Shea

Brenna won't talk to me.

All throughout our hockey game, she targets me. It's nice to know our exchange didn't ruin the urge to win a hockey game.

In the end, we win in a shootout.

Brenna smashes her stick across the boards as she exits the ice.

"She's falling down a rabbit hole," Tucker mutters. He skates up beside me. "What the fuck did you do?"

I shoot him an irritated glare. "Talked to her. She didn't take well to it."

I don't mention the kiss. Or my stupid confession.

Tucker raises his eyebrows. "Surprised you're still alive."

"Man," I snort. "I should've died long ago."

Our chuckles dissipate into the cold air. Hunter expels a deep breath. Exhaustion is visible on his face. "Listen, Nick, Jayden, Drew, and I are hanging out tonight. Do you and KJ want to tag along? Board games or video games. Haven't decided yet. But there will be alcohol and food."

"Why not?" I shrug. Unwinding with a crowd I can trust sounds fun. After all this, I need a break. Mom is home, so I don't need to worry about Chelsea. Besides, I'd never give up free food or drinks. "Where's the party at?"

Hunter points his gloved hand at me. "It's not a party. We're hanging out. It's at my place. You and KJ can follow me home. Unless you don't want to come. It's not a party."

Party or not, there's alcohol. "I'll let KJ know. We'll join you guys."

A ghost of a smile appears on Hunter's face. He taps his hockey stick against my shins. "Meet you in the hallway."

For a second, I'm wondering what the hell he's talking about. Then I remember. We're talking to the coaches tonight.

A new plethora of anxiousness infects me.

Every ounce of egotistical masculinity in my body begs me not to tattle on Connor. There will be ramifications. Connor will know I told Coach about his plans. He'll be pissed. Rumours will spread about me and Tucker. Jayden and KJ.

I take a deep breath.

Caring about what other people think is detrimental to my mental health. I've been a victim of thought process for years. For too long, I've cared about my father's opinion. Connor and the rest of the team's opinion. The school's opinion.

I can only be the best I can be, learning as I go. Crediting myself, appreciating myself... it's something I need to improve on.

Skating to the bench, I step off of the ice and follow my teammates into the locker room. Connor is boasting. He's on a high like the rest of the team. Beating West Kelowna should feel good. We're rivalries.

I'm stuck in my mind.

All my life, I've allowed opinions to get to me. Dad's opinion made me destroy a friendship. Connor's made me agree to a bet. I gave them power. Power over my self-worth, and decisions. They influenced me when they shouldn't have. Their actions were wrong. I knew that. Yet I still did nothing.

I'm done.

Aggressiveness replaces my anxiety, which I can justify. Sure, we won the game. But Brenna was hell-bent on demolishing me—and not in the way I want. My teammates will think I'm furious with her. Not with me. West Kelowna played better than we did. We shouldn't have won. Brenna's effort never ceases to amaze me. My mindset before was wrong. She deserves to play hockey because she has skill. Skill that's better than mine in some areas.

Unbuckling my helmet, I toss it across the locker room. It hits the bench, then clatters to the floor. The echoing noise earns me a few stink eyes. I return their expressions with a sneer. I'm pissed at myself. For thinking about Brenna the way I did. For letting the opinions of others fuel my direction.

I'm a fool.

For the next five minutes, I work at removing my hockey gear, allowing my inner frustration to fuel me. Next time I decide on an action, I need to weigh my options. Judge the options on how they'll affect me, not someone else. What people think of me doesn't affect who I am.

Jayden nudges me. He's removed his hockey sweater and upper body gear. Leaning over, he unlaces his skates. "You good, man? You're staring at that skate like you want to make a murder weapon out of it."

"Not sure," I murmur.

Tossing the skate into my hockey bag, I unlace the other one.

Jayden's gaze flicks to Connor. "Me neither."

I follow his gaze. Connor's smug grin sickens me.

The kid's still boasting about our win. He looks like he wants to pop a bottle of champagne. He's acting like we've won the Stanley Cup. When all we did was get lucky. Brenna's team outplayed us. I didn't post any points because of her aggressive defensive behaviour, which is strange for a forward. For Brenna, though, I know she's pissed at me.

