“I’m done for. When Coach and management see this, there’s no way they won’t fire me.” Another text message comes in as we sit down. “It’s Coach. He wants me in his office at noon.”
We stare at each other until the server comes to take our order a moment later. I order food even though I’ve lost my appetite.
“Want me to go in with you?”
“If you think it’ll hel—” His phone chirps with another message.
“Shit. He wants me in there at noon too.” Shaking his head, he sets his phone down and waits in silence for his food to arrive.
I, being a glutton for punishment, watch the video on repeat. I keep the volume lowered, even though Davidson knows I’mtorturing myself over here. It doesn’t matter though; the volume is unnecessary. The look on Bryce’s face is the only thing I focus on. I really hope I didn’t fuck this up already.
The knock of Davidson’s knuckles on the door seems much louder just knowing I’m about to get my ass reamed and possibly lose my job.
“Get in here.”
Great, this sounds like fun.
“Hey, Coach,” we say simultaneously.
“Don’t ‘hey Coach’ me. What the hell do you think you’re doing, not giving me a heads-up about this fiasco?”
“Sir, we didn’t want to wake you in the middle of the night, and we were already headed here when you texted us. Since you told us to meet you here at noon, we stopped for breakfast on the way.” Davidson is my hero right now. “We got the alerts about the video posts when you did.”
“Davidson, you’re over-explaining your excuses. Stop bullshitting me. Tell me all the details about thefightso I know what to say to management.”
My cuticles are taking a beating as I sit here listening to Davidson tell Coach what happened. Coach keeps his eyes trained on me the whole time—he knows what he’s doing to me. Davidson gives a detailed account of the entire night before he gets to the actual fight. Hearing it from someone else’s point ofview, I feel pretty dumb for reacting the way I did. Bryce must hate me by now.
When he gets to the end of the story, he adds on, “Bodie had a momentary lack of judgment, Coach. He normally wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” A smile escapes me, and I immediately retract it when Coach’s lips get even straighter than before.
“So, your jealousy is going to get you canned if I can’t save your ass. Is that what he’s telling me, Foster?”
“Yes, sir.”
The air is thick with tension as Coach stares us both down. I swear I can hear each of our heartbeats pounding separately in the quiet room. Just when I’m about to apologize and beg for his help, he says, “I already spoke with management. You’re being put on probation. One more incident like this and you’re gone, you hear me?”
“Thank you, Coach.” The fifty-pound weight that was on my chest just fell off, and I can breathe again. The thought of losing my job, my dream—I don’t know what I would’ve done.
“Miller is trying to get the video taken down, but don’t get too excited. That thing will keep popping up.” He’s right; these things tend to resurface when you least expect it. “You owe Miller one for the work she’s doing to make this go away.”
“Will do, sir.”
“And next time you get jealous, talk to your boyfriend like a grown-ass adult. You need those hands to stop pucks, dammit.”
“Thanks, Coach. It won’t happen again.”
We both turn and quickly leave his office before he can change his mind.
“Did that really just happen?”
“Don’t test fate. Just walk, and think about it later.”
I’ve never been so relieved to hear Davidson’s truck doors closing. I feel like I’ve finally entered a safe place, away from what I thought was going to be a soul-crushing meeting.
“Emmett.” My friend’s wide eyes land on me. “Thank you.”
With a half-smile and a slight bow of his head, Davidson starts his truck, and the sound of his favorite song fills the cab’s space. Then he does something I’ve seen him do only a couple times in the five years I’ve known him—he sings like he’s alone in the shower with no one listening.
Chapter Eighteen
