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“You’ve been with the team a while, right?” I asked, keeping my eyes on my task.
“Three years. I came up through the farm system.”
“So you know the team culture pretty well. Who hangs out together, that kind of thing.”
“Most of us are pretty close. Why?”
I kept my voice light, overlapping another strip of tape. “I’m trying to get a feel for the dynamics. My last fellowship was with a team that had some complicated interpersonal stuff. It made my job harder when players wouldn’t work with me because I was friends with someone they didn’t like.”
“Ah, yeah. That makes sense. This team’s pretty easygoing, actually. We do dinners sometimes, team events. Most guys bring their families if they have them.”
“That’s good. What about the single guys? Do they…” I measured out another length of tape, buying myself time to make this sound professional. “I heard there can be issues sometimes. Players with reputations that create problems in the workplace.”
Veskar’s eyebrow went up. “You mean like harassment stuff?”
“Well, you know. Players who cycle through a lot of relationships. Drama that spills into the facility.” I pressed the tape down, smoothing it carefully. “At my last place, we had a guy who was always bringing different women around, and it got awkward fast. I just want to know what I’m walking into here.”
“Oh.” He thought about it. “Honestly? We don’t really have that. Although, I guess Kedish has a reputation.”
My hands didn’t pause, but everything in me went still. “What kind of reputation?”
“People say he goes through women, never dates anyone seriously.” Veskar shrugged. “But I’ve been here three years, and I’ve never actually seen him with anyone. Like, ever. He doesn’t even talk about dating.”
“But the rumors—”
“Are bullshit as far as I can tell.” Veskar’s grin had vanished. “Look, I don’t know who started the rumors about Kedish, but I’ve never seen him leave with anyone. Not once. He’s actually kind of private, I guess. He mostly keeps to himself.”
“Then why does everyone think he’s like that?”
“Because he’s big and scary-looking and plays brutally?” Veskar shrugged. “People see what they expect to see. And if you’re a seven-foot-plus orc who can stop a slap shot with your face, everyone assumes you’re out there collecting puck bunnies for fun when the game is over.”
I finished the last strip of tape, my hands fairly steady, though inside, everything was flipping around. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not, but that’s how it works.” He tested his ankle, rotating it slowly. “Kedish is a good person. One of the best guys on this team, actually. He just doesn’t advertise it.”
So he was not a player.
He blew me off because… Well, I knew why.
I stepped back. “You’re good to go. Keep icing it, and we’ll take it day by day. I think you’ll be ready come playoffs. If it bothers you at all, let me know.”
“I will. Thanks, Doc.”
He left, and I sat at the desk, staring at my notes without seeing them.
If Brashe wasn’t the person I’d thought he was, his reputation was bullshit, and the charity work was real, then what had happened at the picnic?
It was probably all about me. My size and shape.
Which sucked.
By the time four PM rolled around, I’d seen seven other players, updated a mountain of charts, and consumed enough coffee that my hands had a faint tremor. And I still couldn’t stop thinking about Brashe bringing sandwiches to the park.
None of it matched the asshole from the picnic who’d looked at me like I was a punchline he didn’t have time to explain.
He walked in right at four, looking tired.
“How’s the pain level?” I asked, pulling on fresh gloves.
