“Did you?”
Shane tensed. “What’s that mean?”
J.J. stared at him for a few seconds, then shook his head. “I don’t know, Hollander. Just...fuck, tell me it was a mistake.”
“What?”Shane couldn’t fucking believe this. “You think I fell on purpose? That IletIlya score?”
Comeau stood from where he’d been slumped in his stall. “I know what I saw. What everyone saw. It didn’t look like an accident.”
“Well, itwas. What the fuck?” Everyone in the room was staring at him now. Shane turned to face as many of his teammates as he could. “You guys don’t actually think I fell on purpose, do you?”
There was mostly silence, with some muttering in both French and English. Finally, J.J. blew out a breath and said, “No, I don’t think that.”
Suddenly, Hayden was at Shane’s side. “Of course we don’t fucking think that. Come on, guys. Shane would never betray his team.”
But Hayden and J.J. seemed to be the only ones who were sure of that.
“Fuck this,” Shane muttered, and began to angrily remove the rest of his gear. These were the guys who were supposed to have his back. They’d won a cup together last year and fought like hell all season for another one. Some of these men had played with Shane for over ten seasons. It made him sick that they were so quick to believe him to be a traitor.
Shane’s parents were waiting for him outside the locker room by the time he’d gotten showered and changed. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to his teammates. If any of them wanted to apologize, they had his number.
“If you want to stay longer,” Mom said, “we can head to the house without you.”
“No. I want to get out of here. Now.” He walked quickly down the hall toward the underground parking, leaving his parents scrambling to catch up. He was being rude, he knew, but he felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe until he was out of the fucking arena.
When he got to his car, he leaned back against it and stared up at the ugly ceiling of the garage. His eyes burned with furious tears. “They think I fell on purpose,” he said.
“What?”Mom said. “Who said that? I want names.”
Shane shook his head. “I’ve given this team everything and...” His face crumpled.
Dad wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry, Shane. It’s been a rough couple of weeks for you.”
Shane sniffed. “It can only get better, right?” He glanced over Dad’s shoulder to see Mom frowning at her phone. “Oh god. What now?”
Mom forced her lips into the least convincing smile Shane had ever seen. “Nothing important. Let’s go home.”
“You were checking Twitter, weren’t you? What’s everyone saying?”
Mom slipped her phone into her pocket. “Like I said. Nothing important.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The next morning, Ilya was disgusted to see that hockey media was full of opinion pieces that wondered aloud if Shane had intentionally let Ilya score.
“This is insulting to me as well,” Ilya complained on the phone to Shane. “They think I can’t beat you unless we cheat?”
“You wouldn’t have beaten me if I hadn’t tripped,” Shane pointed out for no reason at all.
“Shane,” Ilya sighed. “Not now. And of course I would have.”
“I’m so fucking angry,” Shane said. “I don’t deserve this.”
Ilya was glad to hear him say it. “You’re a free agent now. Get the fuck out of there. Go somewhere that will appreciate you.”
Shane snorted. “Like where? Ottawa?”
Ilya held his breath. Because of course, yes. Ottawa.