Connor, who heard Jayden's question, tosses a ball of masking tape at me. It hits my forehead. "What's with the gloomy attitude? We won! There's nothing to be upset about. Harrison and the rest of her team are crying in the locker room. Oh. Wait. Harrison can't cry with her team. She's alone."

He nudges Preston in the ribs. Preston runs a hand through his hair while he chuckles with Connor.

I shrug his words off, turning back to my skate. Once it's off, I slide it into my hockey bag. All I want to do is get out of here. Once the conversation with the coaches is over, I'll be able to relax.

"Awe," he teases. "Does someone need a hug? Never took you as the huggy-type, Smith. But whatever to make my teammate happy, as long as he's making other people cry."

Although Connor's teasing, his voice is menacing. He climbs to his feet, staring at me as if he's about to follow through with his fucking hug.

"Come over here," I warn, "and I'll shove my hockey stick up your ass."

He freezes.

So do the rest of my teammates.

Yeah, maybe my voice was a little scary. So what? Connor deserves it.

Cocking an eyebrow, he crosses his arms and says, "Well, well, well. It seems as if someone has grown a pair of balls. It's about time. Masculinity was looking nonexistent for you."

My grip tightens on the hockey stick.

From what I've learned, masculinity can be toxic. Although I'm still struggling with eradicating the toxic components from my life, I'm working toward my goal to do so. The expectations to solve things on our own, to be void of any emotion... we've done this to ourselves. We're the reason women are guarded. Complying with roles we're assigned at birth gives us excuses to act like assholes. It dehumanizes us. Makes us think we're superior to other people. Somewhere, history turned men crooked. I wish I could fix the damage done.

Beads of sweat breakout across my forehead as I maintain eye contact with Connor. My nerves are jittery. I'm not sure what to say. How to stand up to him. I've never had the courage or information to do so. Last time I tried, Jayden got beat up.

"Having 'balls' doesn't make me masculine, Connor. Not that I want it. Masculinity is toxic as fuck. Go poke at someone who's bothered. 'Cause I'm not."

Silence. Metaphorical crickets.

A frown encompasses his face. His lips part. He has a lot to say, that much I can tell. My shoulders tense, which is my way of preparing for his upcoming verbal assault. He ripped a strip off of Jayden the other day. After Jayden expresses his opinion about Connor's sexist comments.

Connor isn't the first one to speak.

Preston is.

He snorts, as if this is the most comical fucking conversation we've had. "You're bothered if you're making a scene, Smith. What gives? Too much time fucking Harrison?"

My posture straightens. "I haven't touched her, Preston, and I won't until she gives me consent. Don't spin lies."

Wrong choice of words.

Connor flashes me a devilish grin. "So the bet's working?"

"What bet?" KJ snorts.

Everyone, including me, looks at him. He's sitting on the corner. His jersey and all upper body hockey equipment are gone, as are his skates. He's still wearing his hockey pants and socks. KJ leans back, looking smug.

"What?" he continues. "I was drunk that night. I need a refresher. Shea doesn't enjoy discussing it. Anyone care to refresh my memory?"

Connor rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "Fucking dense, Jones. I told Smith I'd pay him if he could get Harrison into bed and then break her heart. That way, she'd be too emotionally distraught to play hockey. Our win would be secure. It will be secure."

KJ rubs the stubble on his jaw. "Ah, that's ringing a bell. Just a tiny one, though."

Turning around, I grab my sweater off of the hook. Then I pull it on. Connor's fucking dense. KJ's more aware of the bet than anyone in this room. He discusses it with Ella all the time. That's what happens when your friends are involved and you're worried about them. Connor's ego is blinding him. He can't see that KJ's coaxing the truth out of him.

Which means...

From the corner of my eye, I search the space around KJ. He must be recording this. Somehow, he's recording this. Maybe this time, he'll have the sound on.

I want to keep looking, but that would be a mistake. If Connor finds out KJ's recording him, we're fucked.

