“Smart kid.”
“I think he’s the same age as me.”
“You’re a kid, too.”
“I’m thirty.”
“Ancient, never mind.” He sounds like he’s in an extraordinarily good mood.
“Are you cooking with something here, Tom?”
“No, no. Just having some fun. There’s no chance you get traded as long as you’re playing well.”
“We lost tonight.”
“And you might not have lost if you had more O-zone starts.”
I groan. Tom knows I don’t like Wilson, and we’ve talked before about how he has some latitude to talk about that on background with insiders. But now the stakes are so much more complicated. “Hey, listen…I don’t want you to fuck with the coach.”
He’s quiet for a minute. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah.”
“Why? You aren’t being utilized in a way that optimizes your strengths.”
In the past, I just accepted that the man doesn’t like me for whatever reason. And now I have other reasons for not wanting to worsen that relationship.
But Tom’s right that Wilson’s outdated systems are handcuffing my trade prospects if GMs aren’t seeing a nightly display of my talent in an optimized way.
I sigh. “Tread carefully. Wilson doesn’t like me, and if we make it into the playoffs, I don’t want the tension between us to become a story.”
“Fair enough.”
The light in my garage turns on as I pull into the driveway, the door sliding up to reveal the wide open empty space where I park my truck. My house is too big for just me, but I usually like taking up the middle of an empty two-car garage.
Tonight, it’s just a reminder that I’m really fucking far away from Frankie.
I text her that I’m home, and she calls before I’m out of the truck.
“Hi,” I say with a deep exhale. Just seeing her face makes some of the tension bleed out of my shoulders.
“Hi,” she says softly. Then she frowns. “Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re not?—”
I groan.“You watched tonight.”
She winces. “Yes.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“But I like knowing you’re watching. And I’m not a grouchy asshole after a loss, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
She just nods, because I told her I don’t want to talk about it, but now I’m talking about it.
“So this is my garage.” I angle the phone so she can see.
“You drive a truck!”
