Page 76 of Like a Power Play
So beautiful, in fact, that nothing should spoil it. But then Caydence steps right in front of me, and I’m instantly proven wrong. She glances over her shoulder, eyeing me up and down judgingly, before turning back to the view.
“You figure out why yet?” she asks smugly.
I shoot her an annoyed look. “Why what?”
She rolls her eyes with exaggerated flair, letting out a huff as she turns fully to face me. “Why little miss coach’s daughter over there dropped her spot on a pro league.” She juts her chin toward Darcy, who’s lazily curled up in a hammock, her long hair catching in the breeze as she scribbles on her clipboard.
I watch her, for just a beat too long, before looking back to Caydence. “Why do you give a shit?”
Caydence quirks an eyebrow, her lips curving into an amused challenge. “Don’t you? I figuredyouof all people would be digging for answers.” Her gaze drifts from my scuffed sneakers up to my eyes, and it nearly makes me shudder. “Or maybe you’re too busy digging forother things.”
My brows drop, nose scrunching in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs all innocently, and I might not be the sharpest blade on the ice, but I’m smart enough not to fall for it. “Nothing. Just, I’ve noticed the way you two look at each other. And I saw your arm hooked in hers the night of—”
I cut her off before she can say more, taking a step forward and lowering my voice so that nobody overhears. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Cay,” I shoot, my patience thinning. “I see what you’re doing here. And it’s not going towork. If you’re too blind to see that Darcy and I can hardly stand each other, then—”
Caydence tilts her head, that condescending expression creeping across her face. “You two sure talk a lot for people who can’t stand each other.”
“She’s the student coach; I’m the team captain. We don’t really have a choice.” I start to turn away, but then stop, spinning back around to get the last word. “And for the record? I can’t standyou, and yet here we are.”
Then, I storm off.
Mean? Probably. Immature? Definitely. Regret it? Not for a second.
As captain, I’m supposed to carry myself with a certain level of maturity. I set an example for the rest of the team. But I also have a responsibility to keep my players in check, and Caydence has a way of skating the line just to see how far she can push it.
The idea that something’s going on between Darcy and me? Laughable. I mean sure, whatever happened—or as she so delicately pointed out,didn’t happen—in the locker room was confusing. And yeah, I was maybe slightly tempted to kiss her last night when she looked down at me with those dangerous emerald eyes. But just yesterday morning, I was genuinely worried she’d kill me. And okay, now that I know she was almost in the PWHL, her advice might actually carry some credibility, but that doesn’t change the fact that she still drives me absolutely insane.
She’s still the same bossy, annoying Darcy. Only now, she has more reason to be.
I pass Indie, gently patting Mr. Bubbles on the head, then Harlowe, who’s picking pine needles and leaves out of Bailey’s hair. I frown as I walk by, stopping to call out, “What the hell happened to you guys?”
Bailey scowls, shooting a look at Harlowe that’s sharp as knives, then back at me. I direct my question toward Harlowe instead.
“What the hell did you do?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest like a parent. Harlowe presses her lips together in a tight, sheepish line.
“Nothing.”
Bailey’s eyes narrow, and she spins to face her. “Bullshit!You—”
I don’t stick around for the drama. They might be my monkeys, but right now, I’mnotin the mood to run the circus. Instead, I turn and head toward Darcy. I’ve left her alone for most of this hike. Time to annoy her a little.
“Whatcha doin’?” I ask, watching that little crease form at the center of her brows. It’s my favorite thing about bothering Darcy—how that crease deepens every time. Sure, I love the pouty lips and her sarcastic comebacks, but that divot, the freckle that vanishes into it?
God, it’s hypnotic.
Darcy doesn’t even look up. She just keeps writing, adjusting her clipboard slightly to catch the light.
“What does it look like, Icarus?” she drawls, not breaking her focus.
I trace the inside of my cheek with my tongue, fighting the grin creeping up on me. When she calls me that damn nickname, everything gets foggy. I hate how that word sounds, I really do, but the way she says it… Yeah, it’s starting to stick.
“What are you always doing with this thing?” I ask, reaching for the clipboard. She quickly pulls it away, tucking it against her chest as always.
“I fail to see how that concerns you,” she replies, shooting me a narrowed look.
My expression twists into a mock, and I stick a finger up in the air, bobbing my head around as I repeat the sentence in a grating, high-pitched voice. “I fAiL tO sEe hOw tHaT cOnCeR—”
