Chapter Twenty-Seven
Matt
I hated Mondays. Then again, who didn’t?
It was arguably the worst day of the week, and that was all that was running through my mind when I trudged into the locker room like a zombie at seven-thirty on Monday morning.
The whole team, besides very few, were groaning and bitching too. We weren’t morning people.
Releasing a yawn, I started unpacking my hockey bag. The last thing I expected was for Coach to call me into his office this early in the damn morning. Which meant that whatever he had to say, couldn’t be good.
Coach’s office was the only spot in this locker room that never smelled like feet or BO. He usually had a candle lit or an air freshener plugged in to ensure of that.
A sweet aroma smacked me in the face as I walked in, and the dim lighting made me want to fall back asleep. Sitting across from his desk, I caught Coach’s unhappy expression, leaned back in his chair. I was alarmed but not intimidated.
Chewing on the end of a pen, Coach asked, “How was your weekend?”
I shrugged. “It was good.”
“Anything you wanna tell me about?”
Another shrug. “No?”
His brows raised sky-high, and he tossed the pen onto his desk as he spoke through a sigh. “You didn’t punch a football player in the face?”
Ah, so that was what this was about.
I was completely clueless when I walked in here, if I was being honest.
“I... might’ve done that,” I admitted, pushing myself back in the chair. My arms crossed lightly over my chest. “He was out of line, Coach.”
The disbelief he held was riveting. Just like everybody else, he thought I was a monster. I guess I couldn’t blame him.
“Actually out of line, or out of line in your terms?”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
Elbows planted on the table, he tipped forward slightly, speaking slowly as if he had to spell it out for me. “As in, would any of your other teammates have punched him? Or just you?”
In other words, you’re an anger-issued freak. So, was he actually asking for it or did you overreact again?
I sighed before blurting out, “He put his hands on my girlfriend, Coach.”
Based on the way the tension in his shoulders eased, I could only assume he’d done the same thing for his wife back in the day.
“Look, I get it. But I cannot have you running around this campus handing out black eyes and concussions.”
Yikes. I didn’t realize I’d done that much damage.
Coach continued, “When you committed to this team, you promised me no problems, and I feel like you’ve been causing problems since the second you got here.”
I opened my mouth to refute, but he held a hand up.
“Get it under control, Gallagher. Or I’ll have no choice but to bench you.”
Well, fuck.