Edge Of The Ice (On Going And Own Book)

Cold Begginging.5

Alex's mind was spinning as he skated away from Cass. Good enough? That was the problem-he never felt good enough. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how many hours he put in, there was always something-someone-better. And hearing it from Cass, of all people, felt like a punch to the gut. Cass, who never seemed to try, who floated through everything with ease, telling him to ease up?

Alex tightened his grip on his stick, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. He hated how those words stuck with him, how Cass's casual observation had hit so deep. The rink was supposed to be where he could leave all that behind.

The locker room door creaked open, and the noise of his teammates filtering in made Alex realize practice was really over. He pushed off toward the exit, trying to focus on the rest of the day. School. Homework. Getting through it all without letting the pressure crack him.

But as soon as he stepped off the ice, Coach Harris called after him.

"Rivera! A word?"

Alex froze, his stomach dropping. He was already bracing himself for what Coach had to say, even before he turned around.

Coach Harris stood by the boards, arms crossed. "You've been off lately. Want to tell me what's going on?"

Alex swallowed hard. "I'm fine, Coach."

"You're not," Harris said bluntly, his eyes scanning Alex with that intense, no-nonsense look. "You're skating like something's eating at you. I've seen you better. Hell, you were better a week ago."

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. What was he supposed to say? That he felt like he was drowning under the weight of it all? That no matter what he did, it never felt like enough?

Harris shook his head. "I need you focused, Rivera. We've got Cedar Heights coming up, and we can't afford to be sloppy. You're a key player-I know you've got it in you. But whatever's going on in your head, you need to figure it out."

Alex nodded, unable to meet Coach's eyes. "I will."

"Good," Harris said firmly. "Because if you want a shot at starting, you can't afford another day like today. Got it?"

"Got it," Alex muttered, his chest tight.

"Alright. Hit the showers, then. I'll see you tomorrow." Coach gave him a brief nod before turning back to the rest of the team, already calling out orders.

Alex stood there for a second longer, the weight of Coach's words pressing down on him. His shot at starting. The one thing he'd been working for all season, and it felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

He dragged himself to the locker room, the usual banter and laughter bouncing off the walls. He barely heard it. The words "good enough" and "can't afford to be sloppy" echoed in his mind.

Logan slapped him on the back as he passed. "Don't sweat it, Rivera. You'll bounce back."

Alex forced a smile. "Yeah, thanks."

But as he sat down on the bench, pulling off his gear, all he could think about was how much further he had to go-how much more he had to prove. Not just to Coach, not just to the team, but to himself.

And for the first time, Alex wondered if it would ever be enough.