09

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐭

"Line drills, now."

Nobody said anything back, which was smart of them honestly, cause I was not about to deal with attitude this morning on top of everything else.

My head was already pounding from two hours of sleep and a bag of gas station coffee I drank on the drive over.

I ran them hard.

Suicides, then passing at double speed, then suicides again, and by the third round half of them were bent over gasping like they'd never run a drill in their life.

Good, maybe next time they'd think twice before getting arrested the night before a real practice. Maybe not, honestly, some of these guys didn't seem like the type to learn a lesson the first time around.

Ronan looked like he wanted to say something about the pace and thought better of it.

I kept looking at the doors.

Malakai wasn't there.

Practice started at nine, it was nine-fifteen now, and fifteen minutes doesn't sound like a lot until you remember this same guy sat across from me less than twelve hours ago swearing he understood, swearing it wouldn't happen again.

He said perfectly.

He actually said the word perfectly, like it meant something, like he actually meant it when he said it.

Fifteen minutes late already, not even a full day and he was already breaking it. I blew the whistle way harder than I needed to and a couple guys actually flinched.

"Again."

Where was he?

Maybe he wasn't coming at all. Maybe last night actually meant something and he'd decided screw it, quit the team, go find somewhere else to play out his senior year. Some small stupid part of me almost hoped that was true, cause at least then I wouldn't have to deal with him.

I kept telling myself I wasn't mad about the actual fifteen minutes, that this was about discipline and the team and setting a standard or about him specifically or about last night or about any of it.

I said that to myself like four times in a row and I still didn't believe it by the fourth time. My hands were shaking a little, actually, which was stupid, cause what did I have to be nervous about, this was my rink, my team, my rules.

Cause honestly? I just wanted him here, on time and not testing me.

Pathetic, I know.

The doors slammed open.

Malakai came jogging in, bag on one shoulder, jersey half tucked, hair everywhere, looking like a guy who woke up way too late and just ran the whole way here without even stopping to look in a mirror.

Everybody stopped.

I watched him cross the ice toward us, out of breath, already talking before he even got close enough.

"Coach, I know I'm—"

"Get out."

You could've heard a pin drop. Somebody's skate scraped once and then even that stopped, like the whole rink was holding its breath waiting to see what I'd do next.

"What?"

"You heard me, get out." My voice stayed level, mostly, even though something was crawling up my throat that I did not love the feeling of. "Off the ice."

"I'm fifteen minutes late, that's literally it, I'm not—"

"I don't care if it's five minutes or fifty minutes." I walked closer, close enough that everyone could hear this part clearly, cause honestly at that point I wanted them to hear it. "Last night I stood right here and told this whole team, you included, that I expected everyone on time, no excuses. You said you understood that."

"I do understand, I just—"

"Then act like it."

"There was traffic, and my alarm didn't go off, what do you even want from me right now—"

"I want you to stop talking, cause every excuse coming out of your mouth is making this worse." I crossed my arms. "One job. Show up on time, you couldn't even do that."

"So that's it? You're just gonna bench me over fifteen minutes, seriously?"

"I'm not benching you, I'm telling you to leave right now. There's a difference, and if you keep pushing you might find out what that other thing feels like too, real soon."

He shut up.

I don't totally know why I got that mad.

It wasn't just the fifteen minutes or just him being late, or even just last night at the bar, really. Some part of it was that I expected something from him I had zero right expecting, honestly. Respect maybe, basic decency.

Strangers disrespecting me, fine, whatever, that's the job. Rival coaches, parents who think they know better, whoever. I could take that all day, been taking it my whole career honestly.

This felt different and I hated that it did.

This job actually mattered to me. It wasn't some gap year thing before I figured my life out, wasn't a placeholder. This was my shot at actually getting out from under debt I'd been carrying basically my whole adult life, at building something real instead of stitching together part time coaching gigs forever.

I didn't have parents who could just ship me off somewhere new, the second things got hard, not like Alister's did when he bailed on school here.

His mom and dad just handed him a plane ticket and a fresh start like it was nothing, like that's just what you do when your kid gets uncomfortable.

My parents weren't rich but they weren't broke either, they just weren't gonna bail me out if this fell apart.

Nobody was.

Everything I had I built myself, worked twice as hard as anyone on this ice, double shifts on top of school, loans I was still paying off, telling myself for years it would all be worth it eventually, even some nights I still wasn't sure it would be.

And I was not gonna watch some twenty-one year old with a pretty face throw it away because showing up on time felt like luxury to him.

"Can we talk after practice?" His voice dropped, quieter, less of an attitude in it now, sounding almost like the guy from the police station bench last night instead of the one who'd been smirking at me across this same ice yesterday.

"There's nothing to talk about. You're off this ice today."

"Beckett—"

"Coach." I said it fast and sharp enough that it landed. "And I already told you, I don't want you near this rink till I say otherwise."

A few guys shifted around, not looking at each other, not looking at me either. Ronan opened his mouth like he was gonna say something.

"Don't," I said before he got a word out. "Anybody defending him can walk out with him."

That killed it fast.

Malakai just stood there looking at me and something changed in his face. That smug little smirk he always had, gone, completely gone.

What was there instead looked a lot more like actual anger, not the playful kind either, nothing like the guy who'd been teasing me across this ice less than a day ago.

He mouthed one word at me. “Fine.”

Then he grabbed his bag and walked off without looking back once, closing the doors behind him.

I stood there staring at nothing for a second before I remembered twenty other guys were still standing there waiting on me, all of them suddenly very interested in their own skates.

"Back to practice."