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"One more thing. Her side sent over a revised ask this morning. She wants the lake house."

"She can have it."

"Don't say that to me like it costs nothing. It's leverage."

"I don't want leverage, Saul. I want it done."

"I know you do," he says, gentler than he usually lets himself sound. "Go play hockey. Call me after."

I hang up and stand there for a second with the phone against my chest. The lake house has a dock I built with my father the summer before I got drafted. Laurel never liked the lake. She said the loons kept her up. She can have the loons, too.

Priya from media relations catches me in the hallway at ten to four with a printout and the expression of a woman who's already had this conversation in her head twice.

"They'll ask about the filing first," she says, walking backward in front of me. "Then they'll ask about the kid."

"What kid."

She gives me a look over the top of the paper. "Your new winger. Number one overall. The one who told a camera crew this morning he's going to score on his first shift."

"He said that?"

"He said it on camera, with his whole chest. Then he said he'd dedicate it to his mother and 'all the gays in Rimouski.' It's doing numbers."

"Great."

"Owen." She stops walking, so I have to stop too. "You don't have to be charming. Just don't be a cautionary tale."

The scrum is set up in front of the logo wall, eight or nine cameras and a forest of phones. I stand where the tape on the floor tells me to stand. The first question comes from the Tribune guy, which feels like a choice.

"Owen, the disclosure that went public this afternoon. Any reaction?"

"I'm focused on the season. I'd ask people to respect my family's privacy during a difficult time."

"Laurel's attorney has said the settlement talks are⁠—"

"I'm focused on the season."

"Is there any chance the divorce affects your⁠—"

"Next question," Priya says pleasantly, from somewhere behind the cameras.

A woman from one of the streaming outlets leans in. "Rémy Castel said this morning he wants to be the first openly gay player to score in his debut. How's he fitting in with the room?"

I know what she's actually asking. Everybody in the building knows what she's asking. Half the guys in that room came up in locker rooms where you didn't say that word unless you were throwing it at somebody.

"He's fitting in fine," I say. "He'll fit in better once he learns to backcheck."

A couple of them laugh. She doesn't.

"Does it change anything, having an openly gay teammate?"

"It changes the questions I get before a game."

That gets a bigger laugh, and I hate that I went for it, because it isn't an answer. She writes something down anyway.

"Last one," Priya says.

The guy from the local sports radio station, who has asked me the same question every October for three years, clears his throat. "Is this the last season, Owen?"