Page 42 of Breaking the Ice

It’s for the best. I repeat this mantra to myself. But my stomach drops in disappointment as I drive away. Why do I want the one guy I can’t have?

Chapter

Eighteen

EVAN

Isabella: I just finished our Elementary Math homework. How do you feel about it?

Evan: I had a question about #14. What did you get?

Isabella: I’m not going to give you the answer!

Evan: You’re the worst.

Isabella: You made a typo. Pretty sure you meant best. Because I’m going to actually help you understand what you’re doing.

Evan: In that case, can you tutor me in every area of my life?

Coach Bouchard blows his whistle, and I come to a halt. Panting, I swipe my sleeve over my face, trying to wipe away some of the sweat on my face, but my helmet is in the way. Relief and satisfaction flood my veins. I love hockey, but the whistle at the end of practice has to be one of the best sounds on the face of the earth. I’ve earned a hot shower.

Bouchard blows the whistle again, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright, men, good practice. Go shower and get changed but stick around. Coach Russell has an important announcement.”

I raise a brow and glance at Jonas as we skate off the ice. “You know anything about this?”

“Don’t look at me.”

“Dude, you’re the captain.”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean I get privileged information.”

“What do you think Coach is gonna say?” I ask, dropping my stick and taking off my gloves, putting them in the designated equipment spots in the locker room.

Jonas shrugs and looks around. “Can’t be something about a new facility because this place is already state-of-the-art.”

He’s right. The Harrison hockey program keeps consistently making it to the Frozen Four—and if we have anything to say about it, we’re going to win it all this year. So while we don’t have a massive boosters program or a crazy fanbase like the football or men’s basketball teams, the university has spent some serious dough on our space and upgraded everything.

Jonas pales. “I hope it’s not a new coach.”

My stomach clenches. On the one hand, I love Coach Russell. He’s tough but fair and pushes us all to play at the highest level we are capable of. But on the other hand, he’s Isabella’s dad and if he wasn’t my coach…

I clear my throat. “I’m sure it’s not that.”

Jonas and I continue to speculate while we shower and dress—from wild theories about facing off against NHL teams to a college version of the outdoor Winter Classic—until we are interrupted by Coach Bouchard herding everyone into the center of the locker room.

“Alright, men gather ‘round.”

Coach Russell holds his ever-present clipboard and runs a hand through his shaggy silver hair. He looks down at his notes, then back at us. “The NCAA is trying something new this year. A six-game tournament in Las Vegas over Thanksgiving break to showcase each of the conference champs from last year and hopefully drum up more interest in college hockey.”

He pauses while the room buzzes with this information, the most repeated phrase being, “Las Vegas.”

Once we quiet, he continues. “As the number two team last year, we get an automatic bye into this tournament. It’s just an exhibition game, but we’re going to take it seriously. I know it may not have been what you planned for Thanksgiving, but you knew you weren’t traveling home.”

Since the holiday is during the hockey season, we usually get one day off with practice and games over the weekend. We’re used to it. But we’ve never traveled to Vegas before. It’s usually exotic places like North Dakota or Wisconsin, so this is pretty cool.

Coach clears his throat for our attention again.

“However, in light of some recent events, the university wants to make sure you are all prepared to represent Harrison well, like the upstanding young men I know you to be. Ms. Kayla Barnes from the Public Relations Department is here to speak with you, and I know you will give her the respect she deserves.” He practically growls the last words, and everyone stands up taller, the implicit threat lingering in the room.