Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Yep. But after this, I will never, ever watch one of my kids play. Ever.” But even saying that, his eyes don’t leave the ice. “It’s all Asher and Simms.”
“They’re not the only two on the team.”
Beck jumps to his feet as Kaplan tears past us and takes a shot on goal. Even my gut jolts as the puck flies through the air—and meets the goalie’s glove. Shit.
“That’s what I mean,” Beck growls. “They won’t pass to each other. They keep giving it to Kaplan, and UVM knows it. Our defense is good, but playing in UVM’s attack zone all night means they’re flagging.”
As if to prove his point, Stalberg trips a UVM player, earning two minutes in the sin bin and giving a power play to UVM, who finds the net almost immediately.
I groan into my hands.
I really, really wish I didn’t care.
“So you agree with my dad and Coach Dalton?” I finally ask Beck.
“That those two need to get along? Obviously. They’re being a pair of … ah, unprofessional players, out there.”
“I’m not on the team. You can say dickheads if you want to.”
Beck points at me. “I’m trying to be responsible and shit, but yes, that. That’s exactly what they’re being.”
“Asher will never make the first move, and I can’t see Simms putting aside their shit either.”
“Well, unless we want to come dead last this season, we need to do something.”
He’s right. As the clock winds down, it’s like the entire team gives up. Somehow Simms manages to sink one in the net, but we still lose 7-1, and the walk back to the locker room is filled with so much tension I wouldn’t be surprised if the team was plotting to drown Asher and Simms in the showers.
Asher’s doing that usual thing where he ignores everyone, even as Dad lists, in great detail, everything he did wrong out there.
He just takes it.
In front of the whole team.
Dad’s not even yelling at me, and I want to cry. Asher looks so unaffected when I’m sure he wants to rage, and it makes me question what he’s going to do after this to let it all out.
Go home and be pissed off? Go out and get laid? Start a fight?
This can’t keep going on. I know, without a doubt, that Asher won’t agree to play nice with Simms. But maybe we need to force his hand.
I grab Beck and drag him out of the locker room with me.
“I have an idea.”
“About those two?”
“Yes. I don’t like the idea, but I think it’ll work.”
Beck eyes me. “What is it?”
“At this point, I think the only way we’re going to get through to them is to lock them in a room and let them have it out.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“And what if they kill each other? Because I’ve got to say, it seems likely.”
“Then you’ll have two less players to worry about.” I sound way more nonchalant than I feel, because Beck’s right. They actually might.
All I know is that when Asher finally lets his guard down, it’s impossible not to like him. I’ve only seen small glimpses, but I hope Simms will see it too.
I sneak into Dad’s office and grab his keys while Beck goes and tells them Coach wants to see them.
Thankfully, Dad has gone out the front of the arena to meet Mom, so his office is free for the moment, but we need to hurry up because he definitely will not want to be part of this plan.
Asher’s first to arrive. His scowl lessens slightly when he sees me, but he doesn’t say anything as he throws himself into one of the chairs to wait.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yep. Love being an absolute embarrassment. It’s a good time.”
I shift for a moment and contemplate whether I’m doing the right thing. “Do you think maybe you and Simms need to go out and get drunk together?”
Asher snorts. “If I get drunk with him, we will really get into a fight. Why do you care, anyway?”
“We’re friends.”
“You shouldn’t be friends with someone like me.”
“You asked.”
“Yeah, but I’m the idiot. You’re the one who’s supposed to make the right choices.”
Fine, if that’s how he wants to play it.
Simms shows up before I can reply and sighs at the sight of Asher sitting there.
I stand and walk to the door. “You want me to make choices for you, Asher? You two can come out when you’re friends.”
I catch their confused expressions for a second before I slam the door and quickly lock it with Dad’s keys.
Beck watches me with what I think is concern etched across his face. “Come on, kids, join the hockey camp with the coach who locks kids in a room together.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I did this. You were just … there.”
“Does that make me an accessory to kidnapping? Oh, shit, is this kidnapping?”