The room is quiet as we get ready for the pre-game skate. I have questions, but I can’t ask them right now. Practice isn’t easy. We’re all off, and it shows in the way we play. I don’t have much faith that we’ll be able to pull it together for the game tonight.

Lance takes off afterward without talking to anyone. I wait until me and Miller are alone before I ask any questions. “How’d Coach find out?”

“They were going at it in the locker room. Coach was the one who walked in on them, so Tash got let go, and they brought in this new guy.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s Lance?”

“Not good. He’s not answering calls. I think this has been going on a lot longer than any of us realized. Tash’s career is shot—at least in terms of working with any pro team.” He stops in front of his car and spins his keys around his finger.

“This is a clusterfuck.”

“Yeah, man. He’s lucky he’s not getting traded. He’s gonna have to watch his ass from now on. Coach is seriously pissed. Tash’s been the team trainer for two years. These guys had a routine down, and now they gotta get used to a new one. There can’t be anymore bullshit like this or we’re gonna have more than new-trainer issues.”

“That’s kinda hypocritical coming from you, huh?”

Miller scoffs. “Even I knew better than to get all up in the staff.” His phone beeps. “Hold on.” He takes the call and walks away from me, his voice low. I can tell its Sunny since he calls her sweets.

I’m thinking it might be a good idea to stop by Lance’s later, if he still isn’t answering calls. He’s not good when he’s upset. He has a tendency to fly off the handle. And drink too much. I want to make sure he’s not face down on the bathroom floor or anything.

I send him a text while I wait for Miller to be done talking to Sunny. He’s doing a lot of pacing. I hope things are okay there. The last thing I need is more chick drama with my teammates. There’s already more than enough to last me a year. This is one of the reasons I’m wary about relationships; they mess with people’s heads.

I see it happen with my mom every so often. I think she’s tried to date a couple of times, but after the way my dad fucked her over—and sometimes still does if he feels like being a real asshole—she doesn’t trust men. I can’t blame her, either.

I scroll through my messages. I’ve got nothing from Lily. I get this twinge in the back of my neck. I rub it, but it doesn’t go away. It should be good that she’s not texting the day after. It means she’s not making this into more than what it is.

I pocket my phone when Miller turns around. “Everything all right?” I ask.

“Yeah. Fine. Sunny’s just worried. I guess she talked to Violet and got the story from her. Now they’re talking to Tash, and she’s all upset. I still don’t get why they’d be banging in the damn locker room.” He blows out a breath. “This situation is seriously messed.”

“I’m gonna stop by Lance’s to check on him.”

“Good plan. I’ll come with you.”

“Food first, though?”

“Damn right.”

We hit a buffet and carb load so Miller’s ready for the game tonight; then we drive to Lance’s place. We have the code to get in, but the safety latch is on, so we can’t get through the door. It doesn’t matter how long we ring the doorbell; he’s not answering.

“I’mma scale the fence,” Miller announces.

“That’s probably not the best plan.” Lance’s fence is one of those wrought-iron jobs, covered in ivy with pointy things on top.

“It’ll be fine.” Miller ambles over and jumps up, catching two posts. He plants his feet on the bars, but he’s wearing skater shoes, and they don’t have traction. Miller’s also a big guy. He’s beefy, like defense usually are, and he’s got a good thirty pounds on me, maybe a little more. I have to work hard to bulk up at all, and if I don’t watch it, I end up dropping all the weight I put on over off-season as soon as we start hardcore training.

He struggles with a couple of attempts, and I watch, biting back a laugh. “Want a boost?”

“Like you can lift my ass. I’ll boost you over.”

“No fucking way. You see how pointy that shit is?” I motion to the sword-like tips. My balls get achy just thinking about being near those.

“You’ll be fine. Seriously, Balls, those aren’t razors attached to the top.”

He’s right. I know that. But I’d rather boost him, even though I’d likely strain something. He laces his fingers together and bends down far enough for me to use them as a step. I can’t argue. He’ll razz the shit out of me. He knows I have irrational fears regarding the state of my balls.

Or maybe they’re not irrational considering how I almost lost them, and half my dick, when I was eleven.

“Fuck you, Buck,” I mumble and put my foot on his hand bridge. “I hope I stepped in dog shit.”

“I’ll wipe it on your ass when I hoist you over.”

“You do, and I’ll kick you in the face.”

“And I’ll taint-punch you, so we’ll be even.”

“Just boost me, asshole.”

“On three.”

“Yeah.”

Miller counts to three and launches me up. I manage to get my foot on top of the rail.