RYDER’S POV
The locker room smelled like sweat, damp gear, and unearned glory.
I ripped the tape off my shin guards. The harsh rrriipp was drowned out by the heavy bass thumping from the Bluetooth speaker in the centre of the room. The guys were buzzing. We’d won 4-2, securing a crucial early-season victory, and the scouts were allegedly drooling up in the VIP boxes.
I should have been celebrating. Instead, I wanted to put my fist straight through the cinderblock wall.
Across the room, Cole Kingston held court. He was leaning back against his stall with a smug, relaxed grin while two rookie defencemen hyped him up… First Star of the game, all thanks to that game-winning goal.
And he got it by picking my pocket.
I clenched my jaw and yanked off my left skate aggressively. It felt like
