6. Reese
There’s something about untouched ice that settles my nerves. This is the first practice of the preseason, and it only pumps me up for the season to come. Playing hockey has always been the one thing I’ve never fucked up. Everything I’m carrying falls away like forgotten memories, only to be remembered again after the four-hour practice.
It’s my entire life.
Despite my head spinning and my body feeling like I’ve been hit by a fucking bus, I’ve never been more ready for practice. Everything from yesterday, last night, and this afternoon completely fades, and the only thing left right now is me, my team, and the ice.
The gliding of my skates is the only thing that allows my head to clear, and I soak it in because I know it will be an entirely different story after practice. I spent the better part of the day coming up with ideas to do for Winnie. I could have asked for help from Emma and Laney, but they don’t know her like I do. No one does, and after I was able to wash down the rest of the alcohol from my system, it didn’t take long to come up with something.
She should be getting my delivery in the next few hours. I’m sure she’s still pissed, and the odds of her caving after a bouquet of yellow flowers and falling back in love with me aren’t great. I’m expecting—or hoping for—a pissed-off text, because I can work with anger. What I can’t work with is nothing.
“Larson! My office, now.”
Fuck me. What now?
With my head hanging low, I skate to the edge and head for Coach Swanson’s office. I’ve pissed him off a few times since he first scouted me and offered me a spot on his team. He said he saw a lot of potential in me, and now I consider him to be sort of a father figure, like a lot of the guys. So hopefully whatever I did to piss him off this time isn’t too bad.
Stepping into the room and seeing the athletic director, Mr. Kinnon, with Coach Swanson and Coach Miller has my stomach dropping to my ass. What the hell did I do?
Miller gestures to the chair in front of the desk, and I wander over. My pads are like a fucking hot box right now.
Immediately, my attention snags on Coach’s desk, and all the color drains from my face.
There’s one thing about this school that I will always hate. The fucking EU Student News is the worst decision anyone has ever had, and right now, I wish I knew who was in fucking charge of it so I could put a stop to it. But it’s a secret who runs it, and it’s fucking annoying, but usually, it’s other people I’m seeing humiliated on the cover. Never me.
“Go ahead, pick it up,” Coach orders.
I swallow the lump and rip my glove off to grab the newspaper with Winnie’s ass on the front.
My entire body cringes seeing me and her pants wrapped around her ankles. It’s likely nobody would even know who it was if my name wasn’t in big, bold letters right underneath the stupid photo.
It’s not appropriate, but Winnie’s ass looks fucking perfect. I’m pissed I wasn’t sober enough to see it in person. More pissed that others did. And fucking livid it’s on the front page for anyone and everyone on campus to see.
At least it doesn’t say her name.
Photo of Emerson’s Elite Center for the Timberwolves, Reese Larson, caught on his knees. But who’s the lucky (or unlucky) girl who was able to bring him there? Good question. Sadly, that’s for me to know and you to find out—or not.
As for Reese, women usually love men on their knees… but not like that. Better luck next time!
The paper disappears from my hands, and Coach slams it on the desk between us. I don’t react, and I don’t need to look up to see the disappointment; I can feel it.
“You want to tell me what the hell is happening in this photo, Larson? I’ll give you one chance to tell me this isn’t some weird sex thing.”
I wish it was a weird sex thing. “No, sir. It’s, uh, just a normal party. I had too much to drink and…” And what, Reese? Made an ass out of yourself in front of the most important person to you? I glance at the clock on the wall, knowing she’s probably received the delivery.
“Who’s this girl?” Miller steps forward, eyeing the photo for longer than I would like.
“Someone from my past.”
He dips his chin. “Is she going to be a problem, son?”
A problem? No, Winnie Lewis has never been a problem a day in her life.
“More so, are you going to be a problem with this girl around?” Mr. Kinnon asks, with a sharp eyebrow angled at me.
“No, sir. Bad night, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t.” Coach huffs. “Fix it, Reese. Whatever you’ve got to do, but I don’t want to see you or any of my other players on this fucking paper again, you got me? Athletes are held to a higher standard than others here. Treated better than anyone else on campus. You boys need to remember that and not take advantage of it. The basketball team might fuck around and make this school a laughingstock anytime they walk out of their dorms, but not my boys.”
“Of course, sir. It won’t happen again. I swore off alcohol this morning after I threw up in the shower.”
His face contorts with disgust. “TMI, son. Now go warm up.”
“Yes, sir.” I stand and dip my head to Mr. Kinnon and Miller. Before I turn, I pause. “Oh, sir, you should be aware your daughter is telling people she’s dating someone on the team. So, if you hear that, just know it’s a rumor.”
Maybe that will keep her in her lane from now on. It’s never worked before, but one can hope.
Coach stops me just before I disappear out the door. “Spread the word that the next player to end up on this paper in a bad light will be responsible for washing the team’s pads by hand the entire season.”
Fucking gross. I definitely don’t want to be the guy stuck doing that. “Got it, sir.”
“Fix whatever you fucked up, Larson,” he yells after me. “I don’t want your head up your ass—or anyone else’s—all season!”
Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it.