2. Kyson

two

Kyson

" S o, you got in trouble with my dad—classic," Tate smirks from the driver's seat of his black SUV, "It's been a while since someone has pissed him off so much he's dumped them on Coop to fix."

Cooper Davis, the oldest son of Coach Davis and one grumpy son of a bitch if the rumors are true, which they usually are in the hockey world. He's won every major hockey award from the moment he played in his first game as a child to when he was named the first pro hockey player to win both Rookie of the Year and Player of the Year in the same season in his rookie season to MVP in his following three seasons until his career was cut short.

His pro career was on track to dethrone the Great One until a rapid succession of concussions forced him to retire at the young age of twenty-six. Luckily, with his skill and knowledge, he also became the youngest head coach in NHL history. Now, eight years later, with his two younger brothers, Tate and Sam, as his assistant coaches, he's the head coach for the Iowa Poseidon and our new babysitter.

"It wasn't just us," I grumble, remembering how Holden goaded Bowen into an arm wrestling challenge.

Tate glances at me in the rearview mirror, "Oh, I saw the video—the whole world saw the video of the fight. The only problem is that the other three guys have Cassie Masterson as their agent. There's no way in hell she would let anything happen to her clients. Your first mistake was not hiring her." His eyes shift back to the road.

That is one of the many mistakes we've made. River, Bowen, and I all had the same agent, but we fired him before the season started, thinking we could take care of ourselves as we've always done. Now, this seems like a huge mistake.

I don't want to think about what led us here, so I ask Tate about his cousin's farm. "What's the deal with your cousin and her goat farm?"

Real smooth Kyson. I scold myself.

"It's not my story to tell, but I can say it's peaceful and beautiful on the farm. Aubree has made it her own little goat sanctuary."

I hold back a grimace, not believing anything involving a bunch of goats would be peaceful or beautiful. "Whatever you say." I turn back to the window and watch as row after row of cornfields pass us by.

The sign at the state border should have said, "Welcome to the most boring place on Earth, instead of Welcome to Iowa." Yeah, I know I sound like a snob, but there's not much to do in Iowa.

I need something that will hold my attention for longer than five minutes, and these cornfields are not doing the trick.

"I know it doesn't look like much through the car window, but if you give it a chance, I think you're really going to like living in Iowa," Tate says as if reading my mind.

Holding back a snort of disagreement, I nod at Tate as he glances at me in the rearview mirror. He's one of the assistant coaches. I can't very well disagree with him on the first day I meet him.

Besides, I know what it's like to disagree with someone in power. I've got the scars to prove it. Not wanting to dwell on the past, I nudge Bowen, who's sitting in the back seat with me, "What do you think? Should we go out and tip some cows tonight?"

Tate laughs, "It's not as easy as you would think. Cows can be mean sons of bitches when you mess with them."

I blink at Tate, shocked that he has actually gone cow-tipping.

He glances at me in the mirror again, laughing harder this time, "I wish you could see your face. No, I've never gone cow tipping before, but you can bet your ass I would be better at it than you, city boy."

Generally, if someone made fun of me like Tate was doing, I would get pissed and pick a fight, but for some reason, I don't feel like fighting.

My good mood lasts all of fifteen minutes as Tate announces our arrival at this cousin's farm.