Page 6 of The Risk Taker

He chuckles, resting his stick across his shoulders. “Yeah, but you stayed sharp anyway. That’s the difference.”

I flex my fingers inside my gloves, feeling the blood start to flow again. “Difference between what?”

“Good and great,” he says. “And you, kid? You’ve got the potential to be great.”

The words make my brows lift. He doesn’t toss around praise or inflate egos. Especially not mine. Not when we share a last name.

I tug off my mask and push to my feet slowly, groaning as my back cracks. “Guess that means I can coast now, huh?” I say with a tired grin.

Dad snorts, tapping the end of his stick against the toe of his skate. “Nice try. Being my kid doesn’t come with shortcuts. If anything, it means you get more work.”

“Lucky me,” I mutter, pulling off one glove as we coast toward the boards.

There’s no room to screw up when your dad’s the coach. No excuses, no off days. But I get it. He pushes because he believes in me and wants me to be better. It’s just… a hell of a lot of pressure.

We step off the ice and into the tunnel, the sound of our blades clicking on the rubber mat. His tone shifts as he pops the clips off his helmet. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Nate.”

I glance over. “That supposed to soften me up for something?”

He half-smiles, pulling the helmet off and tucking it under his arm. “You also carry more than the rest of them. You’ve gotta keep this team grounded… Especially Logan.”

That name stops me cold. “Logan?”

He nods. “He’s late more often than not. And when he does show, he looks like he’s still recovering from the night before. You’ve seen it.”

Yeah. I’ve seen it.

The guy strolls in grinning like the world’s on fire and he’s the only one not getting burned. He doesn’t care about the rules, or the schedule, or the weight the rest of us carry.

“He’s talented as hell,” Dad goes on as we hit the locker room. “But if he doesn’t shape up, it drags everyone else down.”

I unzip my chest protector and shove my gloves into my bag. “I’ve noticed,” I say, my jaw tight.

“That’s why I need you to be the balance,” he says, slapping me on my back. “Make sure he shows up. Keeps in line.”

I yank at the strap on my pads. “So, what? You want me to babysit him?”

“More like anchor him,” he says, stooping to yank off his skates. “If Logan drifts too far off, the whole team feels it. You need to be the one who keeps him steady.”

“Ryan’s the captain,” I point out. “Shouldn’t he be the one handling this?”

Dad lets out a laugh. “You know I’d make you captain if it didn’t look like favoritism. Besides, he’s too busy going all goo-goo-ga-ga over your sister.”

I groan. “Gross.”

“Tell me about it.” He shakes his head.

I drag a hand down my face. “Great. Just what I always wanted.”

Dad claps me on the back. “Don’t give me that,” he says. “You two balance each other. He loosens you up. You keep him focused. Works both ways.”

Fuck my life. Like I didn’t have enough to be worried about. Now, I need to keep Logan Gray’s ass in line.

“Besides, you’re single. You’ve got time on your hands…” He pauses, smirking. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”

I shoot him a look. “No.”

His brow lifts. “That was a quick answer.”