Hello, Captain

TRISTAN

Three weeks had passed since that shitshow of a game and I owed it to myself to be even more prepared this time.

That was why I had clips of Hunter Beaumont queued up on my phone—every last game from last season where that fucker had dominated the ice.

I watched him glide through defenders like they were simply traffic cones, his effortlessness when he set up plays.

The loops through his highlights made my jaw fucking ache from being clenched so tightly.

Fucking asshole.

God, I hated how smug he was, especially after a goal. The bastard would take off his helmet and shake his hair out as if he was some fucking hockey model.

Then he’d do his signature wink at the camera, flashing those sets of white teeth. Maybe if I punched him enough next time to make him bleed all over them, they would be less perfect.

Self-absorbed idiotic asshole.

My own teeth gritted as I rewound the clip again.

There had to be something I was missing.

“—and obviously Jenna thinks Tyler is going to ask her, but I told her Tyler has been making eyes at Bri for literally two months, so—”

Evie’s voice cut through the edge of my awareness and I glanced at her.

I wasn’t sure what she said exactly, probably something about this year’s prom so I just nodded at what I hoped was the right moment and returned my attention to my phone.

The footage showed Beaumont at center ice, swinging the puck into the net—

My phone was snatched right out of my hand.

“Hey!”

I lunged for it but the little menace jumped out of reach with that annoying little-sister smirk on her face.

“Give it back, Evie.” I snapped.

But she ignored me, looking at my phone’s screen. “Oh my god,” She cheesed. “You’re totalllly obsessed with this idiot, Tris.”

Heat rushed up to my neck, followed by a defiant stab of irritation.

“I’m not obsessed with Beaumont, Evie. I fucking hate him.” I tried to grab my phone again but she hid it behind her. “Give it back.”

“Nope.” She shook her head, moving all around to keep me from my phone. “You’ve had this on repeat for days now. Even I don’t watch my crush’s videos this many times.”

“That’s because I don’t have crushes, Evie. Never have and never will. Especially not on that asshole!”

Her smirk only grew. “I never said you had a crush on him, brother. I—”

“I only watch his videos to learn how to beat him this year,” I cut her off, frustration boiling over deep inside me. “You know how important this is to me. I can’t…I can’t lose again, Evie.”

“Oh.”

The cheeky smile dropped from her face instantly. She froze mid-step and I looked away from her, up at the sky.

The morning sun shone through the light clouds, nearly blinding me so I returned my gaze to her.

I met her staring at me and her dark eyes were slowly filling up. “I’m sorry,”

And quietly, she asked. “Does it still hurt?’

Instantly, the question kicked the lid off the memories I tried to bury into a box. For a second the sting of the belt buckle flared across my back.

I automatically rolled my shoulders as if to shrug the pain off.

This last time had been worse than usual but honestly, I welcomed it.

I deserved every single bit of pain after how I'd reacted to Hunter Beaumont that day.

Even though the punishment was for my shitty game, I welcomed it as penance for my disgusting sin.

The taste of blood filled my mouth as I recalled the cold tip of a pistol pressed against my forehead.

Dad had always enjoyed the fear before he punished me.

Clenching and unclenching my fists, I finally schooled my expression. “It’s all good, sis. Don’t worry about me."

She didn’t look convinced, but she knew when to drop things. Falling into step beside me, an oppressive silence filled the air between us until we reached the end of the block and the familiar gates came into view.

I hated that we had to walk to school, but dad seized my truck keys until I “proved myself.”

As students milled around us, Evie closed the distance between us and wrapped both arms around my ribs.

Her chin dug into my collarbone and I awkwardly patted her head.

“Promise me you’ll be careful on the ice, Tris.” She whispered into my sweatshirt. “No more stupid fights.”

“I promise.” The careful part. Not the fight parts. But she didn’t have to know that.

Squeezing me, she pulled back and shoved my phone into my chest, before angling off toward the school building.

I watched her go for a moment, then turned and made my way straight to the rink.

First day of the new term, and the ice was calling out for me.

As captain, it was my job to set the tone for the next few months of hockey, get my boys fired up and hopefully start a better season than the disaster we left behind last time.

Since it wasn’t a new school session, I wasn’t really expecting any new students for rookie tryouts, but you never know.

Some freshmen could be motivated by our shitty play last year and decide to join the loser squad.

But before I could reach the locker rooms, a familiar stern voice called out my name.

“My office. Now.” He said and marched off without even confirming I followed him.

Coach could be such an authoritarian sometimes.

I followed him inside anyway, dropping into the chair across from his desk.

He hated if anyone stood in his office and he’d also never invite you to take a seat.

In his words, a man should know how to command a room and take what he wants. That sentiment bled onto the ice as well.

Wrinkling my nose at the stale smell, I watched Coach lean back in his own chair.

He was glaring at me, I soon realized.

A part of me—the small scared little boy who tried out for hockey years ago wanted to crawl under the desk and hide.

But I really wasn’t that kid anymore.

Yes I played like shit last year. But this year will be different.

I met his gaze head on, clenching my jaw until he finally looked away, losing the small battle.

Then he launched right into it.

When he was done breaking down just how useless we all were last season, undeserving to be on his ice, Coach took a sip out of his probably cold coffee.

Compared to my father actually, Coach wasn’t that bad. His words could have as well been praises sung into my ears.

I'd apologize and promise to do better, but he'd hate that. So I just kept my mouth shut, staring at the row of trophies on his shelf.

“This is your last year at Raven Hill, Reeves.” He broke the silence between us after emptying his mug. “If you keep this up, not even a ten-page recommendation from me will make any reputable hockey college look at you. You'll be stuck in this town, bar hopping and reliving your hockey past through new recruits. Is that the future you want?”

A lump formed in my throat and I bit into my cheek until copper filled my mouth.

That image he just created of my alternate future seared into my memory and it sent shivers of terror wracking down my spine.

“You alright, kid?”

I clenched my jaw, but nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Good.” He said. For a brief second, he looked really uncomfortable. Then he sighed.. “Listen, Reeves. I raised a pack of fucking wolves, not pussy cats. You all just need to get your shit together.”

I nodded again and soon after, I stood up, ready to head to the locker room when his voice stopped me at the door.

“One more thing Reeves.”

“Yes sir?” I turned back, hand still on the knob.

“We’ve got an unusual addition to the team this year.” He gruffed and I arched my brow. “He’s not a rookie freshman. In fact, he’s a senior—just like you. But he’s transferring in for his last year and he’s good enough that he might be playing first or second line.”

My stomach dropped straight to the floor instantly. A last year transfer student jumping straight onto first line? How the hell?

I racked my brain, thinking of who it could be. Some hotshot from out of state?

But why would a hotshot hockey player from out of state join our school though?

I loved Raven Hill, but it was a shitty public school where students fought more than they learned.

Also, the thought of some arrogant new guy coming in and messing with my team’s chemistry pissed me off instantly.

I opened my mouth to fire these questions at coach, but the door knob turned just then.

“Reeves, your new teammate.” Coach gestured behind me.

Frowning, I slowly glanced over my shoulder and the world stopped as familiar bright blue eyes met mine.

Hunter Fucking Beaumont?

He stretched a hand towards me, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Hello, Captain.”