“It’s a recovery day.” Which for me means stretching, rehab, sauna, ice baths, or any of the other methods the Mayhem club throws money at to keep us—their prized investments—in peak shape.
Normally, I mix it up. But today, after dealing with lawyers and team politics, I know I’m going to need an ice bath and to sweat it out.
“Probably hit some light weights, sit in the sauna, maybe get an IV to replenish whatever I’ve burned through.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He pulls his robe tighter and leans against the counter. “You can find me downstairs at Meghan’s apartment.”
“You’re still seeing her?”
He snorts. “Seeing is a loaded term. I’m certainlyseeingher, alright.”
I roll my eyes as he salutes me. “Good luck, man. See you tonight.”
I nod and head out, making my way to the private elevator in our building. It takes me down to the lobby, where old man Lawrence, the doorman, is standing at his post.
He’s in his seventies, but he knows all of us hockey players by name. This building might not have the tightest security, but it’s in a prime location to the stadium, and none of us would stand for anyone replacing Lawrence.
“How you doing, son?” he asks, his voice gruff but kind. To him, we’re all his “honorary sons.”
“Not great,” I admit, stopping by the door and shoving my hands into my pockets. “On my way to meet with the new lawyer. Hoping they can help me beat this case and turn my reputation around.”
Lawrence nods knowingly, pulling open the door for me. The icy January air hits my face, sharp and biting, like a cold embrace I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
It reminds me of home in Canada. Of the rinks where I’ve played for decades. Of the countless hours spent skating, practicing the sport that I love and the only constant I've ever had in my life.
“You got this,” he says firmly. “Stay strong. Stay true to yourself. We’ve all got your back. The whole city is behind you.”
I nod, appreciating the advice even though I doubt he knows what I’m being accused of. I also doubt he knows that some of the city isn’t behind me anymore. Because when people find out, they don’t usually offer words of encouragement. They’re too busy blaming me for something that wasn’t my fault. Or telling me that I need to be careful about the company I keep.
And that's probably sound advice. I do need to be better about allowing myself to get dragged into my teammate’s antics. I should probably find some friends outside of hockey who know how to have a good time without alcohol, women and a brawl.
And most of all, I should probably justfocus on hockey.Cut out women and alcohol, not sure what more I can cut out.
I pound knuckles with Lawrence as I step out into the cold, shoving my hands deep into my pant pockets.
It’s only a five-block walk to theLaw Offices of Prescott and Associates, but the biting January wind has me second-guessing the distance by the time I hit the second block and feel my shoes slip against the pavement.
The building isn’t hard to spot—it’s impossible to miss with its revolving doors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a constant flow of people spilling in and out. I'm just surprised I've never noticed it before given its close proximity to the rink and my apartment.
The suits outside the building are no joke. All tailored, pressed, and probably worth more than my entire closet. Everyone’s got Bluetooth earpieces jammed in their ears, barking orders like they’re saving lives.
A steady line of taxis idles out front, engines puffing little clouds into the frozen air as passengers shuffle in and out for their morning commute.
I can already tell I’m going to hate this place. It even looks expensive. This is why I liked working with the team’s lawyer. They handled things quietly, efficiently, and with minimal involvement from me. No stuffy boardroom meetings with people in suits involved.
I check my phone and see a text from my mom in the group with my brother’s.
Mom: Love you, Boone. Chin up. These new lawyers will see just how great you are and turn this all around!
Levi: I think the words that the headlines used was ‘irresponsible, out of control and reckless.’
Seth: Did you see the photos, mom? He was holding a knife to that guy’s throat!
Levi: I gasped when I saw it.
Mom: Leave him alone.
Boone: I hate you all.
