Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
T he sound of skates clattering on concrete and the low murmur of conversation filled the Seahorns’ locker room as Travis Jenkins sat on the bench, carefully taping his stick. His movements were precise and methodical, the familiar ritual grounding him before practice.
Across from him, Jake slumped back against the wall, his helmet perched on his knee as he grinned like a kid who’d just won the lottery. He kept checking his phone, the excitement practically radiating off him.
“What’s with the face, Jake?” Travis asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jake looked up, his grin widening. “Got a date this weekend.”
“Nice,” Travis said, nodding approvingly. “What’s her name?”
“Maddie,” Jake said, leaning forward like he was sharing the juiciest secret. “She’s… amazing. We’ve been talking for a couple weeks, and I think she might actually be girlfriend material.”
Logan, who had been taping his stick on the other side of the room, let out a loud laugh. “Girlfriend material? Dude, you’ve known her for, what, five minutes?”
Jake rolled his eyes. “It’s been weeks, and she’s different, okay? She’s smart, funny, actually interested in me—not just the whole hockey thing.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, shaking his head as he pulled his skate laces tighter. “Let me know how that works out when she realizes the ‘hockey thing’ comes with travel, crazy hours, and—oh, right—groupies: lots of other ladies!” He grinned, dancing with his hands in the air.
Travis frowned, glancing at Logan. “Not everyone’s looking for groupies, man.”
“Speak for yourself,” Logan shot back, his tone light but with an edge that Travis didn’t like.
Jake ignored him, turning back to Travis. “We’re going to that new Italian place downtown. I heard they make their pasta fresh every day.”
“Classy,” Travis gave him a nod of approval. “Good luck, man. Sounds like she’s worth it.”
“Thanks,” Jake’s grin returned.
Logan snorted, tossing his stick aside and standing up. “You guys are way too tame. Pasta dates and steady girlfriends? Come on. It’s the weekend. We’re young, rich, and in the prime of our lives. Why waste it?”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “What’s your plan, then?”
Logan’s grin turned wolfish. “There’s a party at Brogue’s. Big one. VIP only. Girls, booze, and whatever else you want. I’m getting as many of the guys to come as I can. You in?”
Travis’s stomach tightened. Brogue’s wasn’t just any club. It had a reputation—a bad one. Drugs, fights, and scandalous headlines often followed its guests, and it wasn’t the kind of place anyone on their team should be seen, especially not now.
“Hard pass,” Jake said quickly. “I’ve got better things to do than watch you get wasted and make a fool of yourself.”
Logan smirked. “Suit yourself, lover boy. What about you, Trav?”
Travis shook his head, keeping his tone light. “Not my scene.”
“Since when?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow. “You used to be fun.”
“I still am,” Travis said, leaning his stick against the bench and standing. “But I’ve got practice tomorrow and a game to prep for. I’m not about to screw that up for one night at a shady club.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Shady? Come on, man. It’s just a party.”
“Is it?” Travis said, crossing his arms. “Because last time you went to ‘just a party,’ we had to deal with that mess in the press. You think Coach has forgotten about that?”
Logan’s grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of defensiveness. “That was nothing. Blown out of proportion.”
“Was it?” Travis said, his voice harder now. “Because I remember a team meeting about how we’re supposed to be role models. You think anyone’s looking up to us if we’re plastered all over the tabloids for the wrong reasons?”
Logan shrugged, but there was a tension in his shoulders that Travis didn’t miss. “You’re making it sound worse than it is. It’s one night. No one cares.”
“I care,” Travis said, his tone firm. “And you should, too. This isn’t just about you, Logan. It’s about the team, the fans, the kids who look up to us. Do you want them thinking this is what being a pro athlete is about?”
Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Travis thought he might actually listen. But then Logan scoffed, grabbing his helmet and shoving it onto his head.
“You sound like my dad,” Logan muttered. “Maybe you should loosen up, Jenkins. Not everyone wants to live like a saint.”
“Being responsible isn’t the same as being boring,” Travis said, stepping closer. “You’ve got talent, Logan. Don’t throw it away on stupid decisions.”
Logan didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the floor. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Jake shifted uncomfortably, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.
“Look,” Travis said, his voice softer now. “I’m not trying to come down on you. I just… I don’t want to see you mess this up. You’ve got too much going for you.”
Logan’s shoulders sagged slightly, but he still didn’t meet Travis’s eyes. “Whatever, man,” he muttered, brushing past him and heading toward the rink.
Travis let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair.
Jake stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You think he’ll listen?”
“I don’t know,” Travis rubbed his forehead. “But I had to try.”
Jake nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You’re a good captain, you know that?”
Travis huffed a laugh. “Thanks. But sometimes it feels like herding cats.”
Jake grinned. “Well, if you ever need backup, you know where to find me. As long as it’s not at Brogue’s.”
Travis chuckled, clapping Jake on the shoulder. “Deal.”
As they headed out onto the ice, Travis couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him. Logan was talented, no question, but he was also reckless. And in their world, it didn’t take much to ruin a career—or a life.
He just hoped Logan would realize that before it was too late.