Chapter seven

Hunter

"I was open, why the hell didn't you pass to me?" I bit out for what had to be the millionth time.

It didn't take a genius to realise what was happening, but I was annoyed to admit it had taken me a while to pinpoint the problem. But then again, it had never occurred to me that the team would be petty enough to risk their championship over a stupid sense of loyalty to Neal Matthews.

Who by the way, deserved to be banned from ever touching a hockey stick again.

The bastard had landed two fans in the emergency unit. He was a lose cannon by the look of things. It was only through the managing board's influence and a lot of money paid under the table that Neal wasn't sitting his erratic ass behind bars.

Back to the present, it seemed my new teammates had decided to test my patience by acting like I was invincible. They had done their best to make sure I didn't come in contact with the puck since practice began hours ago.

Rather than make a pass to me, they shot the puck wide.

I'd have applauded their dedication if it wasn't directly affecting me. Sammy skated toward me with a smug smirk, then carefully made his way around Mr and shot the puck into the net. He let out a deep groan as the puck bounced against the post then went wide.

"Damn it, I thought i totally had that one." Sammy whined.

Narrowing my eyes, I waited for the play to begin again. If they were hellbent on being assholes, then it was time to be an even bigger one. The whistle blew and one of them grabbed the puck and began to skate forward. He swung his stick, passing the puck sideways.

I pushed forward, faster than any of them had expected and grabbed the puck before any of the others could get it. Puck secured, I moved lightning fast, slipping through the guys on the ice until I was a feet away from the net.

Then I glanced up, making sure to meet Travis' gaze before swinging my stick and shooting the puck across the ice in the wrong direction. Just one wide shot for the purpose of eliciting a reaction, and the best part? It worked.

"What the hell?" Sammy snapped.

"What's your problem?" Travis skated forward, "The net was right there. What sort of game are you playing?"

Instead of responding immediately, I took my sweet time taking off my helmet. "Game? I'm not the one playing games, captain."

"Excuse me?"

I shrugged. "If you cared about this team at all, you wouldn't have them enforcing your silly dislike for me. But I guess you'd rather watch the team crash and burn than_"

"I don't dislike you." He cut in. "And I'm not making them do anything. Maybe if you hadn't been such an asshole and picked a fight with one of the guys on your very first day, they wouldn't be treating you like shit right now."

I opened my mouth to respond, but coach Warren's voice cut through the ice, sharper than a blade. "Moore, Hunter, my office. Now!"

Travis shot me a glare like it was somehow my fault before hurrying off the ice. I made to follow, but Sammy stepped up in front of me.

"If you get Travis in trouble, I'll make you regret the day you ever touched a hockey stick." He snarled.

I let my mouth curve. "Your loyalty is adorable, Sammy. You'd make a great body guard if hockey doesn't work out for you."

Pushing past him, I made my way off the ice, quickly taking off my skates.

Coach Warren was standing by his massive windows, a frown on his face as I stepped into the office. Travis sat on one of the chairs facing his desk, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and I took the other one.

"What is going on out there on my ice, boys?" The coach's voice was calm enough, but there was no denying the steel underneath his tone. "Let me tell you exactly what I'm seeing. I'm seeing a broken team, and that's not what I should be seeing a week away from the second game of this season."

"We're still trying to get familiar with the new changes to the team." Travis said.

"It doesn't look like you're 'trying'. In fact, it looks to me like none of you out there give a damn about winning." He snapped, stepping forward. "Now, I don't care about your personal differences. I don't care if your hearts are broken from Matthew's absence and all of that shit. What I do care about is winning, and I need you to be on the same page."

His gaze swung over to me. "And you, don't let me regret giving you this chance. If you end up being a cancer on this team, I won't hesitate to cut you out before you bring all of us down."

I swallowed. "Yes sir."

"Now," he tapped his thumb in a rhythmic move against the wooden table. "Get your ass back on that ice, and stop fucking around."

From the stubborn set of Travis' jaw, I knew he didn't plan on suddenly making things easier for me. Maybe he could afford to mess this all up, but I couldn't. I had no million dollar inheritance to fall back on if shit went sideways for me.

"Travis, wait up." I called, but he only increased his pace, practically jogging away from me.

I raked my hands through my hair and muttered a curse under my breath.

"You know what I think?" I called out, voice loud enough to echo around the rink. Travis stopped in his tracks, but he wasn't the only one whose attention I had gotten. The entire team was looking at me. "I think you're too afraid to actually play with me."

Slowly, the dark haired man turned around. "I'm not scared to play with you."

I scoffed. "Yeah, you are. And I don't blame you. Deep down, you know that I'm a great player_"

"How do you get past the door with that massive ego?"

I had never understood the concept of trying to downplay your abilities just to look humble. Ego or not, it didn't change the fact that I was here because I was one of the best.

"You're scared that if you give me the chance, I'll be a better fit than Matthews, and the team leadership will never let him come back." I said.

"That's not it." He insisted.

I spread my arms. "The only thing that matters is getting that championship. Now, we can either do this together or we can continue being little bitches and forget about that cup. I don't know about you guys, but I like winning. So, get over yourself, lace up, and let's do this."

On the heel of my statement was silence. I held my breath as I watched Travis. He was a damn fortress, every emotion carefully hidden behind a steel wall, so I couldn't tell what he was thinking at all.

Finally, Travis grabbed his stick. “One practice,” he said coldly.

“What?”

“You get one practice. One. You screw it up and we’re done.”

I smiled. “Deal.”

“And wipe that grin off your face.”

“Can’t. It’s genetic.”