MACHINE'S BUSTED
1495 Words
CHAPTER 2
Hannah~
“Good thing I’m not here for a girls’ team. Sign me up.”
For three solid seconds, the entire lobby goes dead quiet. Then the coach lets out a sharp bark of laughter, the kind that says he figures I have to be joking. A couple of the guys nearby join in with low chuckles, and someone mutters, “No way,” under their breath.
The coach rests his clipboard against his hip, sighing as he looks me over. “Look, sweetheart, I appreciate the confidence, but this is the men’s team.”
“I know,” I say evenly.
He frowns, clearly not appreciating the sarcasm. His tone softens a fraction, like he’s trying to let me down easy. “This isn’t about offending you. The league we’re competing in is a men’s league. There aren’t any female players. There never have been.”
I blink at him. “…Okay?”
He just stares. I stare right back. “…Okay?” I repeat.
A few of the players trade confused glances. The coach rubs his forehead, looking like he’s already regretting this conversation. “I don’t think you’re understanding.”
“No,” I admit, keeping my voice honest. “I’m not.”
He seems almost relieved to have something straightforward to explain. “Women’s hockey exists. Men’s hockey exists. They’re separate leagues.”
“So?”
He gestures helplessly around the bustling rink. “In simple context, it means women don’t play here.”
I frown, genuinely trying to follow. “…Because of what?”
The silence stretches longer this time. Inside my head, my wolf picks the absolute worst moment to chime in. Are humans… broken?
Shut up.
No, seriously.
Shut up.
The coach blinks several times, clearly thrown by my question. “…Because they’re women.”
I wait for more. He waits too. But nothing comes.
“So? What if they’re women, what difference does it make?” I press, feeling confused because seriously it isn’t making any sense to me.
Someone behind me snorts as another player whispers, “Is she messing with him?”
“I don’t understand,” I say, still keeping it real. The coach looks one more question away from throwing his hands up and walking off.
“It’s physical stuff, girl,” he says carefully.
“And?”
“The hits. The strength. The speed. The contact.”
“I’ve been hit before. I have the strength. I can run. I don’t mind contact.”
His eyebrows keep climbing with every answer I give. “No offense, but men are generally stronger.”
I shrug, keeping my posture relaxed. “Then if they’re stronger, they shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
A few players laugh despite themselves. One even coughs to cover it up. The coach points his clipboard straight at me. “This isn’t a debate.”
“I’m not debating,” I reply. “I’m asking questions.”
His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “You can’t just walk in and expect the rules to change.”
My smile fades as I fold my arms across my chest. Back home, no one cares if the wolf beside you is male or female. Could you fight? Could you hunt? Could you protect the pack? That is all that matters. Human rules feel… weird. Limiting in a way that settles heavy in my chest.
“So if I can do everything the men can do… why not?”
He sighs deeply. “It isn’t that simple.”
“Why?”
“Because people don’t accept it.”
“…Why again?”
More laughter ripples through the guys—this time aimed at the coach’s growing frustration. His shoulders slump. “I didn’t make the rules.”
“No,” I say quietly, nodding as the weight of it sinks in. “I guess you didn’t.”
For the first time in thirty days, running away from home doesn’t feel brave anymore. It feels lonely. I glance toward the exit, wondering if I should just cut my losses, find another dead-end job, and keep washing dishes. At least plates don’t judge me for being female.
Absolutely not. My wolf’s growl echoes strong and clear. You didn’t survive an Alpha’s training just to be defeated by a bunch of humans in matching hoodies.
They’re following their rules.
Stupid rules.
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitches.
The coach notices. “Tell you what,” he says after a beat, hesitation clear in his stance. “If you’re willing… I can’t promise anything, but if you insist on proving your point, I’ll let you complete the physical testing.”
Hope sparks again inside me at once, small but real. “I’ll take maybe.”
He gives a reluctant nod and hands me a clipboard. “Fill this out while I get the strength station ready.”
I take it and start scribbling my name and age, but freeze on the emergency contact line. Definitely not Dad. Definitely not Alex. I leave it blank.
The lobby doors slide open with a rush of cold air. Conversations die instantly and every player nearby straightens up, which leaves me in confusion.
Someone whispers, “Captain Colton’s here.”
I look up. A tall guy steps inside wearing a navy team hoodie, hood pushed back. Dark hair, broad shoulders, and long, confident strides that make it clear he owns whatever space he enters.
His sharp gray eyes sweep the room once before landing on the coach. “Morning.”
They shake hands quickly. The coach leans in, speaking low as Colton listens, his expression neutral at first. Then his gaze shifts right to me.
The coach points me out. His eyes linger, curiously measuring, not mocking or impressed. Just sizing up the girl with messy brown hair, worn trainers, and a stolen loaf of Italian bread still tucked awkwardly under one arm.
Heat creeps up my neck. I discreetly shift the bread behind my leg. Good thinking, my wolf says.
Shut up. I bark at it.
Colton’s brow draws together slightly as he listens to the rest. Then he looks back at the coach. “What did she say?”
The coach rubs the back of his neck. “She wants a chance.”
Colton studies me again, really looks this time like he’s asking himself one simple question: Can she actually do it? I hold his gaze without flinching.
The first station is a weighted sled. One recruit has just finished and bends over gasping for breath.
The coach waves me forward then. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I plant my feet without wasting time, grip the handles, and push. The sled shoots forward hard, way too hard. The machine beeps wildly, numbers climbing past everyone else’s scores and into ridiculous territory.
Silence falls over the room.
“…Was it supposed to do that?” someone stutters.
The coach walks over, leans in close to the screen, then looks back at me. “Do it again. Exactly the same.”
I hold back more this time and do it again, but the result is still way ahead.
Murmurs spread. “No way.” “I think the machine’s busted.”
The blond recruit wanders over to inspect it himself.
The coach scratches his neck, then glances toward Colton across the room. Colton hasn’t moved. He just gives a single nod. Continue.
“Alright,” the coach says, writing on his clipboard with visible hesitation. “Strength… checks out.”
A ripple of disbelief moves through the recruits as I wait for the next drill. The whole atmosphere shifts.
No one is laughing at me being a girl anymore. They are whispering because they can’t explain what they’ve just seen.
A shorter recruit wanders over with a water bottle. “I’m Ethan.”
“Hannah.”
“You really never played organized hockey?”
“No. College? No. Private coach?”
I shake my head. “I watched games on television.”
He blinks, then bursts out laughing. “I officially don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Another guy joins in just then. “So why hockey?”
“It pays,” I say simply. “I got fired from washing dishes today.”
“What’d you do?”
“Broke three plates. I may have accidentally intimidated my boss.”
“…Accidentally?”
“Mostly accidentally.” I say as I turn to face the other side and somehow my gaze moves and lands on Colton. Our gazes lock on each other.
He’s watching us. My wolf chuckles. Strangely, she has picked interest in him, which is unlike her.
I noticed.
He’s handsome. She purrs.
I know.
Very handsome. She emphasizes clearly like she wants the words to get stuck in my head.
Indeed I know.
Maybe you should stop knowing. She hisses.
Not a chance. I reply as I roll my eyes
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