Chapter 2
Jack
Alondra.
I can’t stop thinking about how the beautiful girl I couldn’t stop staring at on Friday night has the prettiest name, but she’s Coach B’s daughter.
I’m so fucked if he finds out I kissed her.
My best friend, Dylan, knocks my shoulder, jarring me from my thoughts. “Man, what is with you today? Get your head out of the clouds before Coach B notices,” he says, and I shake my head, adjusting my grip on the stick.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I mumble, but I couldn’t feel less like myself.
What the fuck happened in Coach B’s office again?
Alex is actually Alondra, but Alondra is Coach B’s daughter, which makes her so extremely off-limits that it’s not even funny.
I then lied to him in his office about his daughter tutoring me, but the truth is I am struggling in Comp II.
I should care more about how, if my barely-there C drops to a D, I’ll be academically ineligible.
Dylan and I set up next to Nate, running a simple two versus one puck protection drill as I focus on the ice beneath my skates and keeping the puck away from Nate while working seamlessly with Dylan.
I lose myself to the familiar feeling, a sense of calm washing over me to help settle the unease in my mind.
Hockey is the one thing that’s always made sense to me.
On the ice is the one place I was good enough for everyone but Momma. She’s only ever cared if I’m happy—well, and that I get my degree. It’s the only thing she’s asked of me, and I can’t tell her no. Not after everything she’s gone through and sacrificed for me.
I’ve never been the smartest kid in the room.
No matter how hard I try, or how long I spend studying, or even how many times I proofread an assignment before turning it in, it’s never good enough.
Unfortunately, my average grades reflect it.
After getting drafted by the Carolina Dolphins in the first round, I wanted to sign my contract right away, but Momma begged me to get my degree first since I’d already signed my National Letter of Intent to Wilder University after Coach Brown offered me a scholarship in my junior year of high school.
It was the only way Momma could afford to send me after putting pennies together to help me play in the first place, and she was right when she said I had a lot to learn from Coach Brown.
He played a few seasons in the NHL before multiple back-to-back concussions on the ice forced him into early retirement, but he’s had one hell of a run since taking over as the head coach for the Wilder Wolves.
Coach B has sent more players to play professional hockey after leaving college than anyone else, and I can already see the difference in my abilities after the past two seasons.
Momma’s always told me there’s different types of smart, and my dyslexia doesn’t define me unless I let it.
I’ve done tutoring and joined study groups, but this goddamn English class is going to be the death of me.
I already failed it once, and if I fail again this semester, I’ll be ineligible for not making progress toward my degree.
With our schedule slowly growing more intense the closer we get to season, I haven’t been able to attend as many of the groups as I’d like, and unfortunately the graduate teaching assistant, Maggie, is too busy trying to flirt with me to be of any actual help.
The last thing I need is someone accusing me of trading sexual favors for grades when I’m already struggling to keep my head above water.
My head is still spinning after practice, trying to decide if I should confess everything to Coach B, but I keep seeing the look on Alondra’s face before she blurted out that she was tutoring me.
I’m not sure it’s worth trying to decipher the meaning behind it when I’m the idiot who fell for a fake name from a girl with a pretty smile at the bar.
“Schultz, you good?” Coop asks, lifting a blond eyebrow in my direction as I finish pulling my shirt on.
“Yeah, why?” I ask, pulling my team-issued jacket out of my stall.
“You’re a little out of it today,” he says, and thankfully, Dylan’s too busy arguing with Nate over what football team they think is going to win the Super Bowl to listen.
“Just a lot on my mind. I have an essay for my Comp II class I need to work on, and I think I have like three words written so far,” I say, because it’s the truth, even if it’s not the whole truth.
I can’t exactly blurt out in the middle of the locker room I kissed Coach B’s daughter last night at the bar and it’s messing with me.
I look away to grab my keys and wallet, shoving them into my pockets to grab my phone next.
“Think Ellie would help me again?” I ask, and Coop shrugs.
“I’m her brother, not her babysitter. You’ll have to ask her.”
I snort, shaking my head at my roommate, who also happens to be the best damn goalie I’ve ever played with. “I was just asking if you thought she’d say yes or if she said anything along the lines of I’m never helping Jack again to you.”
