“Maybe you have. I appreciate it. This project means a lot to her. And I know you two have had your issues. But I’m hopingnow that she and your brother are back together, it can be water under the bridge.”
“Ancient history,” I confirm.
“Good. That’s good.” He nods. “I’ve always warned her against hockey players. But can’t say Kendall has ever listened to anything I said. Maybe you can teach her a thing or two.”
I swallow hard. “Maybe.”
He waves his hand, moving on. “Anyway, that’s not why I called you in here. Dennis wants to have dinner tonight. Discuss your contract situation.”
The shift is so abrupt that it takes me a second to catch up. “Tonight?”
“Seven o’clock. That steak house on Sixty-Fourth Street he likes. I’ll be there too.” Coach pins me with a look. “This is important, Patterson. The owner doesn’t take meetings like this unless he’s serious about making a deal.”
“I had plans tonight.”
“Cancel them.”
It’s not a request.
I think about the salmon defrosting in my fridge, about how Kendall smiled when I told her I’d cook for her tonight. This was supposed to be our first real date. Not fucking, not fighting, just being together and talking like normal people.
“Patterson.” Coach’s voice comes out like a bark. “This is your career. Your future. Whatever plans you have can wait until next week. This is important.”
He’s right. That’s the worst part. I can’t argue without explaining why tonight matters so much.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He stands, signaling the conversation is over. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”
I leave his office with my jaw clenched so tight that my teeth ache. The relief of not being caught has already faded, replaced by the weight of what I have to do next.
I check my phone as I walk. An ESPN notification catches my eye—Damien Blackwell confident, heading into the final stretch: “I’m coming for that points record, Patty.”I swipe it away because I don’t have the bandwidth for his bullshit right now. Though I’d love to pound my frustrations out on his fucking face.
I find Kendall in the hallway and grab her elbow, pulling her into the equipment storage closet with me. I’m still in my practice clothes, sweat already dried.
“Patterson, what the hell?—”
It’s dark except for the sliver of light under the door. The space is tight, crammed with spare sticks and pads. She smells like vanilla, and it’s become my favorite thing.
“Are you actually insane?” She shoves at my chest, but there’s nowhere for me to go. “Someone could have seen that.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should care. My dad is literally down the hall?—”
“I have to cancel tonight.”
She goes still, and her fingers curl into my shirt, gripping tighter instead of pushing me away. “What?”
“The owner wants to meet about my contract. Your dad told me I have to be at dinner at seven.” I can barely see her face in the dark, but I feel her body stiffen against mine. “I don’t have a choice.”
The silence that follows is worse than yelling. I can handle her anger; I don’t know what to do with her disappointment.
“Okay.”
“That’s it? Just okay?”
“What do you want me to say, Patterson?” She sounds tired. “It’s your career. It’s important. Go have dinner with my father and talk about your future.”
