“Does who know what?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Does your buddy know you’re fucking his son? Does he know you’re a Daddy? Does he know you’re his son’s Daddy? On the flip side, does your boy know his dad is his Daddy’s bestie?”
“Fuck no. Yes. Absolutely fucking not. Hell, I didn’t even know I was fucking my buddy’s son. And who the fuck knows.”
Ewen’s head turned from the road slowly. So slowly, it was comical. His eyes grew bigger than two dinner plates.
“You’re his fucking coach. How the fuck did you not know your boy was your buddy’s kid?”
“When I took the job, Mikal asked me not to dig, to evaluate the kids without knowing who the players’ parents are. So I did. Some of them are a given. I played with Malachek junior, and I’ve met Malachek senior, so Trey was a given.”
“But some random pretty boy center named Mercer who makes your little soldier stand up and salute…”
“Exactly.”
Ewen pulled into the ambulance bay outside the emergency room. “Delivered safely.”
“You nearly flipped us…”
“But did you die?”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, jumping when someone knocked on the hood. “You can’t park here!”
I opened the door, Hawk jumped out, and the hood banger yelled, “No dogs.”
I ignored the guy, clipping Hawk’s leash on.
“Oh, sorry, man.”
Ignoring him, I strode into the emergency room, bypassing all the people waiting until I stood in front of an employee.
“Sir, you have to wait…”
“Aiden Mercer.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Mercer, but you’ll…”
“He’s not Aiden Mercer. That’s The Storm.”
I turned, and a fan stood staring at me.
“The Storm?” the nurse asked.
“Ma’am, my name is Sasha Storm, and I’m looking for Aiden Mercer.”
“I cannot give out patient information.”
“Just point me toward someone in charge. I’m Mr. Mercer’s hockey coach.”
“Coach Storm?”
I looked up, and a woman in scrubs came toward me.
“Yes?”
“I’m Dr. Amos. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you back to see Aiden.”
“How is he?”
