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Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

RYAN

“Meet you back at the house.” I salute my teammate and exit the weight room. This morning’s mandatory conditioning day was brutal. Despite how much I stay in shape through the summer, the first week of school is always rough.

I check the time and curse under my breath. Most of the guys on the team have slightly easier morning schedules. Me? I have a physics lecture across campus waiting for me. Professor Whitman is a stickler about punctuality, and the only thing he hates more than late students are hockey players. I learned that tidbit when I barely passed General Chemistry last year. He’ll permanently ban me to the sin bin if I show up late again this year.

I grab my bag and bolt from the locker room door when Coach’s voice booms into the hallway.

“Sorenson! My office. Now.”

Damn it. I wince but pivot, jogging over to his open door. “Coach, I’ve got class in?—”

“Sit. This won’t take long.” He points at the chair across from his desk.

I drop into it, leg bouncing. “What’s up?”

Coach leans back, fixing me with that piercing stare. “You might be getting an invite to the combine this spring.”

My stomach does a backflip. The combine. Holy shit. I try to keep my face neutral. “Oh, yeah?”

“Don’t play coy, kid. This could be huge for you. For the team.”

I nod, mind racing. The combine means scouts. Means a shot at the big leagues. Means…

Dad’s pained face flashes through my mind. The crutches propped by his bed. The pile of medical bills.

“Thanks, Coach,” I say, standing. “I’ll keep an open mind.”

“You’ll do more than that.” The sureness in his voice makes me stand straighter. “You put up good stats last season. People noticed. I need you to make the team proud.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” I say through the lump in my throat.

He nods, satisfied. I take that as my cue to leave. Darting out of the building, I sprint across the quad. The combine. The possibility of being picked up and playing professionally. It’s been my dream since I was a kid. But I can’t go. I’ve got responsibilities. The same ones that existed when I turned down the verbal agreement with the Maine Pine Skaters. Dad needs me, and I need a definite paycheck at the end.

There’s no guarantee Dad will win his lawsuit. If he does, the lawyer takes a considerable cut from the award.

But I can’t quite shake the spark of excitement.

The science building comes into sight when a female voice calls out my name.

“Hey, Ryan. Are you and Blake going to the annual Delta Sigma Pi party?”

The question comes from Molly, but Juliette stands there looking more interested in the answer. She’s been after Blake since our first step onto Cessna University’s campus. He wants nothing to do with her, though. I’m pretty sure that makes her chase him more.

“Uh, yeah. That’s our first home game, but we’ll be there.” I glance at my watch. “Sorry, girls, but I need to get to class.”

“Hope to see you there.” Molly gives a little finger wave. I nod and take off.

I can’t afford to get on the professor’s wrong side. Not this year. I need the grades to get into a physical therapist program. After Dad’s accident, I switched my goals to more realistic ones. Life can change entirely way too fast. I saw that firsthand. If I pursued what I wanted to become, a hockey player, who’s to say I’d be playing? One accident on the ice will have me spiraling down a path I don’t want to take.

My dad lost everything after that accident. Even Mom left. The whole “for better or for worse” only works in fairytales. Once things became rough, she split without a second glance and left me to deal with the fallout.

Besides the mandatory birthday card she sends, I have never heard from her.

She taught me a lesson, though—never trust anyone. There’s no such thing as non-conditional love.

“Hey, Ryan. Think the team has what it takes not to embarrass us?”

I find Jim, Delta Sigma Pi’s president, barreling toward me.

“Dumbass. You know we’ll perform.” Cockiness oozes from me. Everybody is on our ass to perform when the NCAA included us in their newly expanded division, but we’re ready.

“You better with the controversy it started,” Jim laughs. “You better show up to the party, too.”

“Nah, you know we’ll be there. We never miss.” I look down at the time. “Shit, I got to go!”

Without waiting for a response, I take off in a light jog.

I’m about to hit the science building when my phone buzzes. Fishing my phone from the front pocket, I glance at the screen and smile at the text from Maddy’s roommate, Amanda.

Amanda: We on for Captain’s Cup later?

Meeting for coffee during the first week of school became our tradition after we kept having multiple classes together freshman year. She’s pre-med, and I’m on track to become a physical therapist. We were in the same labs together. When I couldn’t get an experiment to work, she stayed after class to help. We’ve remained friends ever since. Amanda has this uniqueness about her that I find intriguing. She’s a good person. She works hard and doesn’t depend on daddy handouts.

But I’m not dumb. I’ve heard the rumors. The ones where they think we’ve hooked up or because we’re such good friends, they think there’s something romantic between us. That couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s a knockout, sure. Smoking hot. But she’s also like the sister I never had. There just isn’t any sexual chemistry between us.

As for her roommate… My dick twitches at the thought of driving into Maddy. That girl has always drawn my attention from the first time I noticed her in the hallways of Stewart Academy. One look at those dark, auburn curls and a sprinkle of freckles splattered across her cheeks, I was a goner.

Too bad she hates me.

Me: Of course. You free at one o’clock? I have a late class at three.

Amanda: Yes! Meet you then.

It’ll be good to catch up with my friend since we’ve barely talked over the summer, but my curiosity has been piqued. I want to know if Madison mentioned me at all. I haven’t run into her at all this week. Not sure how I’ll handle seeing her when I do.

Slipping the phone into my pocket, I scale the steps. With only a few minutes before class starts, I need to hurry. The last thing I want to do is piss off Mr. Whitman on the first day of class.

Reaching the classroom, I groan. A closed door can only mean one thing—I’m fucked.

Sucking in a breath, I walk through the doorway as if I own the damn place. I didn’t make it this far to be stopped.

“Mr. Sorenson. So glad you can make it.” Whitman’s keen gaze slices through me. “Please take a seat before you interrupt us further.”

I nod, biting the retort on my tongue, and scan the room for an empty chair. My eyes lock onto the only vacant spot next to a familiar head of wild, auburn curls.

Well, well, well. If this class sinks me, at least I’ll drown a happy man.

I work my way to the last spot and smile at the girl on my right. “Hello, Maddy.”

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