I practically jog through the corridor, then fly through the tunnel and out onto the ice…right in the middle of shooting drills.
I swallow roughly.
The whole team is here. Of course. Because it’s a game day, and morning skate on game day is mandatory for the Foxes.
I skate past Coach, giving him a quick chin nod. He barely acknowledges me, but that’s fine. I want to blend in, and I do my best, lining up to take shots on goal, with Lake and Riggs both giving me arched eyebrows.
I say nothing. I speak better with my skates and stick. I’m fast and aggressive, putting the puck past Miller in the goal. Then we run through the rest of our drills.
My lungs are on fire at the end, but at least I made it without much ado, after all. That’s a relief.
I catch up with Riggs as he’s heading toward the gate.
“How was yesterday? Or is it a secret?” he asks.
“Guess you’ll have to ask your girlfriend,” I say, grateful to talk about something besides my tardiness.
“She tells me nothing about the show.”
“Smart woman. And that means I’ll tell you nothing,” I say.
I survived. And I’ll have to apologize to Mabel next.Again. I’m starting to feel like a fuckup.
When I step into the tunnel, a deep, commanding voice calls out from the ice, “Knight. A word.”
Riggs gives me anoh shitlook, then skates off unscathed.
As my stomach drops, I turn around and skate toward Coach, putting Mabel out of my mind as best I can so I can focus on my job. Coach stands by the boards, reviewing something on his tablet.
He tucks it under his arm when I arrive. “Knight, everything okay?”
I furrow my brow. “Um, yes.”
“Good. I wanted to make sure. Since I know you’ve been through some tough stuff, and you’ve never been late before.”
He noticed. He tracked it. My stomach churns. “Sorry, sir.”
“That’s why I wanted to make sure everything’s good with the family, your daughter, and all?”
“It’s all good,” I reassure him.
“Excellent. Then I’ll be fining you.”
I blink. “What?”
“I expect more of you. We have rookies and veterans alike who look up to you. Don’t be late again.”
He turns around and skates off to join his assistant coaches, and I don’t move.
It’s not about the money—it’s the embarrassment. This isn’t me. I don’t even know who I’ve become.
42
AT LEAST I PUT ON DEODORANT
MABEL
If I had been at the firehouse last night, I’d have slid down the pole to save time getting to the kitchen. Instead, I jumped out of Corbin’s car, slammed the door and vaulted through the front entrance of Afternoon Delight.
