Page 95 of Hot Shot
“He had it coming,” I grind out.
They know who he is. I warned them during morning skate. I figured they deserved to know what might happen so they could be prepared.
Wes says something but I ignore him, grabbing my water bottle and trying to calm the anger simmering beneath the surface.
Coach comes in and talks strategy for the third period. I only hear half of what’s being said.
“Rhodes. My office. Now,” Coach barks.
Fuck me.I get to my feet and head to his office.
“What the hell is going on?” Coach asks once I’m seated.
“He had it coming.”
“This isn’t like you. You’re not a fighter. Yet you go get into a fight with the Fury’s biggest defender.” He laughs. “And you ended up with a Fury fighting for you.”
I run a hand through my hair as all the adrenaline leaves. Suddenly I feel every hit and punch.
My shoulders sag and I drop my head, mumbling, “Sorry, Coach.”
He nods, looking me up and down. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but get it together. You’re benched for the rest of the game.”
Shit.
“You okay?” Holt slaps me on the back as he makes his way over to his stall to get dressed.
We won last night’s game against the Fury, but Coach still rode us hard during practice this morning.
I’m ready to go home and take a nap before Madison comes over. After everything that’s gone down in the past twelve hours, I can’t wait to hold her in my arms.
“Fine.”
“What are you wearing?” Wes asks, a little too loudly, and the rest of the locker room goes silent.
“Huh?” I glance down, realizing that I’m wearing a pair of boxer briefs that Madison gave me for Christmas. They have slices of cake in different colors all over them. I stand and wiggle my hips so they can take in their full glory. “Don’t you like them?”
“What the fuck, man.” He swats at me and rolls his eyes.
“You’re just jealous I have a girlfriend who gifts me things like this, and you don’t.” I’m laughing now and dancing around the two of them.
“Whipped,” Wes stage whispers to Holt although his voice isn’t quiet. I tip my head back and laugh even harder.
“You alright?” Brody walks up to us, a towel around his waist, his hair wet.
“I think he had too much coffee this morning.” Holt points at me.
“How the hell do you have this much energy after that brutal practice?” Brody drops to the bench with a groan.
“Because I’m not in my midthirties,” I say with a smack to his shoulder. I sit back down and pull on my jeans.
Brody shakes his head, and we finish getting dressed in silence.
“Alright. I’m out.” I get to my feet and grab my bag. “See you all later.”
“Dinner tonight at my place?” Wes asks.
“Sorry. Can’t.” I feel bad saying no to my friend.
