Kayden
Coach Reddick shut the office door behind us as we walked into his office, the sound echoing through the walls like a warning shot. The room was bigger than I expected, lined with filing cabinets, frad Avalanche championship photos, and trophies.
The air felt a bit warm and too full of Rhys’s scent, which made my pulse jump no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
Coach Reddick walked to his chair and crossed his arms. "Alright," he said, looking between us. "Why the hell were you two shouting on the ice?"
Rhys didn’t even wait. He stepped forward and pointed toward . "Because he isn’t taking this seriously, Coach. I don’t have patience for players who don’t co prepared, who don’t show up on ti, and who play like they are doing us a favor by being here. We are weeks away from playoffs. Weeks! And I am not babysitting soone who can’t handle basic discipline!"
My chest tightened as the words hit harder than they should have. "That’s not a fair thing to say to ," I said, trying to keep my voice steady even though I felt heat crawling up my neck. "I was stuck in traffic. I already told you that. My hotel is far from the arena and..."
"So fix it," Rhys snapped. "You are a professional, aren’t you? Or did you get traded here because the Falcons finally got tired of covering up for your lazy ass?"
My breath stopped for a second and anger burned hot in my stomach. I clenched my fists tightly and spoke through gritted teeth. "You don’t know anything about ," I said. "You don’t get to judge when we’ve only known each other for two days."
"I don’t need more than two days," Rhys shot back, his eyes flaring up with annoyance. "I can see what kind of player you already are. Too soft on the ice, not focused—you are not what an Alpha on this team is supposed to look like."
The word "soft" hit like a punch. It was a direct blow, as if he could see right through my facade.
My throat tightened, and I clenched my hands before I could react too visibly. "Stop saying things that you don’t know about !" I yelled at him.
Coach slamd his hand on the desk. "Enough," he barked. "Both of you, shut it."
Rhys pressed his lips together but didn’t look away from . I didn’t look away either. The tension between us felt like a wire pulled tight enough to snap.
Coach Reddick exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already exhausted by both of us. "This team does not have ti for ego battles or whatever the hell this is," he said. "We have playoffs coming up. We have pressure from managent. And I have to make sure the two of you can stand on the sa sheet of ice without exploding."
"I’m doing my part," Rhys said stiffly.
"Are you?" Coach fired back. "Because all I heard was yelling."
Rhys tried to say sothing but shut his mouth.
Coach turned to . "And why the hell are you still living in a hotel? I thought it was closer? Also, you do know we have team housing, right?"
"I know," I said. "The housing manager said everything was full because the rookies ca earlier in the season. The hotel is a bit far, but I’m house hunting at the mont."
Coach Reddick sighed deeply. "This is exactly why communication matters. You can’t play well if you’re spending half your morning stuck in traffic or living out of a suitcase. You need sowhere stable and sowhere close."
Rhys’s voice was clipped as he spoke. "Then find him a place."
"I did," Coach said. "But it’s not ideal."
I frowned. "And what does that an?"
Coach looked at , then at Rhys, and then said the worst possible thing he could have said: "It ans you two are going to live together."
"What? No." Rhys stepped forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Coach, absolutely not. He is not—there has to be another option because there is no way I am staying with this kid!"
"There isn’t," Coach Reddick said flatly. "All spare rooms are under renovation. The team apartnts are full. Unless Kayden wants to commute two hours every morning and show up late again—and unless you want to spend every practice tearing into him—this is the only solution."
I swallowed hard and rubbed a hand over my face. Live with Rhys Calder in his house? Around his overwhelming scent? It felt impossible, like a dream that was too good to be true.
"This is a terrible idea," Rhys stated, placing his hand on the coach’s desk. "There is no way I’m allowing him into my house!"
"No," Coach Reddick said. "What’s terrible is the fact that you two already hate each other, and I need you playing on the sa line. I need chemistry and trust, and right now you have none, which could affect the team. Which is why this is the only solution."
Rhys glared at him, then at . "I don’t need to live with him to play with him."
"Yes, you do," Coach said, matching his stare without flinching. "Because if you can’t even talk to each other without throwing insults, you’re never going to understand each other on the ice. And without that, the Avalanche is dead before playoffs even begin. Look... Rhys, you have a big place. You live ten minutes from the arena. And you’re the captain. If you want this team to win—and I know you do—you’re going to make this work. Try to help him adjust to the new team."
Rhys looked at , his eyes cold and showing a bit of reluctance. I slled his scent sharpening with irritation.
"And you," Coach Reddick said, turning to , "you need to show you’re serious about being here. That ans fixing your living situation. That ans showing up on ti. And that ans dealing with Calder whether you like him or not. I want both of you to work together as a team and help the Avalanche."
My pulse hamred in my chest, but I couldn’t argue, not when the coach was right.
Rhys finally spoke, his voice low and begrudging. "Fine. But if he slows this team down, I’m not going to pretend I don’t see it."
"And if you insult again," I muttered before I could stop myself, "I’ll actually say sothing back next ti."
Rhys’s brows lifted, like he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or impressed, but before either of us could speak, Coach waved us both out.
"Good. Now go ho, Together. And figure it out. Because the Avalanche does not have ti for your drama."
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