Ruined on Ice

Chapter Four

~Maverick~

My phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.

I lay on my back in the cramped dorm room, staring at the ceiling tiles, ignoring the barrage of messages. Another buzz. I didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

Dad: What the hell were you thinking? You’re throwing your future away over some campus drama. Call me. NOW.

Dad: Coach already texted me. Suspension? Are you trying to ruin everything I built for you?

Dad: Answer your f*****g phone, Maverick.

I clenched my jaw until it hurt my muscles. Abusive f**k. The man had been tearing me down since I was old enough to hold a stick. Mom died in a car accident when I was fifteen, hit by a drunk driver on her way home from work. After that, Dad spiraled. New woman in the house within six months. New rules. New bruises when I talked back. I hadn’t been home in over a year, and I planned to keep it that way.

I tossed the phone onto my nightstand and lifted my right hand, flexing it slowly. The knuckles were swollen and split, painted ugly shades of purple and red. Getting a hit on Rory Calloway was definitely worth it. Still, the question kept circling in my head like a bad penalty kill.

Why the f**k did I do that?

I had never gone after someone that personally. Not like this. Yeah, Rory Calloway had been a thorn in my side for three seasons, flashy, dirty, always running his mouth. But last night wasn’t about hockey. It was about Taylor Jensen’s tear-streaked face when she slammed into me outside the arena. The way her voice cracked.

The door to the bathroom opened and Joshua stepped out, towel slung low around his hips, steam following him like a cloud. My roommate and fellow player grinned when he saw me still in bed.

“Hey man. You alive over there? You were a beast last night. That hit on Calloway? Legendary. Whole team’s talking about it.”

I grunted, sitting up against the headboard. “Didn’t feel legendary this morning when Coach texted me to get my ass to his office at ten.”

Joshua laughed, pulling on a hoodie. “Yeah, I bet. You broke the golden boy’s nose on rivalry night. His parents are probably losing their s**t. But seriously…….you good? You’ve been weird since before warm-ups.”

I shrugged. I didn’t feel like explaining Taylor. Not to anyone. She was a ghost from my past who had crashed back into my life at the worst possible moment. Quiet, steady Taylor Jensen. The girl who used to watch me shoot pucks from her front porch like it was the most interesting thing in the world. I had noticed her more than I should have back then. Still did, apparently.

Before I could answer, my phone rang. Not Dad this time. Coach Harlan.

I answered on the second ring. “Coach.”

“Stone. My office. Now.” Click.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Good luck, bro. Bring ice for the ass-chewing.”

I threw on sweats and a hoodie, grabbed my keys, and headed across campus to the hockey building. Snow crunched under my boots. The cold felt good against my bruised hand.

Coach’s door was already open, and he wasn’t alone. The athletic director, Mr. Hargrove, sat in the corner looking like he’d swallowed glass. Coach Harlan stood behind his desk, arms crossed, face red.

“Sit,” Coach barked.

I sat.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he exploded before my ass even hit the chair. “You cross-checked him into the boards like a goddamn animal, then dropped the gloves and broke his f*****g nose! In front of a sold-out arena and cameras! Are you out of your mind?”

I kept my mouth shut at first. Let him yell. I had certainly earned it.

“You’re our best enforcer. Top penalty killer. But that s**t last night? That wasn’t hockey. That was personal. You cost us the game and handed Northwood a possible suspension.”

“I saw the video,” I said quietly. “The one Calloway’s been sending around. Him screwing Taylor’s roommate. He humiliated her.”

Coach pinched the bridge of his nose. Hargrove sighed heavily.

“Yeah, Calloway’s a d**k. No argument there,” Coach said. “But it wasn’t your call to make, Stone. You don’t get to play vigilante on my ice.”

Hargrove leaned forward. “His parents are threatening to sue the school, the program, and you personally. They’ve got deep pockets. Alumni donors. Lawyers on speed dial. This could get ugly fast.”

I swallowed. My heart started pounding harder than it had during the fight.

Coach paced behind his desk. “We’ve been negotiating all morning. There’s only one way to kill this lawsuit and keep the program intact.”

I waited.

“You’re going to date her.”

The words hit like a slapshot to the chest.

“Ugh???! f*****g date her?!” I choked out. “What the hell do you mean by date?”

“Publicly,” Hargrove clarified. “Convincingly. You and Taylor Jensen. Linden University is just some distance from here. She wears your jersey. Make Rory Calloway look like a bitter, jealous ex. It neutralizes the narrative. Makes the whole thing look like petty rivalry instead of you assaulting their star player out of nowhere.”

I barked a laugh because what the actual f**k. “I can’t do that. We’re not friends. I barely know her. This is f*****g ridiculous.”

Coach slammed his hand on the desk. “You don’t have a choice, Stone! You broke his nose in front of everyone. The conference is watching. If his parents push this, you’re off the team. Maybe out of Northwood entirely. Is that what you want?”

My stomach dropped. Hockey was the only thing I had. The only place where the noise in my head went quiet. Without it, I was just another angry kid with a dead mom and a piece-of-s**t dad.

“Are you blackmailing me?” I asked, voice low.

Coach’s expression softened, but just barely. “You’re a good player, Maverick. One of the best I’ve coached. But you f****d up. Fix it. Find her. Talk to her. Make this look real until the heat dies down and the lawsuit threat evaporates. After that……we’ll see.”

I sat there, fists clenched on my thighs, head spinning. Taylor Jensen. The girl I used to watch from my driveway. The girl whose tears were still burned into my memory from last night. Now I was supposed to pretend to date her? Touch her. Be close to her. While she was raw and broken from the exact guy I had put in the hospital.

I stood up slowly, jaw tight.

“Stone—” Coach started.

“f**k,” I muttered, turning toward the door.

I didn’t wait for permission to leave. I walked out of the office with my head pounding and my bruised hand throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

Taylor Jensen.

This was going to be a disaster.