Chapter 11 A week has passed since our celebratory party...and we lost both of the games we played since. Perhaps the celebration was a little premature. I'm wound tightly all through today's early morning practice, and it shows in my performance on the ice. I'm still kicking myself for making a stupid mistake during our last game that practically handed the other team a win on a silver platter. A mistake my linemate won't let me forget anytime soon. It was already difficult being on the same line as Sandine with him not-so-affectionately referring to me as Nepo Baby, and then him being a total dick to Ally last week at our party...but now he'll barely pass me the damn puck. How the hell am I supposed to improve my game if my own damn teammate won't work with me? We've been working with our power play coach all morning, and we're running through one last drill before practice ends. My teammates are split up, half wearing white practice jerseys and playing as the away team, and the other half donning purple as the home team. Sandine and I are both wearing purple, unfortunately, and I can only assume the power play coach lumped us together in an attempt to make us cooperate with one another. Not that it's doing any good. Sandine currently has the puck, and I'm wide open. I look at him, hoping to make eye contact, but he ignores me. The other guys wearing purple are all surrounded. But does he pass to me, even though this is just practice and not even a real game? Nope. He passes the puck to Carver, who doesn't catch it. Fisher-who's in a white jersey-rushes it to our defensive end and scores on a breakaway. When the puck hits the back of the net, he whistles and flaps his arms like an eagle. Loveable idiot. Coach Anderson blows his whistle loudly and waves an arm for us to gather around him by the bench. "Fisher, good work out there today," Coach says, causing Fisher to preen under his attention. "Sandine, you need to keep your head up. Pass to players who are open and close to the net whenever possible. Downsby was wide open back there, and you didn't see him." Coach arches one dark eyebrow to drive his point home. Sandine's jaw tics, but he nods in agreement. Coach Anderson and Coach Slater give the guys a few more tips, and then we're off to the locker room. I barely have my pads off when someone bumps into me and sends me tumbling against the wall. I catch myself with my hands planted on the wall and turn just in time to see Sandine striding by like nothing happened. I grind my teeth together hard. I'm not the guy to start fights and stir up drama in the locker room. I like to keep a lid on my emotions, and I rarely get into brawls on the ice or take penalties, either. But right now, I want to punch him. The urge is so strong I clench my fists together at my sides. Penn steps forward. The guy is super chill by nature, but he's also never one to back down from a tussle. "You got a problem, Sandine?" He smirks. "I mean, besides the inability to pass to open players?" Sandine stops and turns to give us a withering look. "I pass to teammates that I trust. Teammates that earned their spot here and don't take stupid penalties with five minutes left in a tied game." "We're all going to make mistakes, man. Even you. That tripping call was a pucking joke, and we all know it," Penn says. Fisher clears his throat, and we look over to see him completely undressed aside from his gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Phone in hand, he reads, "Sandine's penalties last season were as follows: five for high sticking, two for too many men on the ice, five for tripping, and two goals withdrawn for being offside." Fisher blows out a dramatic deep breath. "Boys, if I were you, I'd be careful before passing a puck to Sandy here." Sandine seethes, his face growing red. But instead of snapping back at Fisher's sass, he turns all that anger on me. "You like having these two fight all your battles for you, Nepo Baby?" I open my mouth to speak, but then I see Coach Anderson appear right behind Sandine. I don't know how long he's been in the room, or how much he's heard. "Sandine," Coach says, his voice eerily calm. Sandine turns to look at him. "I suggest treating your teammates with respect. Every man in this room deserves his place here, including our rookies. They were not only drafted by the Lions organization, but they were also selected after a grueling training camp. Only the players who stood out to management got a contract. The rest were sent to the AHL to gain experience." My brother-in-law is slightly taller than Sandine and looks down at him with his arms crossed. "This isn't high school, and we don't bully each other in our locker room. Understood?" "Understood," Sandine spits out, his face scarlet. "Glad to hear we are on the same page." Coach Anderson turns and strides toward the door. Before he leaves, he calls over his shoulder, "Downsby, my office as soon as you've showered." With that, he's gone, and in an instant Sandine goes from red-faced and berated to wearing a huge smirk again. Mitch has no idea he just made everything so much worse. Now I just look like a total pussy. "Unbelievable," Sandine scoffs, walking away with completely misplaced big dick