No one says anything, but looking around the locker room, I see the truth in some of the faces.I know it’s true for me.
“Listen, I get it,” he says.“I have a fiancée waiting for me at home.But I’d rather tough it out a few more weeks and spend the off-season celebrating winning the Dickinson Cup with her than throw in the towel now and have a few extra weeks regretting not giving it my all to be a champion.”
He’s right.I know it.My teammates know it.But logic doesn’t always coincide with feelings.I don’t regret taking my relationship with Phoebe into the physical realm at all.But I wonder if I would have an easier time focusing if I didn’t know about the sweet kisses and the not-so-sweet sexy times I’m missing during away games.If I’m missing something I’ve only had for barely over a week, how must my teammates feel going without something they’re used to?I don’t know how people do this year after year.Especially once children enter the picture.I know my pro hockey days are done when Phoebe and I start a family.Or maybe I can convince management to give me a contract where I only play home games.I wonder if that’s a thing.
“King!”Coach barks…roars?He’s a cougar shifter, so maybe roar is better.Whatever he’s doing, he’s pissed, and it’s directed at me.Shit.
“Yes, Coach?”
“You played well on the ice tonight…”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I wasn’t done.”
Shit.
“You played well on the ice, but that’s because your body is trained to do what it needs to.Your brain is not in the building.At least your body was here—that’s more than can be said for your teammates.We need to pull it together.Or not.If you don’t want to play anymore, we can call up a bunch of Demon Geese and let them have a crack at it.Goodness knows they can’t be doing any worse than you are.Is that what we should do?”
A chorus of “No, Coach,” and “Sorry, Coach,” spreads like a wave reaching the shore through the locker room.Some of my teammates shoot glares at each other.
I knew it.I knew the friendliness and camaraderie of the team were a facade.It’s easy to be happy and all buddy-buddy when you’re on top, but now that there’s pressure and people are making mistakes, true natures are coming out.This is toxic like Spokane.
Coach smacks his clipboard against the wall.“If we were beaten by a superior team, that would be one thing, but we beat ourselves.The Spellbinders didn’t win.We lost.I know it’s hard being away from home, and we’re bruised and battered and tired.If you’ve seriously reached your limit, tell me.We have talented folks on our farm team, and we can call some up.There’s no shame in admitting you need help.If you need to talk to someone, we have resources.Yeah, we damn well want to win the Cup, but we’re a team, and everyone matters.”
That’s different.Where’s the “suck it up, buttercup” and “you’re all a bunch of fucking cock-sucking losers who can be replaced in a heartbeat”?I look around the locker room to see if my teammates are as shocked as I am.Oh, wait, they’re used to having a sane, supportive coach.I love that for them, but it’s going to take some getting used to for me.
“Okay, we’re going back to the hotel after you shower off the funkiness.Wash this game down the drain.Connect with your loved ones.Remember why we’re here and why you’re doing this.If you need to talk, I’m here.We can do this.We’ve been proving all season that we’re a strong team.We have the skill, let’s show the will.”And he walks out.
My teammates start stripping off their gear and heading to the shower.
“Is this normal?”I whisper to Stone, who’s in the stall next to mine.
“What?”
“These talks from Coach where he tells us off but is gentle about it?”
He snort-laughs, causing some of our teammates to look over.He jerks a thumb toward me.
“King is asking if Coach is normally this gentle telling us off.”
“Dude, what are you used to?”Carter asks.
I shrug.“Thrown trash cans, being called cock-sucking losers who can be replaced in a heartbeat, bag skates until we puke or pass out.”
The weight of everyone’s eyes on me is uncomfortable, so I lean forward to start unlacing my skates and avoid the shock and pity I know I’ll see.
“Holy shit,” Bedard says.“No wonder the Sasquatch are such assholes on the ice.Glad you got out of there.So…um…yeah, that’s how he normally tells us off.Our team culture is big on respect and personal responsibility.”
Nodding because calling them a cult to their faces would be rude, I continue stripping.I like everyone on the team, but I still don’t trust the friendliness they show.Maybe I’m like a dog that’s been kicked too much.I trust Phoebe.And my brother.Other than that, I’m guarded.
It’s a relief to be back in the hotel after dinner at a local steakhouse.I had a surf and turf dinner with ribeye steak and lobster.It was delicious, but I’d rather be home with Phoebe in our kitchen, making something from a meal kit.After crawling into bed, I grab my tablet and FaceTime her.
“Hey, how are you?”she asks when we connect.She’s in the kitchen, and she’s wearing a green apron and a smear of periwinkle frosting on her cheek that I want to lick off.Or apply to other places and lick off.There’s definitely licking involved.
Shrugging, I try to smile.“Better now that I see you, cupcake.How are you?”
She huffs a breath to try to blow hair out of her face.I wish I was there to tuck it behind her ear for her.
