Traded

Beside me, Jax shifted in his sleep. His foot brushed against mine under the blanket and I jumped like I had been burned, pulling my legs to the very edge of the mattress.

"Stop moving," Jax mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "It’s about five in the morning, Simpson. Go to sleep."

"I can't," I whispered, but he was already out again.

I stayed awake until the sun began to peek through the dusty window. My head throbbed. I had to go to class. I had to go to practice. And I had to see Chloe, my girlfriend.

7:30pm

The Friday night game against State was supposed to be our comeback. The arena was packed. My father sat in the front row of the VIP section. He didn't have a smile on his face. He never did. He just sat there with his arms crossed, watching my every move.

"Simpson! Miller! Get out there!" Coach Mike barked.

I hopped over the boards and hit the ice. Jax was right behind me. We were the two best players on the team, but today, we were two strangers.

The puck dropped. I won the face off and pushed it forward. I saw Jax breaking toward the net. He was open. He had a clear shot. All I had to do was flick my wrist and pass it to him.

But I didn't.

I remembered the way he called me a Golden Boy mockingly days before . I remembered how he looked at me like I was nothing. I put my head down and tried to weave through three defenders by myself. I lost the puck in seconds. The crowd groaned.

"Pass the puck, Liam!" Toby yelled from the goal.

A few minutes later, it was Jax’s turn. He stole the puck from a State defender. He was fast, moving like lightning toward the left side. I was right there, perfectly placed in the slot.If he passed to me, it was a guaranteed goal.

Jax looked at me. For a split second, our eyes met. Then, he deliberately turned his back and tried to score from a sharp, impossible angle. The puck hit the goalie’s pads and bounced away.

State took the puck, ran down the ice, and scored.

BEEP. The scoreboard flashed: Northwood 0, State 1.

The rest of the period was a disaster. It was like we were playing two different games. I refused to look at him. He refused to acknowledge I existed. We were losing, and it was entirely our fault.

When the whistle blew for the end of the first period, the walk to the locker room felt like a march to my own funeral. The fans were quiet. My father’s eyes followed me until I vanished.

Inside, the locker room was silent. Then, the door slammed so hard a towel fell off the rack.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" Coach Mike roared.

The rest of the team scrambled. Toby gave me a worried look before he left. Carl laughed under his breath as he walked past. Finally, it was just me, Jax, and the Coach.

Coach Mike walked to the center of the room. He picked up a water bottle and threw it against the wall. It exploded, spraying water everywhere.

"What was that?" Coach asked. He looked very angry.

"That was not hockey. That was a circus."

"He won't pass," I said, pointing at Jax.

"He's a ball hog!" Jax shouted, stepping forward. "He thinks because his name is Simpson, he doesn't need a team!"

"I'm the Captain!" I yelled back. "You're supposed to follow my lead!"

"Your lead is taking us straight into the dirt!" Jax stepped into my space. "You're so scared of your own shadow that you can't even play the game anymore!"

"ENOUGH!" Coach Mike screamed. He stepped between us, shoving us apart. He looked at me, then at Jax. "I don't care about your drama. I don't care about your disagreements. I care about my team."

He pointed a finger at my chest. "Liam, you’re playing like a coward. You’re giving away your minutes to Carl, and you’re playing selfish hockey."

Then he turned to Jax. "And you, Miller. You’re talented, but you’re loose. You’d rather lose the game than help your Captain."

Coach Mike took a deep breath. He looked at the clock on the wall.

"I have a phone call to make after this game," Coach said. "There is a team in the North Division looking for a new forward. They’ve been asking about both of you."

My heart stopped. Jax went very still.

"The second period starts in five minutes," Coach Mike said, his voice cold as ice. "If I see one more play where you two don't work together. If I see one more missed pass, I am making that call. One of you is getting traded tonight. I don't care which one. Fix it, or pack your bags. You're done at Northwood."

Coach walked out and slammed the door.

I looked at Jax. For the first time, I didn't see anger in his eyes. I saw the same thing I was feeling.

Pure terror.