Chapter 51 Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter 51 Chapter Fifty-One
Danny POV

I woke up still in bed with Vanessa wrapped around me, adjusting myself so I didn't make her uncomfortable, I looked at her skin, rubbing my hands over her hair. 

My phone buzzed slightly and I grabbed it off the counter, silencing it. I had to get to  practice in a couple of hours and since Marco was missing I couldn't afford to miss it too.

Vanessa stirred in my arms and I laid her against the bed, kissing her gently. I penned a quick note and left it on the table. The house was quiet which meant Bean was out again, I wondered how long she and Vanessa could keep this silence game up.  

I slipped out the door, closing it behind me. 

Practice was a disaster.

There was no other word for it. We'd been running drills for two hours, and the team was falling apart like a house of cards in a windstorm.

Passes were sloppy, formations were broken, and nobody could seem to communicate without either shouting or complete radio silence.

"Booker, you're supposed to be covering the left wing!" I yelled across the ice as Jake skated past the position he was supposed to be holding.

"I am covering the left wing!" Jake shouted back.

"That's the center, you idiot!"

Dylan crashed into Ethan trying to intercept a pass that neither of them had called for, and they both went down in a tangle of limbs and hockey sticks. I skated over and hauled them both up, trying not to let my frustration show.

"You two need to communicate," I said, keeping my voice level even though I wanted to scream. 

"Call for the puck. Let each other know where you are. This is basic stuff, guys."

"It's hard to communicate when everyone's in the wrong position," Ethan muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Then get in the right position," I snapped, my patience finally breaking. 

"We have championship qualifiers in three weeks. Three weeks. And we're playing like a bunch of freshmen who've never been on the ice together before."

The team went quiet, everyone staring at me. I never lost my temper at practice. 

That wasn't my style as captain. But the pressure was getting to me, and apparently it was starting to show.

"Let's run it again," I said, softer this time. 

"From the top. And this time, talk to each other."

We reset and ran the drill again. It was marginally better, but still nowhere near where we needed to be. The problem was obvious to everyone, even if nobody wanted to say it out loud.

We were missing Marco. We were missing our team.

Marco Island had been one of our ace, the player who could read the ice like nobody else.

With him we were a well oiled machine that functioned at our prime and without him, our entire offensive strategy had fallen apart. 

We'd been trying to adjust, to redistribute his responsibilities among the other players, but it wasn't working. We had to replace Marco before the gap he'd left got too big.

Coach whistle pierced the air, and everyone stopped skating.

"That's enough," he called out.

"Hit the showers, everyone. Except you, Glover. My office. Now."

My stomach dropped. Nothing good ever came from being called to Coach's office alone.

I skated off the ice and made my way to the small office tucked behind the rink, pulling off my helmet and running a hand through my hair that was soaked with sweat. Coach was already inside, sitting behind his desk with game footage paused on his computer screen. He didn't look up when I entered.

"Close the door," he said.

I did, then stood there awkwardly, waiting for the lecture I knew was coming.

Coach finally looked up at me, and I was surprised to see that he didn't look angry. 

He looked tired. 

"Sit down, Danny," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I sat.

"I'm going to be straight with you," Coach said, leaning back in his chair. 

"We're not going to make it to championship finals playing like this."

The words hit me like a physical blow, even though I'd been thinking the same thing. Hearing it out loud from Coach made it real in a way it hadn't been before.

"We're working on it," I said.

"The team just needs more time to adjust to the new formations—"

"The team needs Marco Island," Coach interrupted bluntly. 

"You know it, I know it, they know it. Everything else is just us pretending the problem is something we can fix with more practice."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Have you seen him?" Coach asked. 

"Since he quit?"

"No," I said honestly. "I haven't heard from him at all. He's not responding to texts, and he's blocked most of the team on social media."

Coach nodded slowly, like this confirmed something he'd already suspected.

"What happened between you two, Danny? And don't give me some bullshit about 'creative differences' or 'team dynamics.' I want the truth."

I hesitated, the truth was complicated and messy. I didn't want to explain it to my coach. But Coach Bennett had been good to me for four years, and he deserved honesty.

"It was about a girl," I said finally. 

"Things got... heated. I said some things, he said some things, and it ended with him quitting the team."

"A girl," Coach repeated flatly. "We're about to lose our shot at the championship because of a jealousy fight about a girl." he muttered, his brows arched. 

"It wasn't just about a girl," I said, feeling defensive.

"Marco crossed a line. He—" I stopped, not wanting to get into the details of what had happened at his birthday party.

"He did something that I couldn't overlook. As his friend or his captain."

Coach studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"You know what I think?" he said finally.

"I think whatever happened between you two, and I can't force you guys to reconcile but  this is costing the entire team a championship."

"Coach—"

"I'm not saying you were wrong to stand up to him," Coach continued.

"I don't know what he did, and frankly, I don't want to know. But I do know that in three weeks, we're going into the most important games of your college careers, and we're going to get destroyed if we don't have our full roster."

"Marco quit," I pointed out. 

"That was his choice."

"Then un-quit him," Coach said bluntly. 

"Talk to him and do whatever it takes to get him back on this team,or find a competent replacement. I don't care what you do” 

“Right now, we need the team on track more than we need our pride."

The suggestion made my skin crawl. 

"I can't do that," I said quietly.

"Can't or won't?" Coach asked.

"Both," I admitted.

Coach sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. 

"Danny, you're one of the best captains I've ever coached. You care about your team, you lead by example, and you never ask anyone to do something you wouldn't do yourself.” 

“But being a good captain also means making hard choices. Sometimes it means swallowing your pride for the good of the team."

"I understand that," I said.

"But there are some things that are more important than hockey. Some lines you can't cross just because it's convenient."

"Even if it means letting your team down?" Coach asked.