Face Offs & Cheap Shots (CU Hockey #2) - Eden Finley Page 0,1

are the best I’ve seen in a long time. You are both excellent captain material.”

Both?

Fucking Cohen. He just had to go and jinx me.

My jaw tightens, but I manage to keep my disagreement inside. While I was working my ass off every practice and in the gym every weekend, Beck was partying it up any chance he got. He’d turn up to mandatory weight training and practice, but he has never put in any extra effort.

“Thanks, Coach,” Beck says.

Ugh. Even in humbleness, he’s cocky.

“It can only go to one of us,” I say, somehow succeeding at keeping my voice even.

Co-captains and alternates are common in hockey, but not at CU. For as long as I’ve been here, there’s only been one captain.

“Thing is”—he holds his hands out—“between the assistant coaches and myself, we can’t decide which of you it should be. Picking a captain isn’t something we take lightly. The choice can make or break a team, and with a shitty leader, you can kiss the Frozen Four goodbye. As defending champs, we need the best.”

I already know all this. That’s why I’ve been so determined to prove to everyone that I’m what this team needs. Not some shithead D-man who thinks he’s better than everyone.

I can’t deny the guy is talented on the ice, but I was supposed to be captain next season. Me. Grant’s practically been grooming me for it since he took me under his wing freshman year.

My excitement is dead.

Please don’t take this one thing away from me.

“Because of this,” Coach continues, “we’ve decided to let the team decide.”

“What?” I shoot forward in my chair, which Beck seems to find hilarious. Team votes are technically allowed, but this is unprecedented.

“Great choice, Coach,” Beck-the-suck-up says. “The team knows what’s good for them.”

“Yeah, and it won’t be you.”

He smirks, and I scowl at the predictable response. But Beck has a right to be cocky.

Grant and I were a solid team. Grant has always been seen as an authority figure because of his hockey talent and his natural ability to charm people. If any of the team had a problem, they’d go to Grant. If any of them want weed, alcohol, or a wingman, Beck would be their guy. The team dynamic goes in his favor.

The right choice would be to pick me, but popularity doesn’t play into what’s right.

I get along with the other guys, but it’s not like I go out all the time. After games and the occasional frat party is all I allow myself. I play hard but work harder, because with my hockey scholarship, if I don’t meet the academic grades needed to keep my spot on the team, I not only can’t play hockey, I’ll get kicked out of school.

With Beck … the asshole could have the team licking his shoes and they’d ask for more. I dunno if it’s the charming smile, his carefree attitude, or the witty retorts, but everyone loves him in a way I’ve never been able to work out.

Coach laughs at the clear animosity coming off us. “Now, now, boys. You two need to work together and trust the team will make the right call.”

They will. They have to. And luckily I have the benefit of spending the summer at training camp with some of them. Cohen especially. I’ve always gotten along with him, and he’s got the ear of a lot of the other guys, so maybe if I use this summer to get him on my side, I’ll have a chance.

I’m grasping at straws here, but it’s the only thing keeping my ass planted in this seat.

“Okay.” I nod. “You’re right. The team should get a chance to choose who they wanna follow. And whichever”—me—“one of us they choose, will have a big season to follow up. So we should probably get prepared.”

“Good attitude. Now shake and wish each other luck.”

Is he serious?

I’m not about to argue when the captain position is literally his to give or take whenever he chooses. I turn to Beck and try not to sweat as his big hand folds around mine. We both squeeze a little too hard, hold a little too long, as we wait for the other to break. Beck’s full lips tremble as they hold back his trademark smile. The excitement I couldn’t shake earlier is nowhere to be found.

“Good luck,” I manage to grit out, trying to display some captainly qualities.

“Yeah you too.” His blue eyes shine. “You’re going to need it.”

Do not punch him. Do

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