I don’t like the idea of letting him down, but he’s not the most important person in my life. My hesitation to talk to him has nothing to do with the decision I’ve made. It’s the right one, even if no one else will agree, and it’s up to me.
“Come in,” he calls. Erik sits behind his desk, clacking away on his keyboard, ignoring me as I fidget in the doorway, waiting for his attention. Finally, his fingers lift and he addresses me. “What do you need, Briggsy?”
The question is brusque but not unkind. I’m often on the receiving end of the famous Pomroy stare because I’m rarely to the point, and Erik doesn’t like to waste time. Lucky for me, I’m the kind of hockey player he likes—scrappy, unafraid, and hardworking, which buys me a pass for my antics.
I’m hoping that won’t end here.
“I need to miss practice Friday.”
Erik places his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair. “For what reason? Is it your head?”
“Oh. No, no. My head’s good. I mean, as good as it usually is… which I know you probably question—”
He holds his hands up to halt my word vomit.
“It’s for my girlfriend, sir.”
His thick dark eyebrows raise. “Girlfriend?”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “It surprised me too. She needs me tomorrow. I’ll accept whatever punishment you think is fair.”
Finley finally got her phone back a couple of days ago and learned the UPC gymnastics coach would be at her gym Friday to consider her for his team. Becoming a walk-on athlete at a Division 1 school like UPC isn’t common, but Finley’s elite gymnastics history plus the recommendation from Veronica, who’d been on the UPC gymnastics team, landed her this chance. Nothing is guaranteed other than this tryout. She didn’t ask me to be there, but she needs me.
Erik studies me. Maybe he’s waiting to see if I take it back when presented with silence, or whether I’m joking or making an impulse decision I’ll regret.
I fidget but say nothing.
“I’ll need to healthy scratch you for Saturday’s game, and you know the fine.”
It’s what I expected. There’s a pang in my gut at the idea of letting Erik Pomroy or my teammates down.
But the thought of Finley eases the guilty ache in my belly. The idea of not being there for her… well, let’s say it brings on literal sickness that wouldn’t ever pass. She’s more important.
“Yeah, I know. But she’s my family now. There are some things more important than hockey.”
A brief smile crosses his features, a flash of pearly white teeth, there and gone. “Yeah, there are.”
He’s long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the league, women still clamoring for him like they did when he was on the ice. As far as I know, he hasn’t been in a relationship since his divorce though.
“Harris!” Erik shouts abruptly, then motions toward himself with his palm. My stomach plummets;of course,Matt is walking past the office at this moment.
“Yeah, Coach?”
I stiffen at the sound of Matt’s voice. I keep my back to him, hoping Coach will make this interaction quick.
“Briggsy’s missing practice Friday. Says he’s got an obligation to his girlfriend. He’ll owe the standard fine. And he’s not playing Saturday, of course.”
There's a long pause. Guys miss practice and games for family emergencies and their kids’ births, not forgirlfriends. Will Matt's curiosity win out over his anger long enough for him to ask me for an explanation?
“All right,” Matt says.
He collects fines and keeps them in a safe in his locker. At the end of the season, the team votes on which player embodied the Wolves culture the best through the season, and the fine money affords them a nice vacation. It’s essentially a way to honor the toughest motherfucker in the room—the guy who gutted out injuries, who consistently busted his ass, who brought good energy to the locker room. Volk won last year, and he took Kennedy to Spain. Not that he couldn’t afford it without thewinnings, but still. It’s the meaning, the respect of your team, that matters.
Erik nods once, then redirects his attention to his computer screen. “We’re good,” he says to me after a beat.
“Right,” I reply, giving him a salute.
Pictures of his family catch my attention as I shuffle out of the room. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised my news didn’t anger him.
