“I think that’s all we have time for today.” Cassie, our PR woman, appears at my side. “Thanks, Franklin.”
He takes his dismissal better than I would have. TheDenver Tribunereporter caught me in the tunnel before I made it to the locker room. Which makes me like him even less.
“Cassie—”
“Not now, Cash.” Her heels click on the tunnel floor as I follow her back to the locker room. “Clean up and meet me outside when you’re done.”
Fuck me.
Just what I want after a hard game. A conversation with our PR manager. No doubt I’m going to get my ass handed to me for my responses in that interview.
From day one, we’re given a strict lesson on how to deal with the press so we don’t paint ourselves or the team in a bad light. Sometimes, it’s just hard to handle after a tough loss.
As if it’s not bad enough that we got beat on home ice tonight, but also answering inane questions from reporters? It’s the last thing I want to deal with.
“Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there.” A small body bumps into me. I look down at Noah Fields’s little sister. A bright smile is pasted on her face and blonde hairs stick to her cheeks. “Sorry about the loss, Cash. You’ll get ’em next time.”
“You know we lost, right?”
“I know.” She looks too chipper for the team losing. “You still have a winning record. One of the best in the league. I think you’ll bounce back.”
“You’re about the only one.”
“Cash! Don’t keep me waiting!” Cassie barks at me before heading down the hall that leads to the corporate offices.
“Sorry. Guess you need to go.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t let them get you down.” Piper gives my forearm a squeeze.
I don’t respond, but watch as she heads toward the training room. There’s a pep in her step that’s hard to ignore. I shouldn’t be ogling her. She’s my teammate’s little sister. But damn, does she have an ass on her.
When the door clicks shut, I shake off the ass-induced fog and head into the locker room. Instead ofthe jubilant, postgame celebration of a win, heads are hanging.
Some losses are harder than others. Losing to an opponent—one that we assumed would be an easy win—is always hard.
Walking around the Black Diamonds logo that covers the carpeted floor made to look like the ice rink in the arena, I head to my locker. From the day I walked into the arena, I was told it was bad luck to walk on the Black Diamonds logo. Maybe someone walked on it and that’s the reason we lost.
I drop onto the padded leather bench seat in front of my locker.
Wooden lockers, lit up from above, line the room. The light has a blue tint to it for our team colors. Except tonight, it highlights the way everyone is feeling.
It smells like sweat and regret in here.
“Not the result any of us wanted tonight, men.” Coach Barney isn’t overly emotional. Only a big win or loss will get a reaction from him. Clearly that reporter needed to come talk to Coach B. If he’s not worked up about one loss, why should the rest of us be?
“We’ll take a look at the film tomorrow and see what mistakes we can clean up. Don’t let this loss settle in. Brush it off. Tomorrow is a new day.”
Maybe if I had said that to the reporter, I wouldn’t have to go talk to Cassie. It’s all adding to my mood taking a nosedive. I grab my towel and hit the showers.
Steam fills the shower room from guys already in here. I ignore all of them and find the last stall at the end. Where I always go after a game—win or lose.
I hate losses like this. Any loss sucks. You never want to be on the wrong end of a game when the final horn blows.
Especially when that voice comes back into my head.The one that tells me I didn’t play well and let my team down. How I’m a waste of space.
Fuck. This is why losses get to me even more some days.
