"The parental leave advocacy," he says. "It's getting pushback." I texted him about this weeks ago at my father’s advice. I should have been following through on this … been a thorn in their side.
"What kind of pushback?"
"Management's concerned about your commitment. There's talk that you're becoming a distraction."
My stomach drops. “Seriously? Mayhem just wrecked a motorcycle. I’m just trying to be a good dad…”
"Your play's been off lately. Everyone's noticed." Brian leans against the desk. "And with all this talk about wanting time off—some people are questioning if you still have the edge."
"I'm still doing my job."
"Are you?" He raises an eyebrow. "Because from what I've seen in the last few games, youaredistracted. Slow. Not protecting your teammates the way you used to."
"That's not?—"
"Tucker." His voice is gentle but firm. "I'm on your side. But you need to figure out what's going on. Because if your play doesn't improve, management's going to start asking harder questions."
He pats me on the arm with a folder. “I gotta go snag one of your brothers before he leaves me high and dry over a dog food endorsement.”
Brian breezes down the hall like we were just casually chatting about the weather.
Meanwhile, I feel like I got hit with a monsoon.
My play is suffering. I know it is. But it's not because I'm soft or distracted by family. It's because Sloane won't talk to me, and I don't know how to fix it. One thing I do know: Sloane has enough on her plate, and worrying about my job isn't going to relieve any of the stress she’s feeling. I have to keep this shit on lock until I find a solution.
On Thursday, I have to leave for a short road trip—just two days, games in Columbus and Detroit. Sloane has a doctor's appointment while I'm gone.
"Text me after?" I ask before I leave. "Let me know how it goes?"
"Sure."
"And if you need anything, my parents are around. My mom said she'd be happy to?—"
"I'll be fine, Tucker. Go and win, okay?"
I kiss her forehead. She lets me, but doesn't lean into it. Doesn't kiss me back. Definitely not the time for me to tell her I don’t even know if I’ll get play time on this trip.
I need to make progress with the parental leave policy pronto. What’s the point of being related to your lawyer if he can’t even rattle the bars with the big guys? It occurs to me that my cousin Pete is working at Stag Law now that he’s back in town. He can help me figure out what’s up with my negotiations.
I call him on the team bus, hoping no one can hear my conversation over their Showgirl sing-along.
“Tuck? Where the hell are you?” Pete sounds like I just interrupted him while he was working out.
“Hey, man. This is a genuine work question.”
He sighs, and I hear a door close. Wonder where he actually is. But that’s a personal question, and I’m calling him as a client right now. “What’s up?”
“I need you to go full Stag on the players’ association about my contract amendment. They’re being dicks about giving me leave.”
“Hm.” The line crackles, like Pete’s scratching beard stubble. Which shocks me because my straight-laced cousin is as fastidious as his father when it comes to grooming. “That project isn’t on my docket.”
“Well, can you put it on there? I want family handling this, Pete. Honestly, I thought your dad was on it.”
Another growling sound, more scratching. Pete finally says, “Dad’s dealing with a crisis from a player injury. But … yes. I’ve added this to my workload.” My cousin guffaws. “Oh, man, they’re setting themselves up to be sued. Do they even see how gendered this is? It’s discrimination.”
“That’s what I thought!” Pete says something about precedent with the women’s national team and calling up Ortega, so I know he and Mel are going to actually get on this. By the time I get him off the phone, I’m feeling a lot more confident that I’ll actually get to see these babies while they’re babies, without putting an end to my hockey career.
The road trip is terrible, though. I’m still not playing my best. I play badly in Columbus, take a stupid penalty that costs us the game. In Detroit, I'm benched for the third period after missing an assignment.
