4. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Viktor

My spotlight-stealing performance was the talk of campus for weeks after we won the Frozen Four championship. People who are normally afraid of me smiled and uttered congratulations. Some were even brazen enough to ask for fist bumps.

"Better get it in gear Novy. You don't want to be late your first day back," Connor says.

He's back in captain mode.

Pulling my sweatshirt over my head, I take a second to readjust my pelvic protector, then reach for my goalie pants. "Wonder who our new assistant coach will be."

Connor runs some clear tape over his socks and shin guards. "Heard the university took care of it this time. No parental input."

Jackson flinches.

It's not his fault his dad recommended some homophobe piece of shit. But those sharks were well fed, so at least something came out winning.

Being my friend is still sensitive over what happened, I keep my mouth shut. For once. Only because Eli read me the riot act for sending a shark bait meme in the group chat.

"Think he knows the drill?" I pull on my chest protector, velcroing the straps snugly. "You know, about keeping out of our business."

"Coach Nieminen will make sure this new dick will get with the program." Zach smirks as he tightens his laces.

Speaking of Satan, Coach Nieminen strides into the locker room. "Asses on the ice in four minutes or else."

I give a salute, then blow him a kiss. His fingers tighten around the clipboard in his hand and I'm sure he'd love to smash the thing over my head. But I know the truth—he'll miss me when I graduate.

Though he can always watch me on TV since the Islanders are still interested in signing me.

Once I'm ready, the four of us make our way out to the rink. I've missed the familiar chill of the ice as it permeates the air. Jackson and I talk as we skate to the bench when Zach bumps my shoulder.

"This season should be fun for you." He juts his chin toward Coach Nieminen and . . .

No fucking way.

Jackson eyes Zach. "Who's he?"

"The guy Novy was trying to fuck at the gala."

I don't miss the way he says trying , because for the rest of the night the guy from the bar evaded me.

Me.

The one with the best stalking skills of all time. There's a reason I'm the go to when it comes to intel. But this asshole made me all gloomy instead of the ray of psychotic sunshine I normally am.

Payback's a bitch and I'm here to collect.

I pull off my helmet and flip back my blonde waves. "Long time no see, hot stuff."

If looks could kill, I'd be vaporized right now.

"Hope you have extra Motrin on you. He's a handful." Coach Nieminen pins me with a glare next. "Novotny, keep the antics to a minimum this season. We've got a title to defend."

"Oh, I'm definitely worth the headaches I cause." I smile extra wide, then wink at our new assistant coach.

Coach Nieminen pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head while Kyle Rinne, my goalie coach, places a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter. But the way his shoulders shake, it's obvious. Love the guy. He puts up with me without complaining.

Mostly.

Seems only when I talk excessively does he ever groan, but that has to do with his kid. Met the boy once, and let me tell you, he can outtalk me ten times over.

"This is Beckett Harper, our new assistant coach, formally with Tampa Bay." Nieminen turns to face Walsh. "He's been caught up on all the team's history."

Connor nods.

Of course Nieminen lets Beckett run practice today, as if it's some sort of audition. And this fucker grinds us into the ice. Even makes me participate instead of working with Rinne.

I thought I was in shape. Wrong. I can't catch my damn breath. There's so much sweat in my gear, it's as if I jumped into a lake.

Beckett Harper has once again turned me gloomy. But my smile returns when he blows a long whistle that signals the end of practice.

"Thanks for the workout, Becks."

"It's Coach Harper."

Oh, this is going to be fun. He doesn't realize it yet, but he's already mine. I've decided I want him, and I'll make sure I consume his every thought—during practice, in the locker room, even in his dreams.

I flash a mischievous grin, letting my gaze slowly rake over the new assistant coach from head to toe, lingering just a bit too long to be appropriate. "Oh, and welcome to the team . . . Becks. "