28– Kayden

“I wasn’t cleared.”

Silence.

Coach stared at me as if he couldn’t decide whether to yell or simply walk away. “You weren’t cleared to play?”

“I never said I was.”

“Then why the hell were you on that ice?”

I looked down at my hands.

Because I didn’t know.

Because sitting still with my thoughts had become unbearable.

Because lying in that penthouse with Gabrielle beside me would’ve been worse.

Because every time I closed my eyes, I heard her voice.

I’m ashamed to be associated with you.

Maybe I’d wanted the pain.

Maybe I needed something loud enough to drown out everything else.

But I wasn’t about to say any of that.

So I looked back at my coach and answered, “Because there was a game and I wanted to play it.”

The man had a look of disbelief on his face before, but it deepened even further. “That’s your excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse. I’m explaining why I played.” 

“You think this is funny, Alvarez? You think you’re untouchable because you’re good?” He pointed at me. “You walk onto that rink like the rules don’t apply to you. You take hits like you’re invincible. You ignore your teammates. You ignore instructions. You let your temper take over, and then you throw punches in the middle of a fucking game because somebody knocked you down.”

“He started—”

“I don’t give a damn who started it!” His voice echoed off the walls. Coach laughed once but there was nothing amused about it. “You know what your problem is, Alvarez? You’re talented.”

I almost laughed. That wasn’t where I thought this was going.

“You’re one of the most naturally gifted players I’ve ever coached. You see things on the ice that other players don’t see. You have instincts that can’t be taught. And you are wasting every fucking bit of it.”

Now we were actually getting somewhere, and I hated it.

“You think talent is enough?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t say that.”

Coach crouched so that we were closer to eye level. “You want to know why you keep getting limited?”

My jaw tightened. “I’d rather not, coach. I’m not in the mood for the lecture today.”

“I will smack your face into the ground if you keep up with the attitude, Alvarez. What is wrong with you? Why can’t you understand that you’re holding yourself back?” His gaze sharpened and his voice took on that fatherly register it often did—though I was sure I didn’t ask for a second father when the one I had was already too much to handle. “You keep blaming everybody around you. The referees. Your opponents. The media. Your teammates. Whoever happens to be standing in front of you when you’re angry.” 

“Please, coach. Not today. I beg you.” I clenched my fists. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some fucking child. Don’t try to look out for me.”

“That’s it right there, always so angry all the time.”

“Watch it.”

“No. You watch it,” Coach spat, his voice calm. “You think I haven’t noticed? You think I haven’t watched you walk into practice carrying whatever happened outside these walls and then take it out on the first person who gets in your way? You’re angry when you win. You’re angry when you lose. You’re angry when someone challenges you. You’re angry when someone tries to help you. You’re even angry at people who give a damn about you.”

My eyes instinctively moved toward the door. Gabrielle was still there. I could see the edge of her body through the opening.

I looked away. “That’s enough.”

“No, it isn’t.” His voice hardened again. “Because this is why you keep getting limited, Alvarez. This attitude. This temper. This childish obsession with proving that nobody can tell you what to do. You’re good at what you do. Very good.” He paused on an inhale. “But you’ll never be where you could be if you keep letting this shit control you. You’ll never soar as high as you could because every time you get close, you find some way to sabotage yourself.”

Coach stood, blowing out a breath.  “I can’t make you care more than you already do, Alvarez. I can’t make you respect the game if you don’t respect yourself. And I sure as hell can’t keep protecting you from the consequences of your own choices.”

My fingers curled against my palms. “I never asked for your protection.”

Coach paused, a corner of his mouth lifting into a grim smile, as if he was literally forcing himself to stay calm. “Get cleaned up. Get that eye looked at again if it changes. Take whatever medication the doctor prescribed. And Alvarez?”

“Yes, Coach?” I looked up.

“You’re out for the next three games. You’ll be watching from the bench, and if you fuck up again, you’ll be done for the season.”

My heart sank into my stomach. I opened my mouth, ready to start pleading my case, but he was already storming off.

The door swung shut behind him.

Silence stretched taut in the locker room, the air growing thick and suffocating. 

My teammates exchanged glances.

I didn’t want their pity. I didn’t need it.

“Can everyone just fucking leave?”

Nobody argued.

One by one, they disappeared through the other door until the locker room was finally quiet.

Almost.

Because I could still feel her standing there.

Gabrielle.

I stood. Pain immediately tore through my ribs. I sucked in a breath and grabbed my jacket from the bench and shoved one arm into the sleeve.

“Kayden,” she whispered my name.

My lips wobbled. 

She was the last person I wanted to see at the moment, and talking to her would even be worse. Because her presence had a way of forcing me to approach myself and I couldn’t afford that luxury.

So I ignored her.

“There’s no need for you to continue to be stubborn, Kayden. Let’s just go back to the hotel.”

My eyes met hers and she froze. There was something in her expression that made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with my ribs.

Concern.

Again.

Always concern.

Always that fucking look.

As though she could see through me.

As though she cared.

“Please,” she said softly. “Just come back with me.”

A part of me wanted to. I wanted to go back with her. I wanted her to fuss over me. I wanted to lie in that stupid penthouse and feel her arms around me again. I wanted to pretend last night had meant something.

But wanting her had become too painful. Because I didn’t know if she wanted me or if she simply felt responsible for me.

And I couldn’t survive another moment of trying to figure it out.

So I did what I knew how to do best—shut myself out from the world.

“Just leave me the fuck alone for once, Gabrielle.”