“Sorry. Just trying to think it through.”
“You’re fine. I just know my boys. None of them would do this.”
“Then who?”
“Maybe a stadium employee? I don’t know. Coach said the security footage was deleted.”
“I don’t like that,” she whispered while massaging the muscle right above my kneecap. “If someone can sneak into the locker room without a trace…”
I turned and cupped her chin until she was looking at me. “Hey. Nobody is going to hurt you, June. I promise. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “You can’t promise that.”
I clenched my jaw. She was right.
But I didn’t like it. As the captain of the team, I felt responsible for everyone’s safety. Including non-player employees like June.
“It’s probably nothing,” I reiterated to her. “Bomb threats never amount to anything. If they wanted to do actual violence, they wouldn’t warn us with a note first.”
“Good point,” she said, but she didn’t sound very confident about her safety.
And for that matter, neither did I.
*
The game against the Oilers the next day was full of tension thanks to the bomb threat. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were all in danger out there on the ice. Security had been ramped up dramatically for the game, but it didn’t comfort me. Hockey games were chaotic, with countless deliveries being made and employees coming and going. If someone wanted to smuggle a gun or a bomb into the arena, it would be difficult to stop them.
With my mind preoccupied, I made two defensive mistakes in the first period—one of which led to a goal. On the other side of the ice, our offense was struggling without Rhett. The official story was that he was sitting out because his shoulder injury had flared up, but he was still right there on the bench, dressed for the game.
He was very obviously frustrated with riding the bench, shouting at opposing players and referees alike. Midway through the third period, Coach Jay had to tell him to sit down and stop picking fights with the referees, or our team would receive a penalty.
All of it led to a horrible game, which we lost, 5-2. Rhett was calm until we got to the locker room, and then picked up a spare helmet and swung it with both hands into a locker, over and over, until the locker was dented and the helmet was smashed into a hundred pieces.
“We know how Rhett feels about sitting out tonight,” Coach Jay said to the room. “Shake it off, boys. It’s just one loss. We have a short road trip tomorrow. Don’t be late for the flight.”
June was watching through the window in her office. I shared a look with her, then began my post-game routine.
Being a pro athlete was tough enough without all these distractions. But the sight of June filled me with a comforting warmth.
I was glad she was in our corner.
23
June
I hated seeing the team lose. It made me feel helpless, sitting on the bench and watching them struggle. It was a harsh reminder that even though I felt like part of the team now, I was secondary. Whether they won or lost was ultimately up to the players on the ice.
On a more personal level, it pained me to see Cole and Rhett upset. My relationships with the two men were mostly physical, but I cared about them. When they trudged into the locker room after the game, I wished I could wrap them each in a long hug to make them feel better.
We went through our post-game routines. Ice baths, massages, post-game workouts. Rhett hopped on the treadmill after the game and jogged for an hour, took a shower, then went into Coach Jay’s office and closed the door. His office was mostly soundproof, but I still heard yelling through the door. By the time he came out, I was finishing up some paperwork in my office.
Coach Jay left without saying goodbye to me. That told me the meeting with Rhett, whatever it was about, went poorly.
The right wing was sitting in front of his locker, facing away from me while tying his shoes. Everyone else had already left, except for one of our defensemen doing stretches in the weight room.
Rhett almost jumped when I came up and touched him on the shoulder. “Shit. I thought a bomb went off,” he said with a laugh.
“Not a bomb. Just an exhausted trainer. You okay?”
