Page 53 of Trick Play

“She is.” Whit took a step to block me from Ethan’s line of sight. “You should go.”

“I’m here as a classmate.”

“Then use the school’s system to contact her.” Whit straightened. “You shouldn’t just stop by whenever you feel the whim.”

“Whit, stop.” I tried to get between them, but neither was willing to back down.

“Look, I’m sorry for how things ended. I’m more sorry than I could ever say for hurting her. I know you were there for her, and I’m incredibly grateful she had you. But this isn’t freshman year. We’ve talked and heard each other out, and what’s been said is between the two of us.”

“Exactly, I was there. I helped put her back together after you destroyed everything. I won’t let it happen again.” He was using his intimidating attorney voice.

“Enough damage has been done,” I cut in. “On both sides. We’ve found a way to move on, so I need you to do the same.” I stared up at Whit, waiting him out.

After a long, silent moment he spoke. “Fine.”

He took the stairs, moving past Ethan without even brushing shoulders, and waited next to his sleek black rental.

“I’m sorry,” I said when I got to Ethan.

“It’s fine. I deserve much more from him.”

He didn’t, but I didn’t have time to convince him.

“Can I call you later?” Why did I feel so awkward talking to him now? Was it because Whit was watching? Or what happened yesterday? “We can coordinate whatever we need to.”

He nodded and walked down with me. He didn’t say anything when he turned to head back toward campus and I went to my brother. The space between us had never felt wider.

Chapter 18

Ethan

The strange haze I’d been existing in for the past few days followed me across campus, but as soon as I stepped into the arena, it dissipated. There was no space for that here. We had a game tonight, and the guys needed me at my best.

I wasn’t there yet, though, so I went to the training room and started with some light cardio to give my mind and body time to shift out of the pity party I’d been throwing myself. I was Ethan Clarkson. One of the top twenty left-wingers in the NCAA. I was right where I was meant to be.

Thinking about Kennedy and her brother was wasting time and energy. I couldn’t do anything about that situation, so I had to focus on what I could control.

As I turned up the speed on the treadmill, I ran through the plays we spent the past few weeks practicing. I felt good about them. Benjamin, Reid, and I had a rhythm that most professional teams prayed for. It was the type of chemistry that couldn’t be taught or forced. There were rare occasions when the right guys were put on the right line at the right time. That was us.

Thankfully, Hunter was a great defenseman and could strengthen any line, so he was left to pick up any slack from the younger guys. The four of us survived the strict rules and grueling practice regime together. We were the last men standing from those that entered freshman year with us. Six had dropped out or transferred over the years. They were talented, but didn’t have the same drive or discipline to hang in.

It was all supposed to pay off this year. We were supposed to be standouts with guaranteed spots in the first three rounds of the draft. We did all we were told and more, and now the promises the coaches made were supposed to be fulfilled.

But what if they weren’t?

I tripped, nearly faceplanting, but caught myself and slammed the stop button.

There was already enough negativity in my head. I couldn’t let myself think about that. It was only November. There was plenty of time for scouts to come out. We would all end up drafted. Even if it meant going to Europe. The four of us would make it.

“Hey, man,” a voice called from the entrance, and I lifted my head to see Hunter giving me a small wave with Benjamin standing behind him.

“You beat us,” our captain teased as he headed to the rowing machine.

“Yeah, I needed some extra time to clear my head,” I replied.

“Did you hear the news?” Hunter asked.

He met me in front of the free weights, handing me a stretching band.