Page 15 of Like a Power Play
“Oh, my daughter braids her hair like that too.”
Would’ve been nice if she’d dropped the name at leastonce!
The sink water in the locker room is cold on my hands, making them tremble as I scrub them together, or maybe it’s just the nerves surrounding my potential demise. I splash some onto my cheeks, the sharp chill biting into my skin, sending a shiver that ripples through me. Droplets trace the curve of my face before dripping down, leaving behind a faint sting. I stare at myself in the mirror, the reflection slightly distorted by the moisture, my eyes heavy and tired.
What.
The.
Fuck.
A loud creak interrupts my internal spiral, the metal door swinging open, slamming against the wall. My gaze snaps over, landing on a head of flowy red hair, lingering in the doorway. Darcy props the door open with her foot, her thin, gloved fingers gripping a clipboard that matches her mother’s, and I wonder now how I didn’t see it before.
Maybe it’s because Coach’s hair is brown, and thin, or maybe because Darcy towers over my 5’4” stance, but the straight narrowness of her nose, the freckles scattered across her cheeks like constellations, it’s unmistakable now.
“Coach says you better get your ass back on the ice.” Her gaze snaps back to me, and my gut twists, brow twitching like it’s got a mind of its own. I swipe at the water on my cheeks, but it doesn’t soothe the tingling sensation washing over my skin.
I should learn from my mistakes. Just nod, comply, pretend like we’ve never met. But there’s something about the way she looks at me that makes my blood hot. Maybe it’s the superiority in her eyes, or the way she cut me down the other morning. Or maybe it’s the fact that sheknewwe’d be seeing each other today—and didn’t say a damn word about it.
The words claw their way up my throat, and before I can stop myself, I snap. “Nice of you to mention you’re the student coach. Or, y’know, Coach’sdaughter.”
My arms fold across my chest, a wall I know won’t do a damn thing to protect me. Darcy’s already proven to be a pin, digging under my skin in a way nobody else has ever managed. I can handle assholes. Hell, I can even enjoy the challenge of them. But assholes who act like they’reinnocent? That’s something else entirely.
Darcy tilts her head. “You never asked.”
“Oh, so I’m just supposed to go around asking everyone about their family ties?”
“You’regoing to talk about family ties?” She scoffs. “You know, if you pulled your inflated head out of your ass for more than a second, you might’ve realized I actually knew enough to help you.”
I can’t suppress the sour laugh that tumbles from my lips. “Please. The only thing you’ve helped me with is confirming my suspicions.”
Darcy’s brow quirks, and she steps closer. “Which are?”
“That coach’s daughters areentitled brats.”
Oof, Peyton. Low blow.
Darcy’s eyes narrow, and her lips purse like she’s savoring the insult she’s about to drop. “Says the daughter of the retiredNHL legend.”
“Hey, I’ve earned my spot on this team,” I shoot back, but the waver in my voice doesn’t convince her any more than it convinces me.
The corner of her mouth twitches, and the bubbling pit in my stomach broils into molten lava. “Sure.” She shrugs, her expression stiffening into something colder. “But you can lose it just as easily.”
With that, she spins on her heel, and the door slams behind her with a harshclang.
Shit.
I follow, my skates scraping against the ice as I shuffle back on. The moment my blades meet the surface, every set of eyes locks onto me, like I’ve just walked out of the grave.Fuck. Am I dead? Did Darcy already finish me off in the locker room and I just don’t know it?
I glide toward my teammates, whipping around to get in line, the movement making my stomach tense. Bailey leans in, her arm brushing against mine as she whispers.
“We’re caught.”
I don’t divert my gaze from Coach Cole, but I feel my brow cock.
“What do you mean?” I whisper back, but Coach clears her throat, and Bailey jumps, straightening herself back up.
“Nice of you to join us again, Captain,” she chides disapprovingly. “I was just telling these fine players of yours that I have azero-tolerance policyfor hangovers at practice.”
