Page 56 of On the Breakaway

I drop onto the bench next to him. “I know sitting on the sidelines sucks. Thanks for stopping in, though.”

“Can’t let the whole organization fall apart just because I’m out.”

“You’re very humble for someone held together by medical tape at the moment.”

“And you’re jealous because I’m finally getting the princess treatment.”

Before I can fire something back, Drew misses another shot high, and Wyatt throws both hands into the air, tossing his gloves.

“Oh my God,” Wyatt yells. “The net is four feet tall. Are you aiming for God?”

Drew groans loud enough to echo through the rink.

And that means it’s time to call it.

I jerk my chin toward the ice. “Call him off and play nice cop, please. Wyatt’s got the asshole part covered.”

Nathan pushes himself upright with a dramatic sigh. “Kid,” he calls out. “Get over here before the douchebag in goal makes you cry.”

Snow sprays beneath his skates as he stops in front of us, chest heaving.

Nathan gestures with his good arm. “You’re trying to force plays because you think you need to replace me to a T.”

Drew grimaces. “Kinda do.”

“No,” I interrupt. “You need to play your game, not Wilder’s. Just play your game well enough that we don’t lose structure.”

Nathan points at me. “That. Mr. Ray of Sunshine over here says annoying things, but occasionally they’re useful.”

I scoff, “What does that even mean?”

“You’re an optimist. You know, all positive and shit.”

“Not always.” I’m not sure why I’m arguing like it’s an insult, but the smirk on Nathan’s face has me feeling defensive.

“You organized an entire NHL team to show up at Wesley’s season opener wearing Boston Tempest jerseys so I could win my girl back after I mentioned my plan to wear her jersey.”

“The gesture needed to be grander.”

“Exactly my point.”

“That was mostly Liam,” I lie.

“That was not Liam.”

“It was at least thirty percent Liam.”

Nathan ignores me and looks back at Barrett. “Point is, Shaw only meddles in your life if he thinks you’ve got potential. So if he’s spending extra hours helping you, you’re doing fine.”

Drew’s expression eases. “Okay. Yeah.”

“That’s it for today,” I add. “We’ll see how this week’s games go and go from there.”

The rookie nods and heads toward the tunnel while Wyatt peels off his mask, sweaty hair sticking up in every direction.

“You didn’t need to be such a dick,” I tell him, tossing a water bottle his way.

He catches it. “What? Did you want me to suck his dick or something?”