6. Beckett
Beckett
A whistle blows and every one of my teammates stops whatever drill they’re on and turns toward the bench.
“All right, that’s enough for today.” Coach Alcott waves us in. When we’re all close, he says, “I need a couple of volunteers to head up to the owner’s suite in the arena after you get cleaned up.”
“Don’t panic, no one is in trouble,” Assistant Coach Watts adds. “The team is doing a series of interviews with each player. If you haven’t seen the one with your captain that went live last night, I suggest you search for it and watch it.”
“We all have to do it?” Mikel Vinter asks, his accent heavy.
“Yes. Eventually.” Alcott turns to me. “If you’ve got a minute, Cami wants to see you too.”
“What? Why? I did my interview.”
“I have no idea, but she specifically asked if you could spare her a few minutes after morning skate. Seeing how you know the way to the suite, you can show the others where they need to go.” He leans in closer, lowers his voice. “Maybe give them a few tips, some reassurance that this isn’t a witch hunt, more of a sit-down chat with Cami on camera.”
“Sure. I can do that. ”
“We’ve got Mikel and Noah for volunteers today,” Coach Watts says. “The rest of you get out of here.”
I wait for everyone to leave the ice before I move. There’s no point rushing if I have to head over to the arena.
“You good?” Alcott asks as he steps beside me. “Whitney okay?”
“She’s fine, handled last night’s drama better than I did