Coach bangs his fist against the whiteboard, drawing our attention. “Whatever’s happening outside this room stays outside, gentlemen. We’ve got twenty minutes to figure out how to win this game. Focus up.”
I nod, but my mind’s racing faster than my heart rate. Who leaked this? Phil wouldn’t have…he knows better. Maybe someone overheard us talking? Maybe someone in management got wind of it and decided to control the narrative?
It doesn’t matter now. It’s out there.
I catch Griffin staring at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says, but his expression says everything. “Just trying to figure out if you were planning to tell us before social media.”
I sigh, running a hand over my face. “It wasn’t supposed to get out. Not yet.”
“But it’s true?” August asks quietly.
The room goes silent. Even Coach pauses his diagramming to look at me.
“I’m thinking about it,” I admit. “Nothing’s decided yet.”
Bodhi slumps against his stall. “Fuck, man.”
“Can we talk about this after the game?” I ask, my voice sharper than intended. “I’ve got a kid in those stands who is just finding out I’m considering retirement.”
The room settles, but I feel eyes on me from every direction. I try to push it all away—the leak, the speculation, the questions—and focus on the board as Coach walks us through third-period adjustments.
But my mind keeps sliding back to Harper and Connor. Has someone shown them the news? Does Harper think I’m doing this without confirming things with her? Is she fielding questions from other wives and girlfriends while trying to watch the game? And what about Connor? Does he know?
Fuck.
He’ll think I’m lying to him all over again because I haven’t been forthcoming with my thoughts.
This isn’t how I wanted this to go. Not with a leak. Not with speculation. Not with everyone finding out before I’d made any real decisions.
I just wanted to know my options.
I exhale slowly, trying to center myself. The leak is out there. There’s nothing I can do about it now except play the best twenty minutes of hockey I can and then deal with the fallout afterwards.
“If Connor is having a bad night Harper’s going to have my balls,” I mutter to no one in particular as I adjust my gear.
“Nah,” Bodhi says, bumping my shoulder. “She’ll just make you sleep on the couch.” He turns, wagging his brow like he thinks he’s a fucking genius. “But maybe if you offer her your balls…” He shrugs like he’s giving me the perfect suggestion to get myself out of the doghouse.
“Yeah I’m not sure that’ll be enough this time, Roche.”
The buzzer sounds for the third period, and we file out of the locker room. Griffin bumps my shoulder as we head toward the tunnel.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Whatever you decide, I got your back.”
I nod, throat tight. “Thanks.”
When I finally glance up in the stands, Harper’s on her phone. I see the way her brows knit together. The way she looks down at Connor, then back at the ice.
She’s worried.
Fuck.
And suddenly the weight of it hits me. This isn’t just my decision anymore. It’s hers. It’s Connor’s. It’s the life we’re trying to build without everything else tearing it apart first.
I should’ve told Harper I was calling Phil. I know we talked about it a couple weeks ago but I should’ve told her I just wanted to see what my options are. She’s a goddamn agent, she would’ve understood. Hell, she could’ve helped talk me through a few things.
Coach claps his hand onto my shoulder. “Lock it in, Meers. Forget the noise and just play your fucking heart out.”
