Me
You have nothing to be sorry for. You weren’t out there giving up goals.
H.E.
No, but I know how much you care about your guys. Losing 8-1 can’t be fun.
Me
No. It fucking sucks.
I’ll stop by, but it’s going to be a while. My captain has been playing like shit this week, and I need to have a conversation with him.
Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like being an asshole, but I think I’m going to have to be.
H.E.
You’re just doing your job. Take your time. I can’t wait to see you and give you a big hug.
Brody
HE:I’m sorry about the loss tonight. I’m sure you want some space, but my door is always open if you feel like stopping by. No pressure. Xoxo
Me:You have nothing to be sorry for. You weren’t out there giving up goals.
HE:No, but I know how much you care about your guys. Losing 8-1 can’t be fun.
Me:No. It fucking sucks.
Me:I’ll stop by, but it’s going to be a while. My captain has been playing like shit this week, and I need to have a conversation with him.
Me:Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like being an asshole, but I think I’m going to have to be.
HE:You’re just doing your job. Take your time. I can’t wait to see you and give you a big hug.
**
Reading Hannah’s message as I walk down the tunnel after an embarrassing defeat is the only thing keeping me calm. Piper doesn’t try to wrangle me for an interview. Our social media intern doesn’t bother asking if I want to speak to the group of reporters waiting in the media room. Everyone knows better than to put me in front of a microphone after getting our asses handed to us.
“Miller,” I bark out, and my captain stops to look at me. Behind him, Liam throws his goalie stick to the ground. “Shower. My office.”
“Yeah.” Maverick nods, his eye purple from where he got decked in the face in the second period. His shoulders curl forward, and he has to lean on his stick to stay upright. “Okay.”
I brush past the rest of the guys heading for the locker room and kick open the door to my office. I drop in my chair and open my email, waiting for our film team to send me the condensed footage from tonight’s game so I can start seeing how fuckingawfulwe played.
The knock forty-five minutes later barely grabs my attention, but Maverick’s voice does.
“Coach.” Maverick steps inside and shuts the door behind him. “You wanted to see me?”
“Sit down.” I point to the chairs, not waiting for him to get comfortable. “You and I have never bullshited each other, Miller, and we’re not going to start now. I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it honestly.”
He slides into the chair and fixes his hoodie, folding his hands in his lap. “Okay.”
“What is going on with you this week? You’re late to practice. You’re playing like shit. Every time I look at you, you’re seconds away from falling asleep while standing up. If you can’t figure this out, I’m going to have to bench you. It’s not something I want to do, but you can’t honestly tell me you’re playing at the top of your game right now.”
Maverick blinks. His bottom lip quivers, and he takes a deep breath. “It’s Emmy,” he whispers. “Things aren’t good with us right now. She’s… I think… I’ve been doing a lot of research on postpartum depression? I’m afraid of what’s going on with her, but she won’t fuckingtalkto me even though I’m trying to help.” He pulls at his hair. A sob works out of him, and I freeze.“She’s not sleeping. She’s not working out because she just had a fucking baby and she needs to let her body recover, but people flood her social media asking when she’s going to be back. When I try to help with Murphy, Emmy doesn’t let me because she thinks Murphy likes me more than she likes her. I don’t know what to fucking do. I’m scared, Coach. For her. For Murphy. Forme, because I’m a selfish fucking asshole. Emmy is everything to me. If something happened to her, I wouldn’t forgive myself and?—”
I grab the landline phone sitting on my desk and punch the code for the locker room, feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. It rings three times before Lexi picks up.