"Great," Connor drawls. "Now that we've resolved KJ's idiocy, I believe we need an update, Smith. How are things going?"

I lean down and zip up my hockey bag. I'll wait outside. KJ can come get me after everyone's left.

"What's there to say?" I shrug, slinging my hockey bag over my shoulder. "The report is the same. It takes time, Connor. I've got until playoffs. Let me work my magic. Harrison's stubborn."

The words taste vile on my tongue. Although my words have a different context, anyone listening would think otherwise. I sound ignorant and sexist. As if I have more power over Brenna. As if my charm will bring her to knees. That is not the case. She could bring me to my knees.

She already has. Right on the fucking dance floor at the Winter Formal. Then she kicked me to the curb.

And if that makes me a fool, then so be it.

Suddenly, his hand is on my shoulder. He spins me around. Our gazes lock. "See," he chuckles. "That's not good enough. We need progress."

Jayden gets to his feet and gives Connor a shove. "Leave our captain alone, Connor."

Connor's beady eyes search his face. "Careful, Miller. Your nose looks like it's healed. I may need to break it again."

My temper snaps. As I step forward, my shoulder bumps against Jayden's. He stumbles to the side. "I've had enough of your shit," I snarl. I shove him again. "Have you ever tried to get to know a girl? Shits like you call them stubborn. All they are is smart. The male population has given them enough reason to not trust us. Try undoing that damage, Connor. I fucking dare you."

Then the fucker snorts.

"Why undo all our hard work? Submissiveness is all they know. Don't make them think they have power, Smith. Especially Harrison. Her mind is something else."

My fist collides with Connor's jaw.

Violence is never the way to solve an issue. But this is an exception. The man can't tell the difference between his ass and his mouth. All I hear is shit coming out. He needs a lesson.

If he says one more thing about Brenna...

There will be hell to pay.

Before Connor can react, I grab his collar and shove him against the wall. He's stuck between Preston and Georges.

"Stop it," I snarl. "Say one more thing about Bren, and I will end you."

Despite the red welt on his jaw, Connor grins. "Bren? Odd name for enemies."

My throat feels tight.

Shit. Maybe I've gone too far.

"She's a friend," I spit. "What did you expect when you roped me into this bet? You have to be friends before anything else."

"Fair enough," he shrugs.

It's bullshit. The grin is still present on his face.

Letting go of Connor, I step back and squeeze the bridge of my nose. "Just leave me alone, Connor. You'll get what you deserve, trust me."

Turning away, I adjust my hockey bag and leave the locker room. Any anger has dissipated. Exhaustion now replaces it. There's nothing more I want than a hot shower, food, and my bed. Maybe I'll skip out on hanging with Tucker and his buddies.

Might be a good idea.

We'll see how much energy I have left by the end of this.

*  *  *

We don't enter coach's office until the team has vacated the premises. Coach always stays late on Saturday evenings. He likes to have one drink and catch up on the highlights in the NHL. Maybe catch the last of a game if one is still live.

Coach opens the door after the third knock.

He looks surprised when he sees me, Jayden, and KJ. And, judging by the shuffling behind us, I think Tucker and his coach have arrived.

Coach raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Aiden. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Brenna's coach shrugs. "I'm clueless, Matthias. Tucker told me we needed to have a conversation."

"Very well," Coach sighs. He steps aside. "Take a seat in my office."

We file into the office, leaving our hockey equipment in the hallway. Coach's small office is crowded, but Jayden and the rest of the guys insist Aiden (Brenna's coach) and I sit in the two available chairs.

"So," Coach says. "What's going on here?"

KJ tosses his phone on the desk. He nods. "Play the video. Both of you need to watch it."

I glance at KJ. He flashes me a grin. What a sneaky bastard.

Frowning, Coach picks up KJ's phone. He shoots us an uneasy glance before flipping the phone and tapping play. Both coaches watch with intense interest. I try to not plug my ears. Every word that comes out of my mouth in that video makes me feel sick. Plus, I hate the sound of my voice. Recordings always sound terrible.

At least KJ had the sound on this time. At least we have proof to help Brenna.

