Page 40 of Worth the Risk

Well, Luca was right about one thing. He definitely did ruin me for any other man.

Luca

One of the nice things about hockey is the fact that teams typically have overnight flights. Coaches like to have us fly out right after our games, so we can sleep in the next city, and wake refreshed.

So explain to me why the fuck our coach loves to have us on morning flights. And I’m not talking about a flight after sunrise, where we’d have time to grab breakfast. No. I’m referring to flights that are so early, so ridiculous, that nothing is open. No one is on the roads.

If only there were ways to fine coaches for this kind of bullshit.

The Wolves ownership has a team plane. A plane that can fly any damn time of the day. So why are we flying at the crack of dawn? Who the fuck knows. The owners are, for lack of a better term, granola. Many people in Colorado are, especially in Boulder, where the owners live. I can only assume they probably make us fly this fucking early because there’s less fuel burned into the atmosphere, or some shit like that.

I don’t care how we fly, in all honesty. I go to sleep as soon as my head hits the headrest. I’m one of those people who can sleep anywhere. The loud hum of the flight lulls me right to sleep.

It’s the getting up at the ass crack of dawn I could do without.

And leaving a naked, voluptuous Hannah in her bed so I could get packed into an airplane with a bunch of smelly guys? Not my idea of a good time. Especially after our night.

I don’t miss the smirk Coach Davenport throws my way. Yeah, asshole. I know you’re onto us. He’s feeling way too victorious about separating us. I don’t even know how he did it. He doesn’t have any say with the social media team. I don’t even know if he has pull with the GM. All I know is Hannah was supposed to be on this trip with us. Now she’s not, and he’s looking way too happy about it.

“Hey Santzy, why didn’t you come out with us last night? Been a while since you’ve partied with us,” a voice says as he sits next to me. I open my eyes to see Ryan McNichols, the goaltending coach, looking at me intently.

“The fuck you doing back here? You highfalutin coaches stick in first class,” I tease him. Ryan used to play with me. He was the unofficial captain my first two years here, and was hired on when he retired a few years back. Goalies can’t be captains, due to the logistical nightmare that would provide in the heat of a game, but he was always a leader everyone looked up to. He’s one of the few — actually the only — coaches I like on this team. I would like Davenport, but even this minute, he’s glaring at me from first class. Impressive, honestly, considering I’m well past the exit rows and in a window seat.

“Just wanted to see how you are,” Ryan says, before clearing his throat, and then lowers his voice. “You didn’t hear this from me, man, but there’s a witch-hunt out for you. Woodward and Davenport are determined to get you off the team.”

“I know,” I sigh. I’ve kept my nose clean. Absolutely no bad publicity at all. But nothing appeases Coach Woodward.

“I knew Woodward didn’t like you, but what’d you do to piss off Davenport?”

“Fuck if I know.” I’m certainly not telling Ryan about Hannah. It’s not that I don’t trust Ryan, but I know it’s his job to report back to the coaches. If it’s between him staying loyal to me or loyal to the team, I expect him to choose the latter.

Ryan clears his throat again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I overheard him talking about his niece living next to you.”

“Okay?”

“Is it true?”

“Yes, she lives next door to me. It’s her aunt’s apartment, but she’s staying there currently.”

“Davenport suggested there was something … there,” Ryan whispers, looking around nervously.

“Suggested.”

“Yeah.”

“Use your damn words, McNichols. What the fuck did he say?”

Ryan clears his throat again, his eyes darting around.

“I swear to all fuck, Ryan, you clear your throat one more fucking time …”

“He said he saw chemistry and assumed you were fucking her,” he blurts out. “Say it ain’t true, Santzy. I know you like getting your dick wet, but the coach’s niece? You’re really fucking with your career if that’s the case.”

Last night, when Hannah told me she was a bad liar, it made me think about the fact that I’m a good liar. Granted, I don’t go around lying just for the sake of lying, but I know when needed, I can get away with quite a bit. So, I put on my Lying Luca hat, look Ryan straight in the eyes, and lie. “Not true, Man. Hannah’s gorgeous, but she’s not my type. Way too uptight for my taste. And I wouldn’t fuck up my chances with the team like that.”

Ryan audibly sighs, his posture dramatically changing as he relaxes in the seat. “Thank fuck. I was freaked I’d have to go back up there and tell them …”

“Tell them what?” I say sharply. Ryan’s face pales.