I feel bad for asking the question because Ellie’s my friend, and she has a heart of gold, but everyone has their limit of how many times they can sit for hours helping me with something they can do without a second thought.
It sucks that Alondra wasn’t actually being serious earlier, but it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Well, I doubt she will, but if she says no, I’ll help you instead,” he says, which makes me feel a little better. “Just let me know what she says.”
“Thanks, Coop,” I say, just as Dylan yelps after not moving out of the way to miss the towel Nate snaps in his direction.
“What the fuck, Baxter! You know Coach banned that shit from the locker room,” Dylan says, pulling his briefs up, glaring at Nate.
“I was tired of staring at your ass. It doesn’t take that long to get dressed,” Nate says, tugging his hoodie over his head.
“It’s a great ass, you should be thanking me.” Dylan scoffs, flipping Nate off as I shake my head. I’ve seen Dylan’s ass more times than I can count over the last two years that it doesn’t even faze me anymore.
“Jones, put some damn clothes on,” Coach Brown interjects, causing all of our heads to snap his direction.
I swallow the lump of fear forming in my throat, averting my gaze because I feel so damn guilty about lying to him.
The sound of his office door shutting echoes off the walls, and the chatter is slow to pick up afterward.
“What the hell crawled up his ass this morning?” Nate asks, grabbing his things.
“No idea, but do you think he’d prefer his name tattooed on my right or left cheek? I want to get on his good side, and what better way than to have his name on me permanently?” Dylan jokes, and Coop shakes his head.
“For fuck’s sake I hope you’re kidding,” he says under his breath.
Knowing Dylan, there’s a very real chance he’s not, but getting a tattoo is a bit further than his normal ideas tend to go.
“Schultz, you were in Coach’s office before practice, right? He say anything to you?” Nate asks, and I shake my head.
“Nope,” I say, keeping my answer vague because I haven’t quite figured out what the hell I’m going to do with what I learned in his office.
“What if we take a little break?” Ellie suggests, and I could definitely use one, but I feel bad she’s wasting her Saturday afternoon helping me.
I called her on my way home from practice, and Ellie said she had some free time today, which works in my favor because I need all the help I can get sorting through the research database to find my sources.
Even with using the text-to-speech feature on my computer, I still have to scan through dozens of articles to find enough sources and then flip through them to see if they even work for my assignment.
It’s a nightmare from start to finish, and my only hope is I pass the class this time around. I don’t have a different option.
“I’m good,” I say, but the way my leg is bouncing from my restlessness tells a different story. “Let’s keep going.”
“Jack, it’s fine to take five minutes. Honestly, I need to pee so please don’t make me take your computer into the bathroom with me,” she says, standing up, leveling me with a look identical to one I normally get from her brother.
“Fine, I’ll take a break,” I agree, sighing as I push the computer away from me. Ellie’s right, it’ll probably help.
“Thank you because that’s disgusting, and I really didn’t want to do it,” she says, laughing as she walks away.
I glance around her apartment instead, taking in the subtle decorations, but it’s the sheer number of blankets on the couch and chair that confuses me. Why on earth does anyone need this many blankets? I’m not even sure we have one in our living room.
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I reach for the purple fuzzy one on the couch, and the second my fingertips brush over the soft material to pick it up, I think I understand.
This might be the softest blanket I’ve ever felt.
I wonder where Ellie got this because Christmas is coming up, and I need a present for Momma.
Hell, I might even buy one to keep on our couch at the house.
The lock on the front door flips, opening a moment later as I spin around, still holding the blanket when Alondra walks through the entry, rifling through her bag.
“Elli—” Her eyes lift, widening at the sight of me as she chokes.
Oh fuck. Of course Alondra is one of Ellie’s roommates.
Why would it be anyone else? First, she’s Coach’s daughter, and now she’s living with Coop’s sister?
“What the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, taking a step back.
“What?” I ask, a laugh of disbelief slipping from me. “You think I’m stalking you?”
“You’re literally standing in my living room, holding my blanket. What else should I think?”