“I’m sorry, Coach. I lost my cool.” I exhale quietly. “I was just gonna ignore him until he threatened to go after Ellie.”
Coach Porter’s glare dials back a bit.
“After he dumped his drink on me, he said, Don’t worry. I saved some to pour on your gold-digging wife too.’”
Coach Porter’s brow lifts.
“I’m not trying to make excuses. I just want to explain where my head was at,” I say. “I’m a pretty easygoing guy. I think you see that. I let stuff roll off my back usually. But I can’t do thatwhen it comes to my wife. I can’t just stand there and let some guy threaten her. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
He aims that hard start at me for a long minute before he blinks and nods once. “I understand. I’m the same way. And I think you know that.”
He glances at a framed photo of him and Abby on his desk. She’s sitting on his lap in her wedding dress, eyes closed as she smiles, resting her head on his chest. He has his hands wrapped around her waist, and he’s smiling. He looks like he’s never been happier.
“I’m sure you remember how I went after Zach McCoy when he disrespected Abby,” he says.
I nod, remembering how McCoy, who played for Calgary last season briefly, taunted Coach Porter while we were heading to the locker room. Coach punched him, and a huge fight broke out between both teams in the hallway. I jumped in without hesitation because he’s our coach and we’d go to battle for him, no matter what. And because McCoy deserved to get his ass kicked too.
“I certainly remember how you jumped in and fought,” Coach Porter says.
“I’d do it again,” I say.
He nods, appreciating my support.
“Whatever punishment the league wants to give me, I won’t challenge it.” I clear my throat, working up the nerve to say the next part. “And I’ll understand if you don’t want me to be alternate captain anymore.”
“You won’t be punished. And you’re still alternate captain.”
I blink at him. “Really?”
He nods. “I already talked to the league rep about what happened. Because the fan instigated it and assaulted you with an object, it was deemed their fault. They’ve been banned from the arena. You’re not in any trouble.”
I let out a breath, relieved and happy. “That’s great news.”
“It is. But let’s not make attacking fans in the stands a habit, no matter the reason. Understand?”
“Absolutely. It won’t happen again.”
“Especially given all the gossip on sports news and social media about your marriage. You really should be keeping a low profile right now, not getting into public altercations with fans.”
A small pang of guilt hits me. He’s right. There’s still a media shitshow happening around the team because of me.
Frustration and disappointment land at the center of my chest. I wish I knew what to do to make it go away. But the Bashers PR team told me not to address it, to just ignore all the negative comments online and pretend like it’s not happening.
I hate it though. I want to say how I feel. I want to defend my wife. And I want to figure out who that source is who spread those lies about us in that initial news story.
When I head out of his office, my phone buzzes with a text from the group chat I have with the guys.
Xander: How’d the meeting with Coach go? You’re not suspended, are you?
Theo: If you get suspended, Connors, I’m rioting.
Blomdahl: Same. That’s some bullshit.
Sam: Yeah, we ride at dawn for you, Connors.
Ryker: I’m too old to riot. Or go to jail for rioting. Sorry, Connors. Still in your corner though.
Del: What Ryker said.
