"Stag! Get in here!" Coach bellows to me as I limp past his office. Practice has been brutal this past week, but we're a few wins away from a Stanley Cup. This is exactly what I've trained for the last 20 years.
“Sure thing, Coach. What's up?"
“Don't give me that smug s**t, Stag. Sit down." I can tell this isn't going to be a quick chat. I sigh, because I'd hoped to head to the boat house this afternoon and see if I could stare at Juniper's ass for awhile while she helped coach the high school kids.
Coach swivels his computer monitor toward me, pulling up a video. It's last night's game against St. Louis. Squinting, I see that he's been watching me and their winger, Houser. “I fuckin' hate that guy, Coach."
He frowns. “I know you do, Stag, and so does the rest of the NHL." Houser cam
