Larsen shrugs his wide shoulders. “You can’t expect me to wait after we just got news like that!”
“Do either of you children want to clue me in?” A nervous energy snaking up the back of my neck. I glance between the two men. Something doesn’t feel right here.
“Coach is suspended!” The declaration bursts from Larsen like he just couldn’t hold it in any longer, but then it sits, suspended in the middle of the room.
“Coach… Shaw?” I ask, naming the forwards coach, who I always felt was a little too sure of himself. I could see him getting up to some shady shit.
Li shakes his head, his eyes wide as he looks at me.
“Coach Blake,” Larsen says, and it’s like I’m hit square in the chest by a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound opponent moving at a full sprint.
They’re both watching me, and I can’t tell if it’s because they expect me to already know, or if they suspect I had something to do with it.
“Why?” I ask, dropping onto the couch behind me as my legs all but give out.
Li starts doing something on his phone as Larsen turns back to the windows.
“They won’t tell us!” Larsen complains. “I stopped by her office today, and Paige said she was out for the next few weeks. It was only after I asked about five hundred questions that she finally admitted that Coach was on temporary suspension while they investigated a self-reported possible conflict of interest.”
Holy fucking shit.
That can’t be…
Then one word hits me. Self-reported.
She did this.
But why?
“Here,” Li says, sitting down next to me and holding his phone out. “The email from the team. You should’ve gotten it, too.And then here—” He swipes to a news app. “This is the official announcement they released about twenty minutes ago.”
I skim through the public statement first, words like “temporary administrative leave” and “self-reported potential conflict of interest,” sticking out as I skim through the three sentences.
My insides are a mess of emotions. Is this about us? It can’t be, right? Why the fuck would she tell them? We ended things so we could avoid this exact situation. If she gets fired, everything—the longing I’ve pushed aside, the evenings alone, the deep hunger for her that I tell myself isn’t real—it’s all been for nothing.
Or what if it’s not about you? Maybe she’s getting some sponsorship deal that crossed a line. Maybe it’s a super benign conflict, like the team wants to bring her dad on as an advisor or something. Or maybe I’m not the first player she’s slept with—I shake my head, dislodging the thought I know is a lie. I wasn’t one of many. I—we—were something special. So, even though I’m not certain that I’m what she’s confessing, I know there aren’t loads of other men out there.
The comments section is already chaos, speculation ranging from basically nothing, to preferential treatment because of her father, to the league covering up the fact she’s having a baby with one of her players.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this nauseous.
Unable to stomach the toxic speculation, I pull up the email from White on my phone, handing Li’s back to him. The message is essentially the same. Temporary leave. The organization is conducting a review. It’s “procedural in nature.”
I let out a choked laugh when I reach the line that says, “We ask that all players and staff refrain from speculation.” Yeah. Like that will happen. Hockey players are bigger gossips than a women’s coffee group.
“Don’t laugh,” Larsen demands, shaking his head. “This is a big deal. I mean, Coach is the squeakiest clean person I’ve ever met. She turned herself in, for fuck’s sake. What if she leaves? What if she gets fired? What if they get a new coach who trades me?” He drops his forehead to the window. “What if they bring up Shaw, and we have to listen to him showboat about how great he is every time he’s on camera?”
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, not really believing it.
I hope this is just something minor. Because if she fucking told them about us… she’dburnfor it.
An all-too-realistic image of Finley tied to a stake in the middle of the ice, while fans in Yeti jerseys throw fireballs at her, pops into my mind, and I almost sob.
She wouldn’t put herself at risk like that, would she?For you, she mightcomes unbidden to my mind, but I know that can’t be true. We could’ve stayed together and kept it secret until I retired, but she said no.
I clench my fists. She ended things with me to prevent this exact situation. So maybe this isn’t about us. Maybe this isn’t about what I pushed us toward. What she tried so hard to avoid, and I literally followed her into a snowstorm to convince her to do.
“This might be my fault.” I clear my throat, the guilt sitting on my chest needing somewhere to go. I know I should be trying to pull those words back in, but—shit—I trust these two. Somewhere along the way, they became the first real friends I’ve had in a long time.
