk.
I can tell by the way Shay is leaning on D’Angelo for support, hunched to the side, that his hip is hurting. He was knocked repeatedly into the boards over the course of the game.
Shay should be back at home being cared for by me, not being chewed out by Dad for hours.
How is that going to help?
Cody hisses out a sharp breath.
He breaks away from me to rush to Shay. “Is your hip hurting? And your shoulder? Let’s go and take a look?—”
“Stop,” Dad barks. “I’m in the middle of a meeting here.Out.”
Instead, I pad further into the office, throwing myself down in the seat in front of the desk.
D’Angelo arches his brow at my shoeless state. I wiggle my unicorn socks at him defiantly.
Dad sighs, as Cody ignores him as well, drawing Shay to sit in the other free seat.
“Slip off your sweater for me. I want to visually check your shoulder first, okay? Do you mind doing that here? We can go somewhere more private?” Cody suggests.
“I’m not leaving my captain to face the bloody music, when I’m the one who started a fight out there.” Shay achingly slowly struggles out of his sweater.
“And don’t think that we won’t be talking about that later,” D’Angelo says, coolly.
Shay winces.
It’s one of our agreed upon rules that Shay not become violent on or off the ice.
What the hell did Wilder say to Shay that made him lose control in a way that he hasn’t for months?
I try to ignore the bruising on Shay’s cheek, along with his swollen eye.
I need to stay focused on standing up to Dad, when I’m boiling with the same rage to punch Wilder in his smug face for doing this toShay’sbeautiful face.
“Have I become invisible? Am I not talking loudly enough?” Dad leans on the desk.
“No one could ever accuse you of that, coach,” D’Angelo replies.
“Don’t become cocky,” Dad growls. “We’re all here, rather than in our beds fucking sleeping, because you couldn’t hold it together on the ice.”
“You’re wrong.” My eyes flash. “They’re here because my psycho of an ex was on the ice when we never expected him to be. You talked about extra security, but after what happened last time, we need more than standard security.”
“How about a buddy system?” Shay grits his teeth, as Cody crouches in front of him, gently feeling over his bruised shoulder. “Something where both staff and players look out for each other, while those bastards are around.”
“How about you get your heads in the game and stop being such a bunch of pussies?” Dad huffs. “Are you going to throw away your shot at victory and this team’s legacy because you’re terrified of one man?”
