Page 31 of Ice Queen

CHAPTER 11

Markus

“Samuels!” Coach Stevens yells from the doorway of the gym. “My office, now.”

I look down the line of bikes at my teammates, shrugging when all their eyes land on me. I swipe my towel off the handlebars and wipe the sweat dripping from my face as I follow behind my coach to his office.

“What’s up, Boss Man?” I ask, still out of breath from my interrupted workout.

He extends a stack of papers toward me, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other hand. “I don’t know what to even say about any of this.”

My heart plummets as I thumb through these papers. The top one is the article Kaitlyn had brought up yesterday. The one I didn’t even know existed until after therapy, when I sat in my car and read it three times. The rest of these are pictures from years ago. How do I know? My forearm doesn’t have my tattoo on it. But why are they resurfacing now?

“Coach, half of these pictures aren’t even recent.” I point to my arm.

He nods. “I know. So does Collins.”

I look back at the open door and decide it might be best to shut it, just in case. Returning to his desk, I set the papers down on the corner and bend until I’m eye level with him. “Am I being targeted on purpose? I’m doing what I can to keep myself clean, but that?” I point to the stack of papers, “I can’t do a damn thing about it. Someone had to dig to find those.”

His arms cross over his chest, his brow furrowing in the way he does when he’s deep in thought. He finally blows out a huff of air before bringing his eyes back to mine. “I don’t know, Markus. But both Collins and I know this isn’t recent. We just don’t know the motive.”

I take a deep breath, relaxing on the exhale over the knowledge that our owner knows I’m not out clowning around. But it doesn’t really explain or fix the problem. “Is it another team wanting you guys to drop me so they can pick me up?”

I cringe, realizing how self-righteous that sounded. “That’s not what I–”

He raises his hand. “I know. Teams have money, and players have a price. You know this as well as I do.” He sighs. “This is bringing unnecessary scrutiny to the organization.”

My head bows in front of me. “So I’m still on the chopping block.”

He chuckles, which makes my head raise and eyebrow hike in question. “Ultimately, that isn’t my decision to make, Samuels.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to need you to do some post-game press. Dispel all of it. Get the reporters to get back to talking about your game, not what you do off the ice. It’s gotta come from you.”

I nod, it makes sense. And truthfully, I don’t mind. Getting a chance to verbally spar with whoever it is trying to make me look like an unreliable asshole sounds like a little slice of heaven. “Sure thing, Coach. Can I ask you one more question?”

“Floors yours,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

It’s a thought I’ve had more than once, a thought that makes the most sense, even though I have no solid evidence of it… yet. “Did this whole mess start before or after Sterling got hired? Because I haven’t changed anything since I started with this team, and it only became an issue when he showed up.”

A low hum sounds from somewhere deep in his throat. “I don’t have an answer for you. I believe Savannah had something to do with his hiring. He came from Colorado. Did you happen to do anything nefarious after a game?”

I snort. “No, I remember commenting about how boring the Springs area is. There’s no nightlife, we ended up in some random bar that, if I remember correctly, Savannah was also at.” My head shakes in disbelief. “Plus, we played there like two months ago. Sterling was already here.”

He’s quiet for a minute, his eyes trailing over the tiles in the ceiling before he takes a breath and looks at me. “Listen, I’m not a fan of him either. But we deal with what we’ve been given. Reed’s already been in Collins’ ear about how not a good fit Sterling is for this team.”

Of course, he has. If anything threatens this team or the culture we’ve built, Reed is loud as hell about it until it gets fixed. I love that about him, he leads with integrity and with the best interest of the team at heart, even if it’s not necessarily what's best for him.

“Keep doing what you’re doing, it’ll all work out,” he says, leaning forward on his desk. “I just need you to do your part, shut it down publicly. Alright?”

“Got it, Coach.”

“Good, now get out,” he says with a smirk.

I pull the door open, my laughter filling the hallway. It doesn’t even falter when I notice who's standing at the end of it. I don’t know how he’s involved with what’s going on. But I know for sure, James Sterling is going to hate me even more by the time I get to the bottom of it.

“Oh come on!” I whine as Lettie pinches the skin right above my elbow. Her nails tighten, making me hiss. “¡Dios, Lettie! Me rindo.⁠*”

“Don’t make stupid comments, and I won’t have to pinch you.” She releases me from her grasp, and I immediately rub the crescent-shaped dents in my arm.

“All I said was ‘therapy isn’t helping.’” Which is a total lie. I just don’t know that I believe it’ll fix me permanently.