When the video ends, Coach hands KJ back his phone. He then crosses his arms and stares at the knotted wood of his desk.

Coach Aiden Jameson looks furious. And, of course, his anger is directed at me.

"What the fuck did you do to Brenna?"

"Nothing!" I exclaim. "I told Brenna about the bet. She agreed to play along so we could bring Connor down." I gesture to the phone in KJ's hand. "Hence this meeting and the proof! We want Connor gone. He beat Jayden up. Pulled Brenna into a game she never asked for."

"What about you?" he spits.

I slouch in my seat. What about me? If we're being technical, I should be suspended until further notice. Although I've made some good decisions, I've also made bad ones. I should suffer the consequences.

Even if it means saying goodbye to all my dreams.

"I deserve the consequences," I say. "Whatever you two decide. Just please make sure Connor doesn't harass Brenna or my teammates."

Jayden rests a hand on my shoulder, squeezes.

His gesture spurs me on.

"While I'm being honest," I continue. "My intentions were to comply with Connor's bet at the beginning. Sleeping with Brenna was never on the table, but breaking her heart and eliminating her as a threat during the playoffs was appealing. But that was before she knocked some sense into me. I realize how important this is. For her and younger generations of girls. I'm sorry. I understand the mistakes I made. Which is why we're here, trying to remedy this shit show."

I expel a deep breath, waiting for the hammer to come down. They'll murder me on the spot. In a metaphorical fashion, of course. I'll be stripped of captaincy. Kicked off of the team.

Coach gestures to my friends. "Why are you here?"

"Damage control," KJ grins.

Hunter punches him.

"We're here to back Shea up," Jayden says.

I suppress a snort. Jayden Miller: The Responsible One. He deserves a medal for putting up with our shit.

"Shea isn't lying," he continues. "We were at the party. Hunter has been talking to Brenna. She knows about the bet, just like the rest of us. We had a common interest in putting Connor in his place. We've been watching events play out since mid-October. Shea and Brenna are friends now. They're on the same page. All of us are."

"Shea?" Coach says. His gaze pierces me.

I can't handle it. My nerves are shot. Which is why I continue to blab.

"I want to date Brenna Harrison. But the league is problematic. What they're doing to her is unfair. Her decisions shouldn't be based on her sex. We're allowed to date whomever we please. What the league is doing is sexist. I will expose them if I have to justify this."

The truth won't stop spilling out. All this time, I've kept my emotions bottled up. I never meant for things to go so far. But they did. You can't control your heart.

"Shea," Coach says.

"I'm serious. I'll do whatever I can to help Brenna. So will the guys. We—"

"Shea!"

I bite my bottom lip. Too much information. That was too much fucking information, and now I've made a fool of myself.

Coach presses his fingers against the desk. "What you've done is admirable. This is a serious issue. I will speak to Connor. As well as suspending him until further notice and an investigation is underway. Until then, you will continue to play."

Jameson snorts. "That's not good enough." He gestures to me. "This shit put my niece in danger. Because his fucking ego couldn't take it."

Niece?

My mind almost explodes.

Randy's last name must be Jameson.

Randy Jameson.

Brenna's coach is her dad's brother.

Holy fuck.

I blink several times as shock courses through me.

Hunter curses.

"Wait. Back the fuck up. You're Randy's brother? As Brenna's uncle has been her coach this whole time?" KJ asks.

His weathered lips pucker. He directs his gaze to the floor. The sheepish expression pisses me off. "Ava requested I stay silent. My brother suffered from addiction for a long time. Still does. Ava thought she could fix him. Sometimes, son, people can't be fixed unless they want to be fixed. Victims of addiction need to be willing. They need reason. Enabling Randy was a problem until five years ago. My wife and I had to cut the toxicity from our lives. Convincing Ava to do so was tricky. She still slips up. That's why Brenna met her dad in Kamloops."

This is too much. I can't imagine how Brenna will react.

"Will you tell her? Brenna, I mean."

Jameson nods. "After the season is over. That was the plan. Until Randy showed up. Do me a favour, kid. Let me tell her." 

