The locker room smelled of sweat and liniment, the air thick with chatter after practice. Ethan sat on the bench, tugging at the laces of his skates, but his focus was shot. His mind wasn’t on the drills or the upcoming game. It was on Riley, on the words she had whispered to him last night when they parted. My father knows.
“Ethan, you got a minute?
He looked up to see Coach Warren leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. The man’s sharp eyes missed nothing.
Yeah, Coach,” Ethan said, forcing a nod. He stripped off his pads and followed him into the narrow office that smelled faintly of coffee and damp jerseys.
The coach closed the door, lowering his voice. “I’ve been hearing things. Distractions. You and Riley.”
Ethan stiffened. “Coach, I.
Don’t,” Warren cut him off. “I don’t need
