“Please, hear me out.”

“I’ve heard all I need to hear from you.” Jock stood and met me eye to eye. We were about the same height and build. “Are you still seeing her?”

I staggered back a step as if I’d been physically hit by his accusation. “No. Not at all. It was only one night.”

“She swears nothing happened.”

“While I take partial blame, I’m not going to lie to you about what did or didn’t happen.”

“You’re calling the mother of my children a liar?”

I could call her a lot more than that, but I doubted insulting the woman would do anything to defuse this situation. “I didn’t know she was married. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You slept with her.” He spoke through gritted teeth, displaying a monumental effort to hold back. I understood how he felt. I couldn’t even imagine what I’d do if confronted by my wife of sixteen years sleeping with a teammate.

I glanced around the room. “Could we continue this conversation in a more private area?”

“The conversation is over.” He started to push past me, and I stumbled into him. The rest was a blur of flying fists, shouts of teammates, and arms yanking him off me as I lay on the floor.

“What the fuck?” roared Gorst from behind us. “You two. In my office—NOW!”

I wiped the blood off my split lip with a towel one of the guys handed me and headed to the gallows, a.k.a. Gorst’s office. Jock followed, but much quieter and less angry now. My last glance backward revealed Ice standing with his hands on his hips in the middle of the room. When our eyes met, his were filled with disappointment, as if he’d expected better of me. Fuck, I expected better of myself.

Jock and I took seats in the coach’s office, not looking at each other or saying a word. There was nothing to say. I hung my head, while Jock stared past us at a point on the wall.

I rubbed my throbbing jaw and avoided eye contact with Jock as we waited. One of us wouldn’t be on this team much longer, and I was guessing I was the logical choice. My week with the team hadn’t been overly impressive. I hadn’t scored a goal, I’d messed up more than I should’ve, and spent too much time in the penalty box because of my frustration. As much as I hated to admit it, the tension between Jock and me played a part in my inability to find my zone.

Gorst stomped into his office a few minutes later. He was furious, and I kept my head down, not wanting to do more than I already had to incur his wrath.

“I trusted both of you to work out your differences like adults,” he said with barely contained fury. “Instead, you’ve escalated this situation to a feud status. It stops here and now. I don’t care what the fuck happened. Deal with your personal issues away from the team, find a way to get along, or one or both of you is going to be gone—sooner rather than later.”