MidReal Story
Brett "Blitz" Petrov is given an ultimatum by his hockey
Scenario: Brett "Blitz" Petrov is given an ultimatum by his hockey team to shape up or ship out, and he is sent to a distant island to lie low and avoid partying and one-night stands, but he soon realizes that things are not as they seem and he must decide if love is worth fighting for.
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The season’s over.
After losing the first playoff series to the Hershey Bears, the Carolina Cold Fury has officially been knocked out of the running.
I take a deep breath, my hands clenched into fists as I try to suck in enough oxygen to calm me down.
I played like shit tonight.
No, I played like shit the entire game.
And it was all my fault.
I’m a fucking liability, and I need to get my head out of my ass or I’m going to be benched.
Or worse, I’ll be traded to some other team that won’t put up with my bullshit.
Not that I can blame them if they do.
A sound in the doorway pulls my attention away from the wall I’ve been glaring at for the past thirty minutes, and I look up just in time to see our coach walk into the room.
It’s silent as he looks around at all of us, his eyes narrowed and his mouth a thin line.
We’re all still in full gear, but he doesn’t ask us to strip down or hit the showers.
He brings his gaze to me first, and I know what’s coming even before he opens his mouth.
“Petrov, you’re a fucking idiot.”
My temper flares at his words.
I’m not the only one who played like shit tonight, but it’s only me he’s focusing on.
“Cost us the game with your stupid penalty.
Get your ass into my office.
We’re going to be discussing this…in depth.”
For the first time in my life, I might actually be afraid of something other than my mother’s wrath.
The only thing more terrifying than that woman is the man who runs this team.
Clenching my jaw so tight it hurts, I nod, flinging off my helmet as I stand and head toward his office.
I can feel his eyes on me as I go and do my best not to look over at him as I pass by.
“Get out of here,” he says as he follows me into his office.
“I’ll deal with you later.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I stop by my locker to get my street clothes out of my bag and make my way to the nearest exit.
I don’t even make it out of the building before Garrius has me by the arm and is dragging me to a deserted corner of the parking garage for a private chat.
I stay silent, not wanting to give him any ammunition to use against me.
In case you couldn’t tell by the way we lost so awesomely…that’s the last game of the season.”
I nod without saying anything and push my hands into my pockets to keep them still before he decides to chew me out for something stupid like being nervous.
“Petrov,” he says with a sigh.
“You’re skating on thin ice here…in more ways than one.” He holds up his hand before I can interrupt to defend myself.
He’s right, and we both know it.
