Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“You happy now, Grace? I’m off the ice thanks to you!” Madden shouts as we enter.
“You’re the one trying to play defense!” Grace snaps back.
“Enough!” Roman roars. “The two of you are fucking the season for us. Deal with your shit! I don’t care what the hell happened with your damn sandwich when you were at the Hockey Academy. Get the fuck over it!”
Grace and Madden’s heads whip in Roman’s direction, both wear mortified expressions.
Madden points at Stiles and Bright. “Which one of you said something?”
Bright raises his hand. “But I—”
“What the fuck happened to bro code?” Madden rages.
“I didn’t—” Bright tries to defend himself.
“Get the fuck over it, Madden! So I fucked your sandwich. Big fucking deal. It was two slices of bread and a couple of slices of ham. All you had to do was throw it out. You’re the one who fucked my damn shirt!”
“I cannot be hearing this right.” Who fucks a t-shirt or a food item? These two, apparently.
The team seems to be frozen in shock.
Except Bright and Stiles. They don’t look the least bit surprised.
“Everyone but Madden, Grace, Stiles, Bright, and Hammerstein get out,” Vander Zee bellows.
Vander Zee crosses his arms. He waits until the locker room is empty before he speaks again. His voice is quiet, but it wavers with barely contained rage. “Explain yourselves.”
Grace and Madden glare at each other.
“I fucked Madden’s sandwich at the Hockey Academy.”
“Finally! You fucking admit it!” Madden fires him the bird.
“But only after you jizzed on my last clean shirt.”
Coach Thomas coughs into his elbow. Coach Boxer does the same. Stiles rubs the back of his head, and Bright rubs his mouth to hide a smile. Roman bites into his apple with a loud crack.
I give him a look.
He licks his thumb.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Vander Zee asks.
Roman and I both look quickly back to him. But of course, he’s talking to Madden and Grace.
“We were living in Pearl Lake,” Bright explains. “It was a small town, and half the population was the coaches’ kids. We were a bunch of walking hormones with nowhere to blow off steam. Bread is a lot softer than our hands.”
“Are you seriously fucking defending him?” Madden’s voice is laced with disbelief.
Bright shrugs. “He has a point. You can throw out a sandwich. Who wants to wear a jizzy shirt?”
“Who wastes food like that?” Madden looks straight at Connor who doesn’t respond.
“Why did you take Grace’s shirt, Madden?” I ask.
Madden pokes at his cheek, which have both turned a wild shade of red. “It was an accident. I thought I had some privacy, and then I didn’t, and I reached for the first shirt I could find which happened to belong to Grace.”
Grace makes a sound that indicates he doesn’t buy it.
Vander Zee pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe this shit.”
“I’d be pretty pissed if someone fucked my sandwich,” Stiles offers, backing up his best friend.
“Shut the fuck up, Stiles.” Vander Zee looks ready to bench every player in this room.
“Thanks, man.” Madden tips his chin at Stiles.
I roll my eyes. Everything starts to line up. “Grace and Madden, apologize to each other. Now.”
They glare at each other.
“Look, I think we all know that this isn’t about fucking each other’s food or clothing items.” I shake my head. Seriously. What the hell?
They both frown in my direction.
“This is about wanting what someone else has. Madden, in your case it was Grace’s financial stability and what that can afford you. Grace, you wanted Madden’s ability to fit in wherever he goes.” I’m sure there are layers to this, but knowing what I do about both of them, this definitely tracks. I just wish it hadn’t taken this long to figure out. “The two of you have carried your anger at the seventeen-year-old versions of each other through a decade and onto this team, where it doesn’t belong. Let it go. Stop hating each other for things you can’t control or change, and apologize for being teenage idiots,” I order.
Bright claps. “That was well said.”
“It really was. I should have asked you to do that weeks ago,” Vander Zee agrees.
“I tried earlier in the season, it wasn’t the right time,” I offer. And now I wish I’d tried again before tonight.
Vander Zee turns back to the boys. “You heard Coach Forrester.”
Madden sighs.
Grace shakes his head.
Roman takes another bite of his apple.
“I’m sorry I fucked your stupid sandwich,” Grace mumbles.
Vander Zee gives him a look that would bury most men. “Try again.”
“I’m sorry I fucked your ham sandwich,” Grace grits out.
Madden looks everywhere but at Grace. “I’m sorry I jizzed on your last clean shirt.”
“Look at you two! This is some serious progress,” Bright says jovially. “It only took you a decade to sort your shit out. We should grab some beers to celebrate this milestone in your relationship.”