6. Chapter 6

My eyelids fluttered open, surrendering to the relentless assault of morning light that spilled over me. Grabbing my head, I wished for the pounding to go away. The stale tang of last night"s choices clung to my tongue, a bitter reminder that no amount of sleep could erase the amount of alcohol I had consumed.

Light breathing had me turning, and when I spotted the beautiful, naked woman beside me, I shot up quickly.

Fuck, that was a bad idea.

With my head spinning, the memories of last night played through my mind. I had gotten drunk with a stranger, hooked up, and had somehow crashed into her bed.

Fuck me.

Slowly crawling out of bed, I quietly found my clothes littered all over her room and got dressed. I felt like a complete dick for leaving before she was awake, but I had no idea what I would say. I had never slept over at a girl"s place before. Typically, we had sex, and then I left, or if they came to my place, I would call them an Uber as they cussed me out for asking them to leave.

Sleepovers weren't my thing.

I managed to escape without waking Ashlynn. At least I remembered her name.

When I made it outside, the bright sunlight felt like an attack. The guys would give me shit for days once they saw me doing the walk of shame. However, I don't think their hazing will be worse than this hangover I'm experiencing. Finally making it back to the dorm, I rushed to my bedroom and shut the door. Thankfully, the guys weren't up yet. Maybe they wouldn't even notice that I hadn't come home last night.

I checked the time. It's a little after eight, and I smell like sex and alcohol. Not a terrible combination, but when I need to meet with my coach and show him that I'm not the major fuck up I acted like last night – well, I need a shower.

Grabbing a red Gatorade, I down the drink before stepping into the shower. I wash off all memories of last night, or at least, I try to.

Images of perfect, pouty lips, striking green eyes, and silky hair flash through my mind. Damn, Ashlynn was the hottest girl I had ever seen. Had I met her at another place, on a different date, I could see myself trying to pursue a girl like Ashlynn.

Not date.

Fuck that.

Dating leads to feelings.

Feelings lead to monogamy and saying ‘we' before making decisions.

Hell no. That's not the life I want right now.

I'm single and in college. A fucking hockey star. I don't want to be tied down until I retire.

Still, I can't stop thinking of Ashlynn. Too bad I will probably never see her again. We didn't exchange numbers, and she never mentioned whether she was a college student. Come to think of it, she didn't even know who I was. Of course, she isn't a Sunnyvale student. If she had been, she would have recognized me immediately.

Getting out of the shower, I quickly dress in running shorts and a Sunnyvale Hawks t-shirt as I grab a granola bar on my way out of my dorm. I'm glad I didn't run into the guys. They would love to hear about this shit later on.

Making my way across campus, I slow when I reach the arena. Coach Carl is going to lecture me. I can handle that. What I am truly worried about is that he will bench me or force me to leave my new goalie position and go back to my former position.

Once I get to the coach's office, I pause and take a deep breath. I need to be ready for anything. Rapping my knuckles on the weathered wood of Coach Carl"s door, I swear each thud echoes the pounding rhythm of my heartbeat. I draw in another steadying breath, trying to quell the storm of anxiety and resolve raging within me. Damn, I feel like I'm going to puke.

"Come in," called a voice from inside.

Pushing the door open, I stepped into the room—a sanctum of hockey memorabilia where legends were born and careers were defined. My gaze swept over the countless trophies and framed jerseys before it settled on the man within the space. Coach Carl had made many players into pro athletes. He spent every day of his life molding his players into the best. I was lucky to be here.

"Logan," Coach Carl said, his eyes narrowing just enough to send an unmistakable signal of disapproval. Fuck, he was really pissed.

"Coach," I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil rolling in my stomach.

"Sit down. We have a lot to discuss. I was just finishing up with my daughter," he said, motioning to the girl sitting in the chair in front of him to leave.

I moved towards a leather chair but froze mid-step as my eyes landed on another figure in the room. Ashlynn. Her fiery hair tumbled over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the pristine backdrop of this office. She sat with an air of poise that seemed out of place in the testosterone-fueled world of hockey. And then it hit me—the realization that cut deeper than any check into the boards ever could.

Fuck. No.

Did he say, daughter?

Turning to face me, Ashlynn's face showed surprise and then horror. Ashlynn sat rigidly in front of her father; her features carved from stone. Every line of her body spoke volumes, the way she held herself aloof, her eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of the office. She might as well have been a thousand miles away for all the warmth she offered both of us.

Coach Carl didn't seem to notice the train wreck happening in front of him. My heart began to thud, and my palms grew sweaty. This can't be right.

This has to be a mistake.

Ashlynn, the girl I hooked up with last and can't stop thinking about today, is my coach's daughter.

Just when I was worried Coach was going to yell at me or bench me, this bomb was dropped in my lap. Now, I need to worry that he's going to tell me to puck off and end me right now.