Page 152 of Slapshot Kiss

The door opens.

Coach Brennan’s tie is gone, his sleeves shoved up to his elbows. No clipboard either. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man without one.

He’s standing in the doorway of his office, and one look at his face tells me exactly how bad this is.

He’s fucking furious.

His jaw is locked so tight I can see the muscle jumping in his cheek, and when his eyes land on me, there’s none of the controlled irritation I’ve seen after a bad shift or a stupid penalty. This is something else entirely.

"Larkin. Office. Now."

"Coach, I was coming to talk to you."

"I don’t give a shit what you were coming to do."

His voice cracks through the hallway hard enough that a couple guys farther down go quiet.

I hold his stare for a second, then nod.

"Fair. But you’re going to hear me out."

He gives a short, humorless laugh. "You’ve got some fucking nerve."

Maybe I do.

But I’m done hiding this. Done sneaking around like Quinn is some mistake I made instead of the best damn thing that’s happened to me.

Brennan turns and stalks back into his office without bothering to hold the door.

I glance over my shoulder. Jordan’s still standing by the equipment room, hands shoved into his pockets, and for once in his life, there isn’t even the hint of a smirk on his face.

Then I walk into Brennan’s office.

I’m not scared of him. Whatever he throws at me, I can handle it.

And for Quinn, it’ll be worth every damn consequence.