Page 23 of Scoring Lessons

I needed a solution. And Wesley Hayes was exactly that. My last chance to prove I still had a life ahead of me and that it wasn’t too late to find the pieces I’d lost.

SEVEN

WESLEY

WHO THE HELL MADE YOU BOSS?

A few days later, the blades of my skates glided against the ice with every push I made. I cut tight around the cones in figure-eights, exploded forward into crossovers, then snapped into a backward pivot before darting the other way.

I shifted my weight onto my inside edges and carved some hard turns, forcing my legs through the burn as I weaved through the line.

My future may have been up in the air, but training by myself was the only calm through this storm. It was the only reason I had to get up from bed every day, which was something that was becoming harder as time ticked by slowly, like the universe knew my life was about to be thrown upside down and wanted to delay it as much as possible.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I turned around and found Olivia with her arms crossed and her famous pissed frown etched on her face, creating a line between her perfectly shaped dark eyebrows. My hand twitched with the need to run a thumb across it and erase the tension.

“Playing basketball, obviously,” I answered sarcastically as I skated closer to her and wiped my sweaty forehead with my practice jersey.

She casually lifted the fabric of her blue long-sleeve Strikers polo to check the time on her smartwatch. “Training camp ended an hour ago.”

“I felt like doing some drills.”

She thinned her lips. “Forgetting about our conversation already?”

I jumped over the boards and kept the groan that wanted to slip past my lips in check then took a seat on the bench. “Yup.”

“At least you’re honest.”

I took off my gloves and helmet then threaded my fingers through my sweaty hair as I dropped my stick on the rubber floor. “To a fault,” I replied easily.

“You’re going to injure yourself if you keep going like this.” Each word she spoke was filled with exasperation.

I remained quiet as I craned my neck.

“The last thing you need is an ACL tear. Don’t be stupid for the sake of ego,” she continued, her voice laced with annoyance.

“Are you actually incapable of keeping your opinions to yourself?” I snapped then cursed under my breath as soon as the words slipped out of me.

My eyes raked over her long legs with each purposeful step she took, admiring the pair of black leggings that left nothing to the imagination.

Je-sus. Leggings on Olivia should have been illegal. She looked good in them. A little too good, and the thought alone gave me a fresh dose of annoyance to my already foul mood.

She pinned me in place with a knowing look. “You’re nervous about next week.” It was a statement, not a question—and I hated that. I hated how confident she sounded. I also hated how my comment didn’t stop her from reading me like an open book.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I dropped my gaze and bit the inside of my cheek to keep my shaky breathing in check.

My head pounded with the headache that I knew was on the horizon due to the lack of rest. I was running on little to no sleep, knowing they were announcing the lineup soon.

I was being moved. I knew it in my goddamn gut.

The second line was still a good place to be. We had strong players across the board, but it still stung knowing I was losing the spot I fought tooth and nail for. All because I couldn’t level up. All because I didn’t have the natural talent a man like Sullivan did.

It didn’t matter how long I had been mentally preparing for this; the reality of it all made my skin clammy and tightened my stomach into knots.

She took a seat next to me with a sigh. “Second line isn’t the end of the world. You know that, right?”

It shouldn’t have surprised me that she knew what I was thinking. She’d witnessed every play during training camp since she had been attending every practice session and meeting with each athlete individually.