“Prior head injury? Like what?” Häkkänen parrots.
Poirier and I exchange a look. I know this is the last way Mattias would want this information to come out.
Coach Marshall sighs. “This is the first I’m hearing of it. Sounds like our man’s gonna be on the bench for a while. He’s gonna need his rest.”
My heart sinks. Benched right before the playoffs? He’s going to be beside himself.
“Shit,” Fontenot mutters, slumping forward and gripping his hair with both hands.
“Not good,” Westergren agrees.
“All you dickheads better be worried about right now is his recovery,” Poirier snaps.
Coach Marshall nods. “Agreed. The nurse said we can go up and see him now if you’d like. Visiting hours are over, but she said if you give her your name she’ll get you registered.”
The team gets to their feet—a bunch of too-tall men in this too-small lobby—and they all follow Coach Marshall to the elevators save for Poirier, who lingers behind, looking at me.
“You coming?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Keep me posted though. Let me know if anything changes.”
He nods.“I will.”
I grab my things, and as much as it tears me up inside, I force myself to leave the lobby.
Chapter 52
Freddie
I’m up early the next morning, wasting no time getting to Grace’s to finalize the rough cut of the film. I’m ready to close this horrible, depressing, shameful chapter of my life and move on. The cut doesn’t have to be perfect—there will be time for polishing, color correction, that sort of thing later—I just have to get the streamers’ eyes on it before my father has a chance to close the deal. I glance at my phone before getting dressed and find a text from Poirier.
Reeve
They’re keeping him sedated for a while to help with the swelling.
The text makes my heart sink, but I don’t have time to dwell on it now. I have a private equity firm to bury.
“Dude.” Grace opens the door on my second knock. She looks like she’s been awake all night.
“What?”
“You didn’t tell me you were making a bombshell.”
I blink at her. “If you’re not comfortable,I’m sure—”
“Shut up. I’m so here for it. I mean, if you are, obviously. It’s your family that’s gonna get their shit rocked.”
I purse my lips. I haven’t let myself dwell on what my sister and mother will think of me. I can only hope that when everything comes out, they’ll understand.
“I don’t see another way out. My name is all over this thing. If I want a chance at having a respectable career down the road, I have to own it.”
“You could ride it out, take the money, start your own production studio, and in five years, nobody is gonna remember any of this. You know these LA people have goldfish brains.” She leads me into her editing room. “Just telling you, there are other options. I wanna make sure you’ve really thought this through.”
It doesn’t feel like a choice at this point. Poirier’s accusations and something about the L-word surface in my brain. I slam that Ghoulie of a thought back in the mental toilet it came from.
I take a seat on the sofa behind her gameresque swivel chair. “Let’s just do this.”
Grace spins around, grinning like Annie Wilkes inMisery. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
