Hot Damn (Hot as Puck #3)

4. Beckett

Beckett

I t takes every ounce of control I have not to fidget in my seat. Whitney sits beside me as though she isn’t about to expose herself to the world, and I’m struggling to keep from picking her up and carrying her out of here.

I don’t want her to do this. Except at seventeen she’s making adult decisions that I might not agree with but have to accept. I’m proud of her. She’s a remarkable young woman and I want to shout that to the world, I really do, I’m just not sure this is how I want to do the shouting.

Cami is on the other side of me, her chair turned a little so she faces us both and we’re in a sort of semi-circle. She’s relaxed and moves easily through our conversation. And that’s what this has felt like, like a conversation between friends.

All the questions have been okay so far. Nothing outside of what we went over before she set her phone up to record and yet I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I can’t relax. Unlike Whit who is chatting with the woman like they’ve known each other for years.

I want to be angry about that except I can’t seem to dredge up that emotion. I want to believe this reporter who seems to have a connection with the team owner I can’t figure out, isn’t trying to catch us in a lie or make a spectacle of me or my daughter. But I can’t quite get there either.

I’m so used to being the only one taking care of Whitney that it’s hard to believe this stranger would have her best interests at heart.

“So, Beckett. How do you feel about the world knowing about Whitney?” Cami asks.

I frown, I can’t help it although I know I should because the camera will catch every emotion crossing my face. Taking a breath, I try to relax my face and gather my thoughts. “To be honest I’m not sure yet. Maybe ask me again in a day or two.”

Cami laughs softly. “I’ll be sure to do that next time we talk. But maybe I can help you decide how you feel now. Are you angry that your secret has been discovered, effectively forcing the two of you to sit down with me and talk about your lives?”

“Yes and no. Whit’s never been a secret per se. I’ve kept her out of the spotlight for so long it’s hard to remember when it became a hidden fact.”

“You’ve always been one of the league’s elusive players when it comes to media attention off the ice and some are likely to suggest it was to hide the fact you’re an unmarried single father.”

“It was to protect someone who couldn’t protect herself.” I swallow. Lick my lips. I have no idea where those words came from, I certainly hadn’t thought it before saying it even if it is the truth. “Look. I’m not saying all reporters are bad but everyone has seen or heard the lengths some of them can go to for a photo or something they consider scandalous. I wanted to protect my daughter, and myself, from that.”

“But you weren’t in the league when Whitney was born.”

“No.”

“Then you wouldn’t have needed to protect her from the press.”

“No.” I’m sweating now. I can feel it beading across my forehead. I’m sure the camera is picking it up but I can’t wipe my face. There’s so much I don’t want to reveal to the world about my daughter. I need to apply the same principles I apply to my game. Never let them see you sweat. Never show your fear.

“So why not tell everyone about her?”

“How was I supposed to do that? Take out an advertisement in the paper? I’m not one to want the spotlight. Even if I didn’t have Whit to protect I wouldn’t seek out media attention. When I leave the ice and the arena, my job is over and I leave that behind. I go home, or to the hotel if we’re playing away, and I’m just a man, a dad, who wants to spend time with his daughter.”

“You’re saying you’re no different than the average Joe who goes to work then goes home? Is that possible when what you do for a living is in the public eye?”

“I think I proved exactly that.” I don’t mean it as a slap but the flash in Cami’s eyes seems to indicate she’s taken it that way and the urge to soften my words is impossible to ignore. “I never set out to deceive anyone. All I wanted was to give my daughter as normal a life as possible. It’s hard being a single parent without having the media put you under a spotlight, without the public judging you for every decision you make.”

“Let’s talk about that, being a single parent and having a job that takes you away from home so often. How hard was it leaving Whitney so much?”

I smile. “In spite of no one knowing about her before now she accompanied me on most of my away games over the years. There were plenty of days, before and after an away game, where I was in a hotel room helping her with school work.”

“You home schooled her?”

“Yes. She was enrolled in a system that allowed her to travel with me until high school when we both decided attending a physical campus would be the best way to finish her schooling before college.”

“I’m impressed. It takes considerable effort and discipline to homeschool. For the parent and the child.”

“The program made it easy for both of us and Whit’s smart. Smarter than her dad, that’s for sure.” I laugh. “She’s definitely taught me a thing or two over the years.”

“It’s clear you love your daughter, Beckett. What’s one thing you want the world to know about her?”

“Just that. I love her more than anything. If what I do for a living put her in jeopardy, I’d quit in a heartbeat.” I reach over and grab Whit’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “She’s my reason for being.”

The room goes quiet while I stare at the woman across from me. She’s got a smile curling one side of her mouth and her eyes are sparkling with the liquid pooling in them.

“We’ll end it there,” she murmurs a long moment later. Getting up, she retrieves her phone and stops the recording.

Letting go of Whit’s hand I push to my feet and ask, “Can we see it?”

“Sure. Or you can take a break, get something to eat or drink while I record Coach Alcott’s interview, then we can watch them both.”

“Do you need a laptop?” the GM asks, reminding me we aren’t alone in the room.

“That would probably be good for viewing. I can edit the footage on my phone though.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Coach growls. “I’d like to get out of here before midnight.”

I reach down for Whit’s hand. “C’mon, Whitbee, we’ll grab a drink and sit over there.”

We get settled in a couple of chairs by the closed glass doors that overlook the ice. I turn my back to the view and watch Coach take a seat, his back stiff, his face in that serious scowl he gets when he’s not happy with what we’re doing on the ice.

I’m glad I’m not the only one who isn’t happy about this turn of events. Then again, do I have the right to be pissed off about this?

It was my daughter who caused a media storm. A storm I don’t see blowing over even with these ‘control the narrative’ interviews Cami insists will take the mystery out of my daughter’s revelation.

“Coach Alcott, your team is looking great on the ice. There doesn’t appear to be any friction or missteps for such a new team, and I have to assume the coaching staff has a lot to do with that. Has it been hard? Pulling it all together?”

“Not really. Ms. James and her scouts knew what they were doing when they picked each player on the team. That includes the coaching staff.”

“Let’s get the hard question over with. Were you upset when they named your assistant coach?”

Coach laughs. “Are you kidding me? Blake Watts was born to play hockey. She’s third generation in a family who is arguably hockey royalty, has three Olympic medals and coached the Canadian women’s gold medal team in the last Olympics. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want her at their side?”

“So you could say you’re a fan?” Cami asks with a smile.

“I’m a fan of winning. And I firmly believe Blake is one of the critical components of the Rogues’ determination to make the playoffs.”

“Is that a prediction, Coach?”

“Damn straight, it is.”

“I’m not sure others are such believers.”

“I’m sure they’re not. But here’s the thing, Oakley James might not have a history with hockey but she’s an extremely smart woman. She’s pulled together people with passion and one goal in mind. Winning. I have no doubt we’ll make the playoffs and if I were a betting man I’d say we’ll be taking that trophy home sooner than anyone predicts.”

A kick to my shin pulls my gaze from the interview to Whit. She’s holding her phone out and I can see she’s got something on the screen she wants me to see. I’m not sure I want to look. If it’s something to do with the post she put up that started this whole thing, I don’t know how I’ll react.

I know she didn’t mean to cause a drama or to out herself, or me, but she has to know we wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t been careless. She tips her head to indicate the device, and I reluctantly take it.

I steel myself for what I’ll read except it isn’t what I expect. It’s a message, although she hasn’t hit send, and I can see it’s to me.

W: I’m really sorry about what happened tonight. I honestly didn’t mean to tag you. It was an automatic response because that’s what you do on Instagram. You post a pic, add a comment and a billion different hashtags so people searching can find your post. It wasn’t until I got a message asking me how long I’d known you were my dad that I realized I’d really screwed things up. I didn’t delete the post like that reporter said but I did switch my account to private. I know what I’m going to ask next is going to probably piss you off more but I’d like to switch back to public. I’d like to have that post on there because I’m proud of you dad. I’m proud to be your daughter and I know you’ve kept me hidden to protect me but after next year I’ll be on my own and I don’t want to be a secret anymore. Not that that’s how you think of me but it’s how it seems. And yes, I know you always say it’s not what anyone else thinks, it’s what you or I think about us, except I want to tell the world I’m yours, that I’m proud of you. I want to show my pride in this team, in our life. I think I’m old enough to make that decision, but I won’t do it without your blessing.

Fuck. My eyes are blurry and my nose tingles with the emotion clogging my throat.

“Whitbee,” I murmur and reach for her hand.

This girl makes me so proud, so humble. She’s far more adult than she should be. I said in our interview that she was smart, but my daughter’s brain blows me away. I can’t take all the credit for this incredible woman in front of me. Mama Dot had a lot to do with the way Whit turned out.

Hell, she’s the reason I’m the way I am too. Without that guidance in the early days of my daughter’s life, I’m sure I would have failed.

No. I know I would have failed.

Hitting send on the message, I hand Whit her phone and pull mine from my pocket. I keep it on silent from the minute I change into my gear before a game and don’t turn it back on until I leave the arena whether we’re at home or away. The earlier fiasco, and the fact I’m still at the arena means I receive Whit’s message without a sound.

Tapping in my passcode, I pull up her message and reply.

I’ll agree and respect any decision you make. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I’m thankful every day that you are mine and if you want the world to know that I’m your dad I’m happy for you to do that any way you want to. I love you more than anything, Whitbee. I’m proud of you.

Mindful of the interview taking place across the room Whit reads my message and replies. This isn’t the first time we’ve communicated via text but it’s definitely the first time we’ve been in the same room doing it.

W: We should wait until Cami tells us what time the interview airs then post a few selfies on both our accounts.

Shit. I forgot about my account. I rarely use it. In fact, until I took the contract with the Rogues I didn’t have to bother because my old team had a social media expert running it. After signing with the Rogues, I changed the password and made an announcement about the change of teams for this year and haven’t touched it since.

We should ask Oakley what to post.

W: Cami too. She might want us to do some posts about the interviews. And we should do some regular posts about the team and us too.

I want to argue about that except I’m not even sure how much I used to post during the season. I didn’t lie when I said I leave the ice and my job is done. I’m clueless with all of this. I guess this means I’m going to have to make an effort.

The world knowing I have a daughter isn’t the only thing changing tonight.