"She didn't call me out. She assassinated my character."
"Did she lie?"
"She told half the truth." I reply quickly.
"Then tell her the other half." Maya sighs. "Look, I know you're pissed. You have every right to be, but maybe this is an opportunity. To show everyone including yourself, that you're better than Dad's reputation. Better than the Lynch legacy."
I want to argue. I want to defend myself, my father, the family name.
But Maya's the only person who can see through my bullshit. Who knows that beneath the captain persona and the aggressive play style, I'm terrified of becoming Richard Lynch.
Cold. Controlling. Unable to see people as anything other than assets or obstacles.
"I'll try," I manage.
"That's all I'm asking." She pauses. "I'm thinking about visiting soon. Spring break maybe. Get away from home for a bit."
My stomach drops. Maya hasn't been doing well. Not since last year. Since the attempt that we don't talk about but that haunts every conversation.
"You sure that's a good idea? The drive is long?—"
"I'll fly and yes, I'm sure. I need to see you. Make sure you're okay." Her voice softens. "We both need to make sure we're okay."
"Yeah. Okay. Let me know when and I'll pick you up from the airport."
"Love you, Carter."
"Love you too."
She hangs up, and I'm left sitting in the empty gym with my thoughts.
My phone buzzes. Text from Coach Davis:Team meeting, 3pm. Mandatory. We need to discuss the article.
Great. Another round of defending myself.
I shower and head to my morning classes, Psychology of Motivation and Sports Ethics, ironically. The whispers start the moment I walk across campus.
Everyone's read the article. Everyone has an opinion.
By the time I get to the athletic center for afternoon practice, I'm ready to hit something. The team is already in the locker room when I arrive. The energy is tense. Angry.
"Captain." Tyler Morrison, my right wing, looks up from tying his skates. "We read the article."
"Yeah. I figured." I say lazily.
"We need to respond. Show that bitch she can't?—"
"Don't." My voice cuts through the room. "Don't call her that. And we're not responding with anything except playing our best hockey."
"She trashed us. Made us look like criminals."
"She reported on shit that happened years ago. Some of it is accurate, some of it is outdated." I drop my bag and start changing. "The best response is proving her wrong. Not by arguing, but by being better."
"So we just take it?" Another voice. Jackson, a sophomore who's been pushing boundaries all season.
"No. We fix it. Starting now." I look around the room. "Anyone here still think hazing freshmen is acceptable?"
Silence.
