Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Axel
Coach walks into the locker room, and I’m ready to explain exactly why putting Enzo on this team is a disaster.
“I’ve made some line changes.” Coach looks around. “Where’s Bellanti?”
The space under Enzo’s stall—his name already laser-etched on a brass plate, is empty.
“He’s not here,” I say. “Guess he’s not taking it seriously.”
Coach’s jaw tightens. “I’ll share the changes with him later. Knight, you play center now.”
“Evan plays center.”
Evan McAllister is the captain of our team. He’s been here for ages and is Blizzards’ royalty.
“Evan will still play center,” Coach says. “But now on the second line.” He glances at Luke. “You will play on the left wing now and Jason will continue to play right wing.”
Jason grins happily. The man recently fell in love and would smile at anything now.
“And Bellanti?” I ask.
“Bellanti will play left wing, and Finn will play right wing.”
“No.”
The others stare at me.
“No, no, no.” The words come out louder than I like, enhanced by the room’s perfect acoustics.
A few people exchange looks.
Strictly speaking, this doesn’t count as professionalism. In fact, if someone were filming an HR video on how to act unprofessional, they would get excited about all the content I’m giving them.
So be it.
Some things are more important than appearances. No one seems to understand how terrible Enzo is. Luckily, I do. I can warn them. “Enzo Bellanti can’t be trusted.”
“Oh, God,” Noah says.
“He’s a vile human being.”
“Vile hockey players can be useful,” Vinnie says.
“Axel,” Coach says. “This is beneath you. There has never been any drama about Bellanti.”
“He had dark circles under his eyes! He might be drinking or on drugs!”
Coach sighs. “This I doubt. When have you read about Bellanti in the tabloids?”
I frown. Bellanti has kept his private life private. Which is irritating when you’re trying to research what precisely that private life entails. For opposition research, naturally.
“Well, he can’t handle being on the first line,” I grumble. “He can’t even handle being on time for a team meeting!”
“Give your new teammate some grace,” Coach says. “His life… what do you know about it?”
“Because he doesn’t say anything!” I shout.
The others stare at me.
Okay, that was too loud.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Enzo Bellanti was LA’s top player. We are lucky he wants to be here. The owner is…” Coach frowns. “We need some wins.”
“We won’t have chemistry. It will throw the whole team off. We’re close to playoffs. We won’t even make it.”
Coach’s shoulders slump. “Obviously we would have preferred if Dmitri could have stayed in the U.S., but that was not possible. Sometimes things happen in life that we do not like. But we are lucky to have Bellanti. Besides, I’ve watched you two play at the Olympics together. You were excellent.”
I want to tell him that had been in the before-times, when Enzo hadn’t been cursed by some evil wizard or decided I’d been cursed one. In those days, he’d been my best friend.
“You also played together for years at Concord,” Coach adds. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it again.”
“By tonight? With no practice?”
Coach sighs. “You are Olympic athletes. You’ll handle it. You have to. I want a win.”
I change tactics. “But what about Evan? How can you put him on the second line?”
“This is not your business, Axel,” Coach says.
“It’s fine,” Evan says. “I’m getting older, Axel. I had that concussion earlier this season. I don’t mind pulling back. I’d already talked to Coach about it.”
“I encourage you to be more welcoming to your new team member,” Coach says.
Right.
Everyone is upset with me.
I tried to warn everyone, and I got in trouble.
“Just call me Cassandra,” I say, then saunter from the room.
“Who’s Cassandra?” Luke asks.
I go to the exercise room and put on boxing gloves and start tackling the punching bag.
Vinnie frowns. Normally the punching bag is relegated to defensemen.
I punch it once, twice, three times.
“Feel better?” Vinnie asks.
“No.”
“Is there a real problem the team should know about?”
I open my mouth, then close it. I punch the punching bag again.
Enzo shows up for the game at the last minute, looking exhausted. He clutches a Styrofoam coffee cup from the break room.
He’s so unprofessional. He didn’t act like this in college, but then he didn’t randomly start hating perfectly fine people in college either.
I sit far from him in the locker room and pretend I don’t notice the redness in his eyes, the sallowness of his skin, and the way his hair sticks up in all directions. My chest gets a strange ache, and I remind myself to drink more water.
I’m the first person out. A reporter stands near the tunnel entrance, where they’ve mounted a Blizzards logo the size of a car on the wall.
She looks new-reporter eager in a sleek skirt suit and Texas hair. The previous reporter, Cal Prescott, is now in a relationship with Jason.
“Mind if I ask you a few questions about tonight’s game?” she asks eagerly.
I swallow back my sigh. “Sure.”
I’m not as popular as Finn or Evan, and lately Luke has been getting more attention, but I’ve played with the Blizzards for years. I’m one of the most familiar players to viewers and am often interviewed.
“Are you excited for tonight’s game?” she asks.
“I always love playing hockey.”
“You have a new player on your team. How do you feel about Bellanti playing with you?” She continues to beam, as if I should be happy that Enzo is here to ruin everything.
“I hope it goes okay.”
“You think it might not go okay?” Her eyes narrow, and I try not to step back. Did I reveal too much? Maybe I did. Maybe I don’t care. God, I wish he hadn’t joined the team.
“He’s a talented player. But he never should have been traded to the Blizzards. That was a huge mistake, and we might see it tonight.”
“Really?”
“Players should get input on who comes to join a team. There needs to be major structural changes.”
“You’re saying that hockey culture needs to change.”
“Well, technically, you’re saying that.” I flash my biggest smile, the kind that always makes girls giggle. She doesn’t, probably because she’s being professional or something.
“Look, I probably said too much,” I say. “Enzo is a top player, but team dynamics is also important. That’s all I’m saying.”
Her expression sharpens. “The Blizzards have had a lot of players come out as gay and bisexual.”
“I guess.”
“Do you think Bellanti might not fit well with those players? Is that part of the team dynamic you’re concerned about?”
What? She thinks Enzo is homophobic? I stifle a grin. She’s got it way wrong.
“I didn’t say that.” I press my lips together.
“That’s why I’m asking.”
There are things about Enzo I could share with her. You don’t live with a man for years without knowing if he tenses up during Aragorn scenes or Arwen scenes. And even though Enzo never said anything to me… I knew.
But that’s his business, not hers. Not mine either, since Enzo never had the conversation with me about it. That should have been the sign that we weren’t as good friends as I thought.
“He’s coming from LA,” I say finally. “I’m sure that will be no problem.”
“You’ll be playing on the same line tonight.”
“Wish us luck,” I grumble. “We’ll need it. We haven’t had any chance to practice together.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“It’s a terrible situation.”
I think she hides a smile. I’ve been perhaps… not discreet.
Shit. That’s going to be all over social media by the second period.
Whatever.
Transparency is a thing. I’m telling it like it is.
Coach scowls. He was listening? Shit.
“We’ll do our best to win,” I say. “It’s just… It will be difficult. Luckily we’re an excellent team. Too bad our chemistry got annihilated.”
Coach’s nostrils flare, and he crosses his arms. Uh-oh. That doesn’t look good.
“I should go,” I say, then I head hastily down the tunnel.
How upset can Coach be?