This just got ten times worse. Brenna looks up to Aiden. She always brags about his amazing coaching skills. No wonder she trusts him. He's her uncle, and she doesn't fucking know it.

I need some air.

No, I need a fucking drink.

"This is a disaster," Hunter mutters.

"No kidding," I reply.

"We're getting off topic," Jayden says. "What consequences will Connor face? I agree with coach Jameson. Suspending Connor isn't good enough. He's impulsive and abusive. Manipulative. We need a guarantee that he'll no longer be able to play his games. And I'm not talking about hockey."

Coach nods. "I'll need a copy of the video."

"On it," KJ replies.

While they continue discussing consequences, I stare at Aiden. I'm unaware of what Randy looks like. But if I had to hazard a guess, I'd assume the same nose and eye shape. Just because Brenna has them, too.

Aiden blinks, then turns to Coach. He speaks. "Fine. Your terms are favourable. Leave Smith out of this and resort the consequences to Connor." He's still staring at me when he adds, "You're lucky. I would've put a permanent mark on your file, Smith. As for the dating, you will go nowhere near her. She's been through enough."

"Says the one who's been lying to his niece," Hunter snaps.

Everyone looks at Hunter. Including me.

Huh. Tucker's standing up for me. It's strange. Before all this shit, we were enemies. Now we're hanging out. Working together to make sure Brenna's okay.

I don't mind the kid at all.

Hunter continues to speak. "Brenna is my best friend. You know that. Trust me when I say you can't keep her and Shea away from each other. This has been good. A breath of fresh air, if you ask me." He glances at me. "Their fighting was a pain in the ass. Even if Smith deserved to have his ass kicked."

I smile down at my hands. She did kick my ass. Brenna sure knows how to throw her coffee. "Sure did."

Coach Jameson seems surprised by my comment.

That's not enough for me.

Exhaling, I say, "Look. Brenna's hurting. All I want to do is help. I'll let nothing happen to her. The guys want to help, too. We just... we need permission. Me and Brenna. A green light."

I pick at my cuticles. No one else saw or heard Brenna the night of the Winter Formal. We're bending the rules too much. To me, it sounds like she wants a chance at something more than a friendship. There's no harm in asking her out, right? If she agrees, great. If she doesn't, that's great as well. It's her decision.

"I'll defend you," Coach nods. He strokes the stubble on his jaw. "You have proven time and time again you can separate hockey from home life." He sends me a sympathetic smile. He's referring to my home life. "I trust there won't be a difference."

"There won't," I nod.

Coach looks at Coach Jameson. "What's say you, Aiden?"

He clears his throat. Aiden is stuck in the middle. He doesn't want to agree, but he knows he has to. "Ava has mentioned your name. Brenna seems to talk about you a lot." He sighs. "My niece deserves to be happy. If you, Shea Smith, make her happy, then don't let silly rules prevent you from keeping her happy. I won't support rules that eliminate the rights of my niece."

Jayden squeezes my shoulder again. KJ knocks me on the head with his knuckles.

Hunter is the only one who doesn't react. He's too busy glaring at his coach. Can't blame him. I'd be pissed, too.

"We will deal Connor with. I can assure you," Coach says. "I think his time with this team is over."

His words are conclusive.

An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. Connor will not be happy. I exchange a glance with KJ. He seems pleased with the outcome, so I drop the uneasy feeling I have. We'll deal with Connor later.

"We'll go," I say. "Thanks for your time, Coach."

Without another word, we head for the door. My hands are shaking as I wonder what the consequences will be. Although we don't attend the same school, Connor knows me. We attend the same parties. Know the same people. Something bad will happen.

KJ, Jayden, and Hunter exit the office before me. Since I'm the last one out, I decide to shut the door.

"Smith," Coach calls out.

Hand on the door, I turn around. "Yeah?"

"You're a good kid. Don't forget that."

I flash him a weak smile then exit the room, shutting the door and leaving both coaches to talk.

People keep complimenting me. For my efforts to change. To be a better person.

All I have to do is learn how to accept it.