energy. I want to run from the room in embarrassment, but that won't help me look tough and like I can hold my own. And the worst part is, Sandine isn't wrong for being frustrated with me. I can't remember the last time I got a penalty for something so stupid as tripping. I swear the Renegades captain did that on purpose, making it look like something it wasn't. But I've played with dirtbags before, and I know I should've been more careful. Should have had my head one hundred percent in the game. As much as I wanted to stay focused this season and not allow myself to grow complacent now that I've made it to the NHL, I can feel myself growing distracted. It's been this way ever since last Sunday, when Ally and I sat side by side on the couch, and it felt like we were tied together with an invisible string...and that thread seemed to pull tighter between us as we watched her dumb show. I keep dreaming about her, and it's messing with my head. Then I wake up and the scent of her perfume surrounds me-it's everywhere. She's everywhere. Laughing in the kitchen as she cooks her unhealthy, processed food while chatting to Fisher. Lying on the couch next to Penn as he teaches her ridiculous Canadianisms. Showering right before me with damn Harry Styles-the person, not the cat-cranked on her phone speakers. And speaking of the damn cat, it now sleeps with me every night...another reason I'm probably sleeping like crap. Knowing she's steps away all night long is harder than I thought it would be. If I could just tamp down this attraction, ignore it. But whenever I turn around, she's right there, smelling like a freshly baked cake in the middle of a field of wildflowers. Which is an absolutely absurd thought, but here I am. Losing my mind. Maybe I should take a card from Penn and Fisher's playbook and hook up with someone. Take the edge off. But somehow, I know it wouldn't help. Because I'd come back home after and Ally would be standing there holding her stupid cat with her stupid long, tan legs. Thoughts of my roommate permeate my mind the entire time I'm showering and getting dressed. By the time I make it to Mitch's office, my spine is so stiff it feels like it could snap at the smallest nudge. My brother-in-law-turned-coach is waiting for me, sitting on his desk with his ankles crossed. I slump down in one of the brown leather chairs across from his desk. "You okay, Noah?" His tone is gentle, like it's been all the times he's stepped in and been a replacement father to me over the years. I always appreciated having a good man to look up to, having someone be a father figure. But right now he's pissing me off. "No, I'm not okay." I huff a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "The guys have given me the nickname Nepo Baby, and right when I was about to defend myself...guess who shows up to save the baby?" I raise my eyebrows. Mitch grimaces. "Sorry." "Yeah, nothing like Daddy Mitch saving the day." He shoots me an unamused glance. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things worse. I didn't realize they were being such assholes to you." I run a hand through my damp hair. "Did you put me on the first line because I'm your brother-in-law?" My chest tightens anxiously as I await his answer. "Hell no. You really think I'd do that?" He uncrosses his ankles and stands. "I know this is your rookie season, Noah. But in many ways, it's my rookie season, too. I'm not going to do you any favors, because I want to win games. I want to prove myself as a coach." He sits in the chair beside mine. "I put you there because your strengths paired well with the other guys on that line. And for the record, it wasn't even my idea. It was Slater's. I just happened to agree with him." I blow out a deep breath. "Okay." "I realize it's awkward for you to have me as your coach, but give it some time and the other guys will see for themselves what you can do. Then they'll just be glad you're on their team and not anyone else's." I roll my eyes. Mitch smirks. "I'm going to tell you something, but you have to keep this to yourself." I glance at him from the side and nod. "You know Joey Garner?" I sniff. "The Lions team owner? Of course I know him." "He has your college jersey in a glass case." He pauses, arching one eyebrow. "And he hung it right next to the Gretzky jersey in his man cave," Mitch whispers. My eyes widen. "You're kidding." "I swear I'm not. He's had his eye on you all through college, kid." Mitch grins. A wave of relief hits me so strong, I'm glad to be sitting down. Mitch might be a rookie NHL coach, but he clearly knew exactly what he was doing by telling me that-because for me, just hearing the assistant coach and the owner of the Lions believe I'm of value to the team is enough to tamp down some of those doubts that Carver and Sandine planted in my head. Mitch slaps a hand onto my back. "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight? Your nieces have been begging to see you." I smile, feeling much lighter than when I initially walked into this office. "Yeah, that sounds good." It's just an added bonus that having dinner at Mitch and Andie's will give me some much needed space from Ally. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!