Power Play (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Book 2) Read online

  “Things changed.”

  “What? What changed?”

  “I was told you didn’t look too hot in morning skate—”

  “I wonder why?” I say incredulously. “I was up all night, and then I was in you.”

  Her cheeks flush with color. “As I was saying… Because of that, I feel this is the best choice for tonight. Not for good. The Wild are tough to get around, number one in the league. You’re a bull in a china shop, and I need finesse to beat them.”

  That’s such a bullshit answer. I lean in and ask in a low voice, “What did I do wrong?” Her eyes search mine, but she doesn’t say anything. She looks so small. Gone are her assertiveness and confidence. She looks terrified and unsure of herself. “What is going on? What happened? Did I hurt you more than you let on? Did you not want it? Tell me the fucking truth.”

  I know the guys would give me shit for sounding so desperate, but I am. She’s messing with my heart and my career here. I refuse to accept what I am thinking. I need answers. I can tell she’s taken aback by my questioning, and something shifts in her eyes. She looks around as she bites the inside of her lip, but all I can do is stare at her.

  I want to hate her. I want to think she is the biggest bitch in the world, but I know she isn’t. She’s a tough coach and an incredibly strong woman, one I want to know. I know she is a great lay and has a smile that lights up a room, but I want to know her. All of her. Surely this is all a big misunderstanding. I’m reading too much into this. That it is just that the Wild are tough on the PK. I need her to tell me that. I need to know that this isn’t personal. That I didn’t hurt her.

  I couldn’t have hurt her.

  “I think you used me to stay on the power play,” she whispers. Talk about taking a puck square to the chest. Doesn’t matter how much padding I have, her statement fucking hurts.

  “Wow.”

  She looks away.

  “So, you assumed that and took me off the power play in retaliation.”

  She closes her eyes, and when a tear leaks out, my heart stops. “You didn’t text me or call. You just left. You didn’t look at me in the meeting or even acknowledge me. I got super self-conscious. Then I started watching tapes, and I decided it was best you didn’t play this power play if there is one.” She looks up at me then, her eyes filled with such guilt. A tear rolls down her face as she says, “That decision may have been fueled by feeling like you used me.”

  “And you still feel that way?”

  She nods. “You didn’t text me until an hour ago. After the meeting and all, I don’t know. It all seems a little suspect and like I was an afterthought.”

  I nod slowly, trying to keep my composure. “I left my phone at home, and when I got back, it was dead. I didn’t look at you at the meeting because I couldn’t. If I did, I would have tackled your ass to the ground for another kiss. I thought maybe that wouldn’t be good for our careers, so I tried to control myself, something I’ve found I can’t do when it’s you and me alone in a room.”

  Her lips part as she draws in a deep breath. Another tear rolls down her cheek. I know it’s not fair to be upset over this, I know she doesn’t know me like that, but I am. Maybe Julia fucked me up more than I thought, but I’m tired of people assuming I don’t have feelings. That I don’t fucking care.

  Because I do.

  “Instead of jumping to conclusions or even thinking the worst of me, you could have asked. I know I come off as an asshole and tough, but I would never use you, Posey. I’m not that kind of man.”

  She steps toward me, her eyes pleading with mine. “You’re right. I thought the worst—”

  “I’m gonna walk away,” I say, cutting her off. “I feel that’s the best thing to do before we say something we don’t mean. Because, you know, we do have to work together, no matter what.”

  Her shoulders fall, and yeah, it hurts to see that, but my pride won’t let me stop to console her. I move past her and head toward the locker room. To play a game I’m nowhere near prepared for.

  But I’m a professional, and I will prove to Posey, to the coaching staff, and anyone else who doubts me, I deserve to be on that power play.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Posey

  I lean back in my chair as I cross my legs before centering my tablet on the desk before me. Our coaching crew has a box for all home games, so I have prime seating. Since I am a creature of habit when it comes to hockey, I have my seat, my water in the proper place, and my tablet right in the middle. I wear my headset mic on the left, and the pen to my tablet goes behind my right ear. My seat overlooks the whole rink, so I can see the boys play just like I would on video. My headset is for when Jakob and Coach need to call me to discuss plays. It’s always busy and loud in here with all the assistant coaches and my mom and Shelli. It’s been nice sitting with them, and we chitchat during commercial breaks. Today, though, I wish this room were empty. Or better yet, I want to go home, crawl into my bed, and never leave.

  I am a wreck.

  Completely a wreck.

  I’m so used to being hurt and thrown to the side by guys. It’s fucked me up so bad that I’m now the one who hurt someone. I’ve never hurt anyone. It isn’t who I am, yet I let my insecurities turn into a massive, mythical seven-foot goalie who’s like a brick wall in goal. I should have pulled Boon to the side and spoken to him. I just flew by the seat of my pants, and not only is Boon hurt, but Jakob is upset with me.

  I was supposed to take the lead in this game. I was so excited Jakob was allowing me to do this, and after I’d explained myself to him, I was sure it was for the best. But now, I don’t know if I made the right choice. If my decision was made out of fear of what I felt was inevitable. Boon’s right, though. I don’t know him, and I assumed the worst when I didn’t even give him a chance to show me otherwise.

  Now… Now, he may never speak to me again, and that has formed a nasty ball of pain in my gut.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  I don’t look at my sister as I watch the game. “Nothing,” I say, marking things on my tablet about the other team for later. The Wild may be great on the PK, but their 5-on-5 play is sloppy. Mainly because they don’t mind going on the PK. They’re confident.

  “You seem off. Quiet.”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Oh,” she says softly. She puts her hand on the desk, leaning close to me. “Are you sure? You seem different.”

  Well, I lost my virginity today, hurt a dude who really didn’t deserve to be hurt, and I’m so in my head that I am questioning all aspects of my life.

  “I’m just fine,” I say, still not looking at her.

  She brings her hand up, pinching my jaw, turning me so I am looking right in her blue eyes. “I love you.”

  My shoulders fall. My eyes are misty as I try to smile. “I love you too.”

  “I got you, no matter what. You know that.”

  “I know,” I say, and I know she does.

  It’s just hard to speak to someone about something like this. She wouldn’t understand why I was a virgin. She lost her virginity at sixteen, and believe me, that was late for how much those boys were begging. Shelli wouldn’t understand why I feel the way I do, that guys just didn’t seem to want or appreciate me. She never knew how the guys always wanted her instead. I never told her. I just quietly resented her, which I realize isn’t healthy, but I know her. She’d make a scene, make it worse. They don’t call her Slap Shot Shelli for nothing. She’s always going off half-cocked, so yeah, I felt I had to deal with it alone. Now, those issues have ruined what possibly could have been a really awesome thing for me.

  Completely oblivious, Shelli pinches my jaw once more before walking off.

  Just then, the McBroenes line starts skating like they stole money from the bank and the police are coming after them. From the moment Boon hit the ice, I noticed he was playing angry. It’s working—he’s kicking ass—but I hate that I’m the reason he feels t