“Fuck you,” I said back. “You’re a whiny bitch.”

It went downhill from there, reporters recording the entire exchange. Our losing game became even more cringeworthy when clips were shown on late-night sports shows, complete with bleep after bleep for the language.

Coach laid into the two of us for twenty minutes the next day, threatening to bench us both if we couldn’t figure our shit out.

He’s not benching us, though. Not unless he wants to get fired. With our losing record, he has to put his best guys on the ice.

Am I one of the best anymore, though? I’m starting to wonder. My leg is working fine, but I just don’t seem to have my edge anymore. I’m the top-paid player on the team, and the captain. Since we aren’t winning, I need to start setting an example by putting in extra ice time, running drills and lifting weights.

That means less time with Gia, though, and I already don’t get enough. She’s been playing in private poker games, some as far as an hour away from my house. She usually leaves around seven at night and doesn’t get home until around four in the morning.

She and Ro have been staying with me for almost two weeks now. I’ve gotten used to walking into the house from practice and seeing Gia in my kitchen, dark hair wet and sexy from a shower. Ro is usually at class, and I get a couple hours alone with Gia to talk or watch a movie.

I’ve got it bad for her. But I can admit, to myself only, that it’s probably a good thing she’s unwilling to get involved with me right now. If she was mine, I’d want her all the time. I’d have even less time and energy to focus on my game.

“What’s up?” Pax says as I walk onto the bus.

“Hey,” I say, sitting down across the aisle from him.

He slides into the seat next to mine. “I’ve got an idea I want to run by you.”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking…maybe we could all get together, and everyone brings a folded up piece of paper, and on that paper, they’ve typed out why they think we aren’t working as a team.”

I consider his idea, and then shrug. “There’ll be a different answer for every guy on the team.”

“Yeah, maybe. But what if there’s not? What if it helps us see something we’re missing?”

There’s nothing to lose, so I say, “I’m good with it.”

Pax nods. “I’m going to have one of the interns help with it. Get us access to a computer and printer at the arena. You can read the answers before the game. What do you think?”

“I’ll try anything at this point.”

“Too many puck hogs,” I read from a sheet of paper a few hours later.

The team is gathered around me in the locker room. I asked all the coaches and staff to leave us in here alone. We’re all dressed and ready for the game, because I decided this should be the last thing we do before we take the ice tonight.

I pick up the next paper, unfold it and read it aloud. “We need bigger balls. We can’t make the shots we don’t take. Everyone is playing sloppy, like they’ve got nothing to lose since we’re dropping further in the standings. What about our pride?”

I arch my brows and nod, setting the paper down on the pile. “I like that one. And no, I didn’t write it.”

The next one makes me shake my head, but I read it anyway. “More skydiving. How insightful.”

Shifting on my feet, I pick up another piece of paper and unfold it. “We need to be playing for each other instead of just for ourselves.”

I look at the words on the paper, read them out loud again, and then ask, “What do you guys think of this one?”

“Truth,” someone says.

“But how?” Pax asks. “Let’s talk about how we play for each other. On D, I think of playing for you guys as making sure I’m getting hit instead of you. And I’ll commit right here and now to doing that.”

“I’ll block like it’s the last game of the championship,” Pike says.

“I’ll pass more,” Grady offers. “And shoot when I’ve got the shot.”

“This is good,” I say, feeling the energy in the room build. “I guess we need to do this more. To talk. I want to win, how about you guys?”

There’s a rumble of agreement from my teammates.

“Come on pussies, like you mean it,” I yell. “You want to win?”

There are yells thrown back at me this time. I let them pump their fists and chant for a while before cutting them off.

“Listen!” I say, raising my arms in the air to get their attention. “You fuckers win the next five games…” I pause for effect. “Win the next five games and I’ll shave my head completely bald. Smooth as a baby’s behind.”

Tags: Brenda Rothert Sin City Saints Hockey Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net