The voice is deep, jovial, confident, and one I’ve been hearing as long as I’ve heard my own parents’ voices. My head snaps up and walking toward me is my uncle Devin.
He's dressed in a light gray suit with a mic clipped to his lapel too. I stand up, dropping my phone onto the chair and trying not to let my jaw hit the concrete floor. The floor feels like it’s wobbling because my knees are on the verge of buckling from surprise—and fear.
He doesn’t notice and, grinning, pulls me into a bear hug. I wrap my arms around him too, because what the hell else can I do? Faint? Yeah, that feels like something I want to do, but I can’t. I shoot a glare at Christine over Uncle Devin’s shoulder. “Hey! Wow!” I say, hoping my voice isn’t as clogged with terror as my heart is. “If I’d known you were the one doing the interview I would have been later, and I wouldn’t have bothered with my best suit.”
“If that’s your best, then you need a new stylist,” Devin jokes and ruffles my hair like I’m six again. I swat his hand away good naturally and he hugs me again.
Oh God. Oh fuck. I step back from the hug and mentally give my head a shake. It’s fine. It’s just an interview. I can handle this. Devin grins. “When they asked me to do this, I couldn’t wait. You know your dad still gloats about that record but when we were playing together it was his constant dig. He knew I was horrible at killing power plays, so it was the one record that I wouldn’t be able to beat.”
“Well, you did pretty good being the Barons’ Captain and getting your name on the Cup three times,” I remind him.
He grins. “You think you might be the next Garrison to add your name to that trophy?”
He moves toward the chairs and so I follow beside him. The cameras are rolling and have been since before he walked down the hall. I realize the ‘test’ was them setting up this little surprise. I wonder, irrationally, if they could see my screen while I was typing.
“I’m not the only Garrison who is going to be in the playoffs,” I remind my uncle AKA the ESPN reporter, as I reach for my phone, which I carelessly put on his stool not my own. “Conner, Grady, and Theo will also probably be in the first round this year.”
“You’ll have to face Grady in the first round,” Devin grabs my phone before I can. He passes it to me, casually, like it’s no big deal. But he looks down and sees Dylan’s photo. His eyes fly up to mine and he grins. “Wait… do you have your own baby picture as your screen saver?”
Oh fuck.
I swallow but my throat is closing like I’m in some kind of anaphylactic shock. I cough a little. Devin laughs. “I haven’t seen this one. It’s adorable, but I’m surprised there isn’t a hockey stick in it. You used to carry around this plastic one everywhere you went.”
He starts to hold it up toward the camera. I try and grab it from his hand, but he still has quick reflexes and manages to keep it from me. So I plaster a wooden smile on my face. “No one needs to see my goofy baby face.”
"Want to? They need to!" Devin grins and I want to punch him, which is unfair. He's a great uncle and he's just doing his job. He starts to turn my phone to the screen again but I manage to grab it this time, covering it with my palm ripping it from his grip, and sliding it into my pocket.
I turn to the camera “You better be splashing a picture of baby Grady on national television too if you interview him. Maybe that will throw him off his game if we face him in round one.”
I watch my uncle's hazel eyes flicker with something that breaks through his sportscaster face, but it's gone before anyone registers it. He motions for us to both finally sit down. "I know before we all ended up on the same team it was a mixed bag of emotions when I had to face your dad or your Uncle Luc. I wanted to win, but I hated to beat them. Is it the same with your cousins?"
I nod. “Yeah, I mean, ultimately I want us all to have our names on the Cup. I know they feel the same, but… one of us has to be first. Might as well be me.”
Devin laughs. Hell, the whole crew and even Christine laugh. The interview is back on track. It goes on for another ten minutes, and we talk about the short-handed goals record and growing up with my dad playing, and pond hockey with the cousins. It’s a perfect interview, on the outside. Fans love the family dynasty thing and Devin is a charismatic interviewer.
But every moment is a vortex of misery for me because all I can think about is that picture of Dylan on national television. How clear was it? Who will see it? I mean, my family will because I'd bet all I own that they're all watching. They all knew about this surprise interview before I did. Maybe not Tenley. She wouldn't have hidden this from me, but my uncles and aunts would have known. And my parents.
Finally, Devin wraps it up, wishing me luck for the shorty record and the impending playoffs and we hug instead of shaking hands. "Cut!" the cameraman calls out.
Devin turns to him. “You guys get that footage straight to head office. They want to run it tonight after the game.”
“Can you cut the baby photo stuff out?”
“No! It was adorable!” Christine argues and her bright red lips are parted in a grin. “Can I see the photo again? We can put it on our website when we link to the piece. In fact, it gave me an idea to do a whole baby photo thing with the entire team.”
“I wish Conner played for you guys. I have a great one of him covered in birthday cake,” Devin chuckles.
“I’ll send you a copy or something,” I mutter to Christine. I grab my uncle’s arm. “Can we talk? Do you have a second? Alone.”
He nods and we start down the hall. The problem is we aren't in a private area. The guys on both teams have started wandering in so there are people at both ends of the curving hallway. I walk to the medical room. It's used when someone gets a hit to the head during the game as the concussion protocol space. Or if someone needs stitches. I pull Devin into the room and close the door.
“You can’t show that photo.”
He blinks and really looks at me. I can feel him taking in my panic and agitation. He cocks his head to one side. “Okay. Why?”
“Because.”
“Tate. I don’t have any control over the back end of interviews,” Devin tells me.
