Don’t You Pucking Dare (The Blackridge Reapers #2)

Chapter 22

The Ravens are three games deep into the season, and my shoulders ache from the extra hours I've been putting in. I've been grinding to be considered for the center position, showing up before dawn, staying late until the Zamboni guy has to kick me out. Coach Jacobs noticed. The Reapers noticed too, and their word carries weight in ways most people don't understand.

Ice shavings coat my practice jersey as I work on faceoff drills. My practice win percentage has jumped from sixty to seventy-five in the past two weeks. Each draw is about timing, about reading your opponent's tension before they even move. Like most things in life—anticipate, then dominate.

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead as I strip off my gear in the locker room. Everything smells like sweat and rubber. My practice jersey's soaked through—proof of the extra hundred puck handles I forced myself to do after team drills.

"Sloane's been asking about you." Thatcher's voice carries across the room. He's halfway dressed, fresh bruise blooming on his shoulder from a board check.

I shake my head, remembering last weekend. One drunk hookup and suddenly she's trying to stake a claim. Typical.

"She wants to know if she should come to the next game." Thatcher grins, enjoying this too much. "I told her I don't give a fuck what she does." He's been different since getting involved with the Reapers—darker, more confident. Getting his hands dirty has changed him.

I smack his shoulder right on the bruise. "You're right. I don't give a fuck if she comes or not."

"What about Lola Kemper?" Caleb drops her name like a grenade into the conversation.

My head snaps up, eyes finding his. Even with Jack absent, hearing her name in someone else's mouth sets my teeth on edge.

"Under my jurisdiction," I mutter. The words come out like ice. Lola's a game I'm playing carefully—this calculated dance of avoidance and possession. She knows I'm ghosting her. Probably knows why. But girls like her, they always come back for more. Normal guys, normal relationships—they'll never be enough once you've had a taste of darkness.

Coach Jacobs' office smells like coffee and old hockey tape. The walls are covered in team photos, championship banners, memories of glory I plan to add to.

"If you want center position for the next game, it's yours." He leans back in his chair, studying me. "Long as you keep pushing hard and proving yourself."

"Yes, sir." The smile spreads across my face before I can stop it.

"You'll go out second period." His eyes narrow. "Don't disappoint me."

"I won't let you down."

Walking out of his office, I feel like I could crush the world. First the Reapers are happy with my progress, now this center position, and now I just need Lola to come crawling back for more.