Page 62 of The Puck Bunny

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He shrugs. “The point is, you need to deal with it. You have someone to talk to?”

I have no idea how to answer the question. My mind wanders, the faces of people I know popping in and out, none of them fitting the role. Until I come to one face with a sweet smile. Sara Bellagamba.

“Yeah.”

“If not, I’d suggest a professional. I have a couple of names of people who’ve worked with players in the past. Whatever you do, don’t ignore it. Don’t push it away without dealing with the loss and everything that it might entail, all the feelings, not just sorrow.”

“Shit, Coach. You moonlight as a therapist?”

He scoffs, “Son, being a therapist is a requirement for coaching.” He stands and so do I. “Carry on. Let me know if you need a name.” He clears his throat and adds in a gruff voice, “Or if you want to talk to me.”

I thank him and leave, my gut riled up and a sharp pain stabbing me between my shoulder blades. As I leave the office, I see Jonas waiting for me at the end of the hallway. When I reach him, he steps in line with me and we head for the garage.

“Everything okay?” he asks. He might even sincerely care.

“Sure. Nothing I can’t handle. Scoring slump. I’ll get through it. What about you?”

He looks down as we walk. “I took the paternity test.”

I stop and grab his arm. “Slow down. This is serious shit. Are you—”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know the results yet.”

He knows deep down; I can see it in his eyes. “When do you find out?”

“Friday. After the game. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

He stops talking and I wait him out. He looks miserable. His problem helps me keep what I have going on in perspective. I can handle my family and hockey. A kid? That’s a whole different thing.

“Whatever you need, bro,” I say to encourage him. He obviously needs something from me.

He takes a deep breath. “Mindy wanted to meet in public and read the results together.” He snorts. “She doesn’t trust me not to bolt or ghost her if we’re not face-to-face with witnesses. Her words.” He looks at me, confusion, guilt and panic warring it out.

I take his arm. “Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. I’m sure there’s a way to handle things so that you can have your career, and your life will go on. Probably better than before.”

He barks. “Thanks. She wants to meet at The Tea Party after tomorrow night’s game for the reveal—that’s what she’s calling it—the paternity reveal.” He shakes his head and looks like he wants to cry.

“You want me to go with you?”

He nods. “Yeah, man. That would be cool.” He looks up again. “I’d really appreciate it. I mean, I’m sorry I’m dragging you into all my shit, but you kind of asked for it when you started giving me shit about Mindy.”

“I did. It’s no problem. I’ll be there.”

He nods and smiles with some relief. “Thanks, man.” He turns to walk away to his car, but then turns back. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sure you’ll figure out your scoring slump.” He gives me a smirk like he already has it figured out.

I’m not sure what it says about where my head is when I have to stop myself from asking if Sara will be at the paternity reveal.

I need to avoid her and it’s easy enough not to cross paths with her—except in my dreams. I shouldn’t be having those dreams. They’re just perpetuating my lust for a woman I can’t touch. It’s bad enough I let things go as far as they have.

Fuck.

Hockey and family. Focus. Deal with Dad’s death.

Fuck no. Not now. Not in the middle of the fucking hockey season.

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