Power Play

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

KELLAN

The hits just keep coming, and I’m not even on the ice anymore. I feel like I can’t catch a single break these days, but I know that’s not what the man sitting across from me wants to hear. Instead, I raise my chin up and make direct eye contact, waiting for whatever comes next.

We’re sitting in Coach Donovan’s office, set off to the side of the locker room that grows progressively quieter as the Radford Renegades hockey team showers, dresses, and heads off to lunch together.

I’m going to be late to my sociology class. Missing lunch isn’t a possibility with the calories that I need to consume daily, but the biggest bummer is that I won’t get the nap I’ve been looking forward to since I woke up at six a.m. for our morning conditioning practice.

I shift my attention back to Coach instead of dreaming about dreaming when I hear him clear his throat.

“Mid-term grades came in, Kellan. You’re a goddamn whisker away from ineligibility.

” Coach is looking at me like he’s both personally disappointed but also ready to wrap his meaty hands around my neck and squeeze.

He was an enforcer on the ice when he played pro twenty years ago, so I know he’s got it in him.

And I’m not going to lie, it sucks. To hear the tone in his voice. The way his mouth is tipped into a tight-lipped frown. He’s the closest thing to a father figure I’ve ever had, and even though I pretend like it doesn’t bother me, I wonder if he can see how I wince a little bit.

He folds his arms across his broad chest. I’m glad there’s a desk between us, that I’m still wearing my gear from the practice that ended twenty minutes ago. “What the hell is going on with you?”

Well, isn’t that a question that’s both stupidly simple and infinitely complicated.

I have a full-ride to play at Radford University in their D1 hockey program, so effectively, I’m being paid to be here.

It’s my job. Hockey is also my one true love, and the only thing that’s kept me out of trouble throughout my life.

But my feelings don’t change the fact that I’m here to put in work for this man and my teammates, and it’s clear that I’m not doing it.

“I’m sorry, Coach. I know I’ve been off lately.” I wonder if he can tell that I could fall asleep sitting in this chair if he gave me about thirty seconds.

He doesn’t want to know that my step-dad ran off half-way through last season.

That’s when the trouble started. It was fine until it wasn’t, which is the way it usually goes.

It’s not like I can move my mom and two half-brothers into the on-campus townhouse that I share with two teammates, so I had to find a way to keep them in the apartment that it takes two people to make the rent work with.

I made a commitment to this team, and I intend to keep it. But I also won’t let my mom struggle to keep a roof over her and my siblings’ heads. Which means that I’m finding a way to make it work. Even if managing it all is slowly killing me.

At least during summer, I didn’t have classes on top of working and keeping up with optional practices. We’ve been back in season for two months now. Regular season games started two weeks ago, it’s clear that things are catching up to me.

“Kid…” He looks at me somberly, refusing to let this go.

But that’s his job. To get the best out of us.

And even if he’s getting the best I can give, across everything I’m balancing, it’s not the best that I should be giving the team.

“Off is having a bad game. Maybe even a bad weekend of games. Whatever you’ve got going on is way bigger than that.

And if I don’t know what it is, I can’t help you. ”

I shrug my shoulders, pretending to be disaffected even as I feel an uncomfortable catch in my throat.

It’s stupid–makes me feel stupid–so I swallow it down.

“I didn’t know we cared so much about the student part of ‘student athlete.’ And like you said, I’m eligible. I got the grades that I needed.”

Mid-terms fell a few weeks after the season started, and I broke my back getting even less sleep than I was managing before to make sure I could stay eligible. But that’s the coach’s floor, even if it’s my ceiling right now.

“Cut the insubordinate shit, Kellan. You don’t want to tell me, that’s your prerogative.

But you’re a senior on a D1 hockey program for one of the best teams in the country.

That means something, so don’t you dare fucking act like it doesn’t.

” He squares me with a look that makes me hurt more than any beatdown on the ice could, but I don’t respond.

“And I only allow men on my team who show up. Who I can trust. Can I trust you, Kellan?”

The silence hangs between us, and Coach Donovan leans back in his chair.

He has the luxury of kicking me off his team.

I, however, don’t have the luxury of losing my college scholarship, which is my single best chance to get signed to an NHL team after I graduate.

I didn’t get drafted during eligibility, which wasn’t a surprise.

But I need this year. To show the pro teams what I’m capable of achieving.

To show up for my team, who I know I’m letting down.

Honestly, it’s a miracle that Coach hasn’t benched me already.

There are multiple guys who would love to take my place and have twice the energy to give, if only they had the chance.

I know it, even if he doesn’t say it. I’ve used up my chances.

And most of all, I need to prove it to myself.

I’m so close that I can taste it. The thousands of hours of practice.

The ability to know the ice temperature by the way my skate slices across it.

The way I know my mom would sag into my arms and let so many of her burdens go, if I can just make good and get a pro contract.

I need to get my fucking head on straight.

One more season, and it needs to be the best one yet.

I’m bigger than ever. I’m the fittest I’ve ever been.

I pour over game notes every free second of my day.

My biggest problem right now is that I’m a hair slower than I should be, mostly because I’m always exhausted.

It’s like my body can’t get into the optimal state to get that extra click of speed and power.

But I can figure it out. I need to figure it out.

Because I know that if my goal is getting to the pros, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. And good enough won’t even get me a second look this season.

I nod, mostly to myself. There is nothing stopping me from achieving my goals except me, and I need to remember that, damnit. I make eye contact with Coach again. “Tell me what you need from me. I won’t let you down.”