“Is it?” I ask. “Because I’ve spent the last seven years in the closet worried about something exactly like this being put into place. It’s no secret that every other team would like to get rid of me and now I’ve handed them a clear-cut way to make it happen.”
I bring my hands to my head and thread my fingers through my hair, tugging harshly at the strands. “I love hockey, and I have no other options for me in life but to play. It’s not like I have any other career opportunities open to me. Without hockey, it’s back to the fishing boats for me.”
“Not gonna happen,” my dad says.
I clink his root beer bottle with mine.
“You have support, though,” Tavish says. “Coach Matthews and the rest of the Blizzards organization aren’t about to let them excommunicate you.”
“That’s one team out of thirty-two,” I say. “I’m largely outnumbered here.”
“Okay, but…” Bouchard says. “If they put this rule into effect, it’s not just you who gets kicked out of the league. It’s Connor too.”
“I know!” I bellow. “Which is why I have to do what he says. I have to forget about Connor if I want to protect him.”
“Sure,” Bouchard says. “But that’s never going to work. You and Connor are in love, which is obvious to everyone…” Bouchard holds out his hands in wait.
“It’s not obvious,” I say as my heart rises into my throat. I hate that I’m being laid so bare right now. That other people are speaking aloud the thing I have yet to be able to say myself.
“It is,” Tavish says.
I turn away from them and take a deep breath.
“Look,” I say in a steadying tone when I turn back around. “The damage is done. I’ll never be able to live with myself if I’m the reason Connor loses his place in the league. He loves hockey. He’s the best at it. He deserves to play.”
“So do you,” my dad says.
Bouchard holds his fist up in his agreement and my dad taps it.
“Yeah,” Tavish agrees. “You can act tough all you want, big guy. But you deserve your place in the league as well. You’ve earned it and I know everyone on the Blizzards will agree with me. You’re not getting kicked out without a fight.”
This time Bouchard holds his other fist up, and Tavish bumps that one.
“Hey,” Bouchard says, grabbing my attention. “What doesyourConnor say?”
I throw my hands up as the barely contained panic I’ve been feeling finally explodes out of me. “I don’t know! I can’t fucking get a hold of him!”
TWENTY-TWO
Connor
I can’t fucking take this shit anymore. My father has gone too far, and it’s all my fault. I should have put a stop to his controlling behavior years ago.
Which is exactly what I’m going to try to do now.
“I’m demanding a trade,” I say to Coach Chris the minute he opens the door to his lakefront townhouse for me. He doesn’t look surprised to see me despite the late hour. It’s almost midnight. I had to sneak here on the Red Line wearing an oversized hoodie and ball cap while keeping my head down.
“If only it was that easy,” he says as he gestures for me to follow him inside. “You know he’s not going to let you go.”
“Can I get you some coffee?” Coach Chris’s wife, Michelle, asks, as we step into the kitchen.
I shake my head no. My nerves are so frayed, and even though I’m exhausted, coffee will only make everything worse.
She looks at me with sympathy in her friendly blue eyes. “How about some herbal tea?”
I smile at her. “That actually would be nice.”
Coach clears some papers off their kitchen table and tells me to sitdown. I do, then take my ball cap off and run my hands through my tangled and disheveled hair, trying to smooth it into something presentable.
