Chapter 41: Trey: Damage Control (I)

TREY

"What were you thinking?" Lindsay, my publicist, asks.

She has both hands braced on Coach’s desk, glaring at me like she expects remorse to show up if she waits long enough. Coach Jenson is giving me his version of the same treatment from behind the desk. I’ve seen this setup before, though, so neither of them is getting much out of the intimidation.

The last time Lindsay ended up in his office like this was sophomore year, after I put a Westbridge University defenseman into the ice hard enough to get myself tossed from the game. He’d spent the second period running his mouth and taking cheap shots at one of our freshmen, then tried it again after the whistle.

By then, I was done watching.

Lindsay and Coach had a different interpretation of how I dealt with it, and judging by the way they’re looking at me now, neither of them thinks sophomore year taught me much.

I settle back in the chair, one ankle resting over my knee. "You’re going to have to be more specific."

Coach scoffs, jaw flexing as he leans forward. "I don’t ride you guys off the ice. Never have. I trust you to handle your business." His palm hits the desk. "But a frat-party brawl? With your own brother, Mercer? That’s not handling your business!"

Before I can answer, Lindsay straightens. "Do you understand what this becomes if it gets out? There were phones everywhere."

"Relax," I mutter. "No one’s leaking anything for attention. Half the people at that party would be implicating themselves too."

She plants one hand on her waist. "You’re seriously underestimating this. You’re not some random guy at a frat party, Trey. You’re team captain, you’ve got over a hundred and twenty-five career points, and four major brand deals. The fallout is not the same for you."

Right. Captain. Alpha heir. Brand deals. Career points. At this rate, I’m going to need written permission before I’m allowed to be pissed off. Heaven forbid I beat the shit out of my jealous asshole brother without someone bringing up the fact that I advertise shoes.

Trex gives a lazy push against my thoughts. [Say sorry. Lindsay cools off, Coach stops lecturing, we eat, we sleep. Everybody wins.]

I look at Coach. "The fighting won’t happen again. Lesson learned. Better captain from now on."

"Sit your ass down, Mercer," he growls before I can even shift forward in the chair. "You think that’s enough to get you out of here?"

Apparently so. Worth a shot.

Lindsay exhales and presses her fingers to her forehead. "We need to contain this before it becomes a bigger story. If Ezra decides to spin the fight his way, I want us prepared before we’re forced to play defense."

Coach settles back in his chair. "I also got off the phone with your father. He wants you off the roster for the next few games so you can focus on the Ascension Trials and, in his words, ’build a better relationship with your brother.’" His stare stays on me. "So do you understand why this isn’t something you can brush off?"

I run a hand through my hair and exhale. "What do you need?"

He leans forward again. "For starters, this was over a girl?"

I feel the muscle beside my eye jump. One hand shifts against my knee before I force it still.

Lindsay folds her arms. "Brothers fight. That’s normal enough. What isn’t normal is two brothers going at each other over the same girl in front of a crowd."

Coach looks almost offended that he doesn’t already know. "Who is she? I tell people all the time that you’re one of the few guys on this team I never have to worry about off the ice. No scandals, no stupid relationship drama. I even told you my daughter had a crush on you because I knew you weren’t like half the idiots in that locker room. So who is this girl?"

They both lean in, waiting.

The annoying part is that neither of them needs her name. They probably know exactly who Sadie is. What they want is for me to define whatever this is between us, and I don’t have a clean answer for that.

Because saying she’s my tutor sounds stupid as hell after I beat my brother bloody over her. My roommate isn’t much better.

Calling her Ezra’s ex-mate would be accurate, but I’m not opening that door unless somebody drags me through it.

"Don’t you already know about her?" I ask Lindsay. "You seem to know everything else that happened that night."

She gives me a long look before pulling one of those ridiculous files from the stack beside her and sliding it towards me. Sadie’s LinkedIn photo is right there on the first page, followed by far more than a basic bio.

Lindsay has her grades, Quiz Bowl, clubs, awards, the jobs she’s worked, even a few notes on who she spends most of her time with around campus.

I flip a page, then another. This didn’t come from a five-minute search.

"Lindsay." My voice comes out flat. "How long have you had this?"

"Since the video reached me an hour ago." She says like that’s a normal amount of time to build a full profile on someone. "It’s my job to know who you’re associated with before it becomes a liability."

The pressure behind my eyes builds before I make it halfway down the page.

Coach’s attention shifts to what I’m reading. "What is that?"

I glance down at it. "Lindsay’s been building a case file."

I push it across the desk and let him read. The farther he gets, the harder it becomes to miss the change in his face.

"This is her?" he asks after a while.

"I assume you’re underwhelmed." My finger taps against my foot.

He scans through it again. "She’s..." He stops there. "She’s Ezra’s—"

"Ex-mate," I finish for him. "What else do you need clarification on?"