George's POV
I still couldn't think straight after my conversation with Diana. I tried to not let it affect me but it was really hard to when something like this kept disturbing me.
I tightened my grip on my stick as I pushed through warmups during practice, skating harder than necessary, trying to burn the frustration out of my system before it had a chance to settle in properly.
“Keep moving, George,” Coach barked from the boards.
I didn’t answer. I picked up speed instead, cutting sharply across the ice before passing the puck cleanly to Mason during the drill rotation. The pass landed perfectly on his tape, and he fired it into the net almost immediately. Normally, that would’ve earned at least a nod. Today, Coach barely looked at me.
The whistle blew sharply a few minutes late
