“You’re tearing this team apart,” I say quietly as I level a hard gaze at him. “You’re nineteen years old and you think you know everything. I’m here to tell you…you don’t know shit about what it takes to run a professional sports team.”

“Get off your soapbox, old man,” Claude says. “You’re just spouting off at the mouth because you know your job is in jeopardy. Max played a better game than you this past week, and, frankly, he deserves the starting spot. No one forgets you fucked us out of the championship last year.”

Before I can even defend myself, Max stands up from his chair, causing my head to whip his way. “Shut the fuck up, Amedee. Don’t speak on my behalf. Coach Pretore will put the best goalie in who’s right for the job.”

Claude holds up his hands and waves them like he’s scared. “Oh, my bad, Fournier. Maybe Gray Bannon is sucking your dick the way I suspect she’s sucking all of you morons that support her.”

That’s it. He crossed the line again.

I push up out of my chair so fast it topples backward and start my way toward Claude. Alex is on me in a flash, grabbing me from behind by my arms.

“Bring it, asshole,” Claude sneers now that I’m being held back.

“He already kicked your ass once,” Alex growls. “Want me to let him go so he does it again?”

“What?” someone says behind me. “Ryker is the one that messed your face up?”

“You two got in a fight?” another teammate asks.

“Evans sucker punched Claude,” I hear, and I don’t need to turn my head to know that was Sam Larson defending his friend.

“What the fuck?” someone else says with indignation.

“Enough!” Alex roars, and the room goes silent. “Listen to us. Coach Pretore was right…we’re definitely missing something and it’s going to bring us down. Ryker hit the nail on the head. We’re missing unification, and that should be fucking apparent to everyone at this point.”

Alex lets my arms go, and even though I’d still love to do nothing more than rearrange Amedee’s face, I need to support Alex as he tries to diffuse the situation.

“If unification is so important,” I hear another player say, “then why is Ryker sucker punching his teammate? Didn’t he do that on another team? Seems to me he’s the one that needs to practice what he preaches.”

My shoulders sag a bit, because when you say it like that, it sounds like I’m the bad seed in this group.

“Ryker had cause to do it, and it wasn’t a sucker punch,” Alex says, and I startle over his defense of me. After the fight that night, he made all of us agree not to tell anyone so it wouldn’t blow up. The mere fact he’s delving into it has me astonished.

“What-the-fuck-ever,” Sam spits out to defend his friend. “He came barreling at Claude and he didn’t have a chance to defend himself.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m faster than he is,” I mutter.

Alex growls at me but then says to the team, “It is not okay to make demeaning statements about women. This organization has an image to uphold. We are role models to adults and kids. So pardon me for thinking this, but I think Claude deserved to have his ass kicked when he said Gray Brannon wouldn’t be so high and mighty if he shoved his dick down her throat.”

I notice several of the players wince, a few turn quickly to glare at Claude.

“Or that she just needed a hard fucking to put her in her place,” Alex adds, so no one mistakes the nature of Claude’s comments.

“Dude…not cool,” I hear someone murmur.

“You’re an asshole, Amedee,” another says.

It seems we’re back on track when Mikkel Erat speaks up. “Forget the fight and what Claude said, which admittedly was stupid. The fact of the matter is, we’re being run by a general manager that not all of us trust.”

“That’s a fair statement,” Garrett says as he stands and faces Mikkel. “But what is it exactly you don’t trust in? Is it only because she’s a woman? Or is it because you don’t like her methodology? There’s a big difference, in my opinion.”

“Listen,” I say, then take a deep breath. “We all know it was a major shakeup to this league and this team when Gray Brannon was hired as general manager. The media made a huge deal about her being a woman, but let me remind you. She has played hockey. She’s a fucking two-time Olympic medalist, so do not discount her because of her gender. On top of that, she was one of the top scouts in the league and she’s responsible for many of you being on this team. You clearly trusted her when she scouted you for the Cold Fury, so why not trust her now?”

I look around. Most people are looking directly at me, a few have their faces averted in what I think might be shame. So I continue.

“If you don’t trust the way she makes her decisions, all I can tell you is I get it. It’s new to all of us, and I don’t know if it’s going to work. But the one thing you should ask yourself is this: Is there anything she has done so far that has hurt this team? In fact, go one step further…don’t we have a fucking amazing team that she’s helped to put together? Are we not at the top of our division and the conference leader? I’m mean seriously, dudes…what more do you fucking want?”

Now several men are nodding with me in agreement. Claude still glares. I look directly at him as I talk. “We are missing unification, and we’ve let ourselves get sidetracked by something that we shouldn’t be wasting our time on. Not one of us can change the management, so we need to roll with it. We need to put our heads together and we have got to get back our camaraderie. Our hearts are what make this team strong. If we don’t, we are going to fall completely apart and you can kiss that Cup goodbye.”