“But?”
I pause. “Hockey’s not just about perfect execution. It’s about instinct, feel, and passion. Today you played like someone going through a checklist, not someone whose heart is in it.”
“Maybe I can’t be that guy anymore. Maybe I don’t have it in me.”
Something in my chest twists. “That’s not true.”
He finally looks at me, and I can see the exhaustion in his gaze. “Face it, Coach. Whatever magic I used to have is gone. You’re stuck trying to rebuild a broken goalie who can’t handle having his play on the ice questioned.”
“You’re not broken.”
“Right.” His laugh is dry and grates against my ears. “Then explain the last week. Explain yesterday’s practice. Explain why I can’t seem to do my job anymore.”
Because I’m here. Because my presence reminds you of a night that changed everything for both of us. Because you can’t separate the coach from the man who left you alone in that hotel room.
But I can’t say any of that without making everything worse.
“You’re dealing with a lot of pressure right now,” I say instead. “Contract year, media attention, team expectations. Sometimes that can affect performance.”
“You sound like all the other guys.”
“No, I sound like a coach who’s seen this before.”
“Have you seen a player fall apart like this? Because he can’t handle working with a ghost from his past?”
He’s edging toward what’s really going on, and I’m not sure if I want him to take that final step.
“Sometimes personal history complicates professional relationships.”
“Personal history.” He shakes his head. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“What would you call it?”
I can see the wheels turning, see him weighing his words, deciding how much of truth he’s willing to reveal. Thensomething closes off behind his expression, and the professional mask slides back into place.
“A mistake,” he says finally. “A mistake that’s affecting my ability to do my job. For what it’s worth, Icando my job. You said the technical work is solid. Maybe that’ll be enough to keep me employed.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the guilt I’ve carried for two years.
I stay there for a long time, staring at the empty net where Tate stood just moments before. The net looks less protected without him in it. Like something vital and irreplaceable has been plucked out, leaving it completely exposed.
My phone buzzes with another message from Morrison.
Status update needed. What’s your assessment of target player’s vulnerability to approach?
Target player. Like Tate is just another assignment.
I know exactly how the syndicate would approach someone like Tate. I’ve seen their playbook, lived it myself. They don’t start with threats. They take advantage of weakness and start by offering solutions. Performance enhancement tips from “former players.” Inside information on opposing teams. Connections with management who could guarantee contract extensions.
They’d present themselves as his salvation, not his destruction.
A struggling goalie in a contract year, isolated from his support system by secrets he can’t share? They’d see him as perfect. Desperate enough to listen, skilled enough to be useful, vulnerable enough to control.
The thought makes my stomach turn. Fuck, I can’t let him go down that rabbit hole.
I stare at Morrison’s message for a long time before responding.I can’t put him on their radar. I need to figure out a way to help him so he doesn’t become a target.
Player showing signs of stress but remains focused on performance. No obvious vulnerabilities identified yet.
