I give him a half-smile before I ask my last question. Please, God, let it be a no.
“Has coach seen it?” I ask, and I can’t keep the wobble out of my voice.
“No, he has not. Jos and I agreed that there is absolutely no need for anyone else to see them. Not now, not ever. I can promise you that.”
My relief is immediate, and I relax at the finality of his declaration. It hits me that Damon I someone I can trust. In all my time with the Wolves, that’s never happened, and that terrible sense of shame that’s been haunting me for years isn’t taking up space in the back of my mind. I’m strangely at ease with myself and my position on this team.
“I’m always here if you need to talk, Liam. It doesn’t even need to be about this. I’m happy to be a sounding board if you need one. I just have to ask that you do me one favor.”
“At this point you don’t even have to ask. What can I do?”
“No more fistfight with teammates, please? While I understand last night was unavoidable, I’d appreciate it we didn’t use that as the standard for conflict resolution going forward?” he says with a wry grin. I chuckle because I knew there would be a reprimand in there somewhere, but this one is fairly tame.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I lost my head, but in hindsight, I’m not sure I would have been able to avoid a physical fight with Bell. Something about it felt inevitable. But I want to assure you, that’s not my go to when dealing with conflict. I promise.”
“I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have done the same. Which is why I won’t berate you for it. I think you’re already beating yourself up enough.” Damon with a penetrating look. He’s not wrong. “Why don’t we just put it all in the past and move forward?”
“What’s going to happen with Bell?” Please tell me he’s out. Damon’s mouth turns down, and he tenses up.
“I can’t say anything right now, other than to tell you he won’t be at practice today or tomorrow. I’m working on a permanent solution and I hope to have that worked out in a couple of days. Sorry but that’s all I can tell you. Trust me, I want him out of here too.” I do trust him, so I’ll let it go for now. It’s enough that he won’t be a practice.
“I do. Trust you, I mean.”
“I appreciate that Liam. I promise, I’ll handle it.”
Damon lightens things up with a discussion of our pre-season schedule, giving me some time to wind down from the heaviness of our earlier conversation, and by the time I leave, I feel lighter than I’ve felt in a very long time. Suddenly, I’m looking forward to practice like I never have before, and it feels pretty damn good.
As I walk out to my car, I text the captains’ group chat so I can give them a heads-up about Austin’s absence. I’m already fielding replies before I get out the front door.
Burnsy:Something happen last night? Rumors abound.
Coop:Can we stick to hockey?
Liam:Need to talk b4 practice
Orly:Why no one gives me gossip? I do not like this.
Burnsy:?? Are all Russians this dramatic?
Orly:
Coop:I hate it here.
Liam:30 min b4 conf rm b. Ill explain
Burnsy:You better. Now I have stress.
Liam:?? UR fine, drama king
Burnsy:?? Why is everyone so mean to me.
Orly:Who is dramatic now?
Madison
Did I sleep last night? Nope. Not a wink. I tossed and turned for hours before just getting up to clean, because that’s what I do when I get all up in my feelings. I clean. Was my apartment already immaculate? Yes, it was, but I scrubbed it again. I even scoured the oven. Not only was I out of control, but I probably need therapy.
While I clean, I wallow in my shame spiral. Every mean, derogatory thing I said about Liam rolling around in my head, over and over like a film reel. Every thoughtless word, my disparaging tone of voice, and the absolute derision I displayed. It was awful. I was awful.
