Page 4 of Halftime

I thought there was a good chance the coach would blow off the idea immediately, but instead, he looked at Blondie, then at me, and then stared out over the ice at who knew what.

“Sure, Coop.” He nodded. “We’ve got a few minutes before we need to get started here.”

I took another gulp of water before putting my helmet back on. “Watch and learn, ladies!” I taunted as I skated back to the net.

I could talk a good game with any of the teammates I’d had, boy or girl, and the ones I’d played against. That was part of the whole scenario. But unless it was a bad day, I could back it up. And today was a good day. These guys, dressed for the first time as the Moo U team, were anxious to look good for their coach and teammates. They’d brought their A game. But I had an A-plus game going.

It’s not that no one could score—but almost no one did. I wasn’t perfect even on my best day, but only two pucks got past me, and one of those bounced off the post, hit my back, and went in. On more than fifty shots, that was acceptable.

I still wanted the other one back.

As much fun as it was, they did have a practice to run, so the coach whistled, the guys gathered around him, and I was left alone in the net. Again, I gathered up my stuff, pulled off the helmet, and prepared to skate over to the women’s locker room.

“Devereaux!” It was Blondie, Coop. “Not too shabby.”

I pulled my hand out of my glove and scratched my nose with my middle finger. I heard the guys laugh, and I skated off the ice with a smile.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in my coach’s office, and I wasn’t smiling.

“Why are you here, Ms. Devereaux?”

I’d been told to stop and see her before I left. I wasn’t sure what was up, but I’d knocked on her door as soon as I’d showered. No one wants to be on their coach’s bad side. She told me to come in and then glared at me. Apparently, she hadn’t asked to see me to say I’d done a good job in practice.

I wasn’t sure what answer she was looking for, so I went with my honest response. “I’m here to play hockey.”

She leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. “With which team?”

Oh shit.I could only give one answer. “The women’s team.”Obviously.

“Then why were you on the ice with the men?”

I didn’t know this woman yet. I didn’t know if she had a sense of humor. I didn’t know if I was totally screwed. “It was a kind of joke.”

“A joke? Do you think our team here is a joke?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.“No, ma’am. It was something the Junior team did back home, a thing for the rookies. To show them that a woman could stop them, so they didn’t think—”

“I don’t know or care what you did ‘back home’. I’m worried about what you do here. I don’t need one of my players being a ‘joke’ for the men’s team. Maybe it’s different ‘back home’, but here, we’ve had to fight for everything we have in the women’s hockey program. I don’t need to lose ground because a freshman wants some attention from the boys.”

My mouth dropped open.Attention from the boys?Did she think I was desperate for them to like me? “With all due respect, ma’am, I didn’t want their attention. I wanted them to know that a woman can be just as good at hockey as they are.”

Coach’s eyes snapped with anger, and she leaned forward, an angry expression on her face. “Just as good at hockey? I don’t need an overconfident freshman on a mission to show the world she’s just as good at hockey as the men. I need team players, players who want to be here, who want to playwomen’shockey. Yes, Ms. Devereaux, I know you’ve played with the boys. And I know who your father is. And I don’t give a flying…fig. If you’re playing here only because there isn’t a ‘boys’ team that will sign you, you can pack your duffle and go. I have no room for divas and egos on this team. You’re good, Ms. Deveraux, but if you’re not a team player, you’re no good to me. If you come back to our next practice, I expect a better attitude. Think it over. And close the door on your way out.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

By the time Coach was done ripping me a new one, the rest of my teammates were gone. I packed up to leave, feeling like I’d just tanked my entire future.

Fuck!

I wondered how she’d found out I was playing with the guys. I wondered if one of my teammates had seen me and told her. Did the whole team hate me now, or just my coach? How could I fix this? When I’d had trouble with teammates before, there’d been an easy solution. Play better. Because when a team was winning games, everything tended to go more smoothly. But now, if I played well, was everyone going to think I was just doing it to show the guys I was as good as they were? Because I wished I was playing with them?

Truthfully, to reach my goals, I couldn’t be as good as the guys, I had to be better. And I couldn’t do that unless I played.

Fuck.

I wished I had someone to talk to, but I didn’t know my teammates yet, and they might already hate me. Obviously, talking to my coach was out. I wasn’t calling my parents. I didn’t need my dad interfering. I slammed out of the locker room, mood a complete 180 from when I’d left the ice a half hour ago. I was blinking back tears, because I could not be the emotional girl as well as the show-off.

I was tired and upset and angry and ready for this day to be over already. I wasn’t looking where I was going and ran into someone. A tall, hard, masculine someone, because it was just that perfect a day. I muttered sorry and stepped to the side, wanting nothing more than to get to my room where I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me while I tried to come to grips with what had just happened.