Chapter 4
Gavin and Eva were gone when I came back downstairs, but Reece was standing in front of the fridge with the door open. His dark blond hair was tousled like he’d been running his hands through it, or someone else had, and he was glaring at the condiments.
“Problem?” I asked.
Reece didn’t bother looking my way. “Why are we always out of peanut butter?”
I shrugged, fully aware he couldn’t see me, and put on my sneakers. “I blame Mase when I can’t find something. His late-night snacks are getting out of hand.”
He sighed and closed the fridge. “Do we need to worry?”
“About Mase?” I straightened and tore my mind away from the seconds ticking down.
He’d been no moodier than normal, but now that Reece brought it up, I didn’t think Mase was sleeping in his room. We always left the couch and entertainment system free for when he needed something to take his mind off whatever haunted him at night, and the last couple of mornings our random throw had been folded on the edge of it instead of thrown over the back.
I glanced at the front door and knew we didn’t have enough time to fully discuss the situation if I wanted to make my meeting. Gavin and Eva should probably also be included, which meant we needed to talk tonight.
“Maybe?” I offered. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a house meeting tonight.”
Reece shook his head. “I’m out. I promised Sellers I’d check out a new club in Dallas with him.”
“Gavin and Eva are gone for like two weeks starting tomorrow, so do we ignore the warning signs until things escalate?”
His mouth thinned, and I felt the same irritation with waiting. “I guess. We’ll keep an eye out. If it starts looking like another Odessa, we call in the troops.”
Last year, Mase had passed out after our game in Odessa. He’d been a machine in the net, but weeks of no sleep caught up to him. We’d covered for him with Coach and the team, getting him home and taking turns sitting with him while he slept. Gavin blamed himself for not paying better attention, but the truth was Mase knew how to hide his shit.
None of us knew his history, but Mase was our brother. We’d do what needed to be done to protect him—even from himself. I nodded at Reece and finally climbed into my car parked at the curb. I’d lost the weekly dice roll for who had to deal with street parking, but I planned to take Gavin or Eva’s spot as soon as they left tomorrow.
I made it to Coach’s office with two minutes to spare. He wasn’t a big stickler for tardiness, but I hated being late. Coach was a broad man with muscle to spare, and any time he shifted in his chair, it gave a warning squeak. Some of the guys had a bet going to see how long it would last, but I was playing with the idea of taking up a collection to get him a new one before the old one tossed him on his ass.
Coach didn’t even wait until I’d sat down to jump right to the point. “I have someone in mind to help you with your English class.”
My whole body tensed up. “I can handle the workload.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “You and I both know that’s a lie. You’ve been playing for me for three years, and I know how smart you are on and off the ice. There’s no shame in asking for help.” Coach nodded at the facility outside his door. “I need you eligible to play. Doing nothing hasn’t worked. Let’s try something new.”
Bitterness coated my tongue, but he wasn’t wrong. I’d tried to do things my way the first two times, and all it had gotten me was two Ws on my transcript. Luckily, withdrawals didn’t count against my GPA, but I needed the class to graduate.
Grandpa’s face flashed into my mind from when I told him I was going to TU for school. Laugh lines crinkled at the edges of his eyes, brimming with pride in the bright morning light. He’d clapped a hand on my shoulder, thick with calluses from working the farm every day, and told me it didn’t matter where I got my degree as long as I didn’t give up.
Was I willing to bomb the class because I was too stubborn to try every option?
Fuck, I might be. Unacceptable. Grandpa would keel over on his tractor if I tried to explain it to him. Not to mention the rest of my family.
I unclenched my jaw and nodded at Coach. “Okay, but I don’t want to work with the tutoring staff.”
“That’s fine. I assumed you’d want more of a private situation after the last time.”
Shit. I’d forgotten Coach knew about Lyssa. She’d spent two sessions with me painstakingly sounding out words in a children’s book, then posted a picture on the TU social media app of our heads close together. With the dim lighting and creative angle, the scene looked intimate. She’d included a helpful little caption to make it clear she’d snagged herself a hockey hottie. Her words.
For a dumb jock who could barely read, I made out that much. Lyssa was surprised when her announcement of a relationship didn’t magically produce the boyfriend she wanted. I was surprised she thought her messed-up plan would work. Not a great endorsement for the intelligence of the tutoring staff.
I wanted to know who’d taken the picture, but the truth wasn’t worth engaging with Lyssa again. After I blocked her on the app, I’d stopped coming and never looked back. Two years had passed, and the memory still pissed me off.
Coach kept talking as if I weren’t reliving a personal hell. “I want you to work with my daughter. She just transferred to TU, but she’s done some tutoring before. Prickly as hell, but brilliant. Don’t let her scare you off.”
I hadn’t known Coach had a daughter. His family never came to our games, not even the one specifically for friends and family. My mind conjured an image of a sulky freshman with braids and Coach’s green eyes giving me the same disappointed look he liked to save for Reece.
“Why would she help me?”
“Because I’m asking her to. I’m hoping you can help her come out of her shell a little.” Coach stared over my shoulder at the door, and I suspected there was more to his deal than he was telling me.
My brows flew up. “You want me to befriend your daughter in exchange for help?”
Coach shook his head, looking none too pleased himself. “I don’t want you to lie to her or anything. She’s…” He huffed out a breath. “I don’t know her anymore, and she won’t talk to me. We’re not close. I’m not sure she lets anyone close, but I don’t want her regretting her decision to come here. She’s had a hard time, and she deserves more than I gave her.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, but even with his explanation, the idea didn’t sit right with me. Coach had never strung so many sentences together in my hearing, and he’d certainly never revealed anything about regrets and his daughter. As if he sensed my confusion, he cleared his throat and his expression returned to the gruffness I was used to.
“You could make friends with a pet rock, Cole, and I trust you to take care of her. I don’t want her getting involved with the rest of the team though, which includes your troublemaking roommate.”
I mentally shrugged, pushing aside the slimy feeling of faking my way into a friendship. How hard could it be to spend some time with his prickly, introverted daughter? Maybe I could get her to help me without talking about my struggles. At least I trusted she wouldn’t use me to boost her own rep. Surely if she were looking for fame, she’d have used her dad’s name before now. He’d played in the NHL and still held several records in Boston.
Still, I wouldn’t lead her on. If we got along, I’d be happy to hang and keep an eye on her. Reece had a certain reputation, but even he’d never go for Coach’s daughter.
“Can I meet her before I agree?”
Coach let out a sharp laugh. “You don’t have many other options if you won’t use the athletic tutors. I thought you’d want to get started now while you have downtime, so she’ll be here any minute.”
I sat up straighter in my chair and frowned. “Thanks for the warning.”
His gaze slipped past me again, and I caught the same sound he must have heard—the click of heels on the hardwood floor. A shiver went up my spine, and some sixth sense tightened into a ball in my chest. I twisted toward the door in time to catch the scowl on my favorite pair of red lips before she realized she wasn’t alone with Coach and smoothed her expression.
Every drop of spit in my mouth dried up. Coach didn’t need to worry about the team coming after her—she could take care of herself—but I was fucked. My dream girl was Coach’s daughter, and I’d kissed her in the library with half the student body as witnesses. I hoped like hell no one mentioned it to the team.
Avery stepped into the room, not bothering to close the door. Her gaze flitted over me before landing on Coach. “What did you need, Dad?”
“Remember the conversation we had about the summer writing program?” he asked her.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“I could use a favor. Cole needs help with his English class.”
“You want me to tutor one of your players.”
I tried not to take offense at the way she brushed aside the fact that we knew each other. She’d come walking in here already prepped for a showdown. What had she texted? Family matters.
“Please,” Coach said in a neutral tone. He didn’t add anything else.
The air in the room thickened with unsaid words, and I thought for a second Avery would tell him to go fuck himself. The urge was clearly written on her face, but she only took a slow breath instead of letting loose. I didn’t think Coach noticed the white knuckles on the hand wrapped around the strap of her messenger bag, but I did.
“No.” Without another word or a look in my direction, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room with her head high and her “fuck you” attitude firmly in place. As I watched her leave, Reece came into the locker room from the other direction.
She didn’t slow as she strode past him, but Reese’s brows shot up.
“Damn girl, the hockey player you’re looking for is right here.”
She flipped him off without breaking stride, and Reece let out a whistle.
“I love a lady with attitude. Come back and see number nineteen when you want some fun.”
I stole a glance at Coach, and sure enough, he looked pissed. His nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched so tight I wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked a tooth.
“Tanner,” he barked out. “Get in here.”
I gripped the arms of the chair, intending to jump up and chase after Avery, but Coach leveled a glare at me. “Sit.”
Reece sauntered to the door and nodded in greeting. “What’s up, Coach?”
He leaned back in his chair with a loud warning squeal and set his hands on his belly. “Lay one finger on my daughter and I will personally make sure you never play a day of professional hockey. Do you understand me?”
Reece nodded with a smile, completely at ease as usual. “No sweat. Want me to spread the word?”
“Yes,” he bit out. “Spread the word.”
I swallowed hard and shot out of the chair. “I’m going to talk to her. See if I can’t convince her to change her mind.”
Reece moved to the side as I ran past him, and the heat of Coach’s gaze followed me out of his office. His daughter. Avery was his daughter. I should probably back away as fast as possible, but I wasn’t willing to miss this opportunity. Especially when the little scene I’d just witnessed warned me I was already in deep shit.
Avery either hated me, hated tutoring, or hated her dad. None of those options left me feeling optimistic about my future. I rounded the corner of the locker rooms and sprinted down the long hallway leading to the rink, finally catching sight of her again outside the player entrance.
Damn, the girl was fast in those boots. She was also going the wrong way if she was trying to get to the parking lot. I put on a burst of speed and headed her off before she could push through the doors to the rink.
I knew better than to touch her, but I wasn’t sure of the reception I’d get when I blocked her escape. Earlier today in the texts, we’d been on the same team. Now, I was lumped with Coach in whatever was going on in her head.
Despite the inherent danger in spending time with Avery, I wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. Coach would crush me like a bug if I was disrespectful, but he’d also asked me to befriend her. He didn’t have to know I’d already started, as long as his interference didn’t ruin the progress we’d made. My gut told me I had one chance to convince her I wasn’t part of the ambush.
At the beginning, I’d been against the idea of tutoring, but Coach was right. I needed help—no, I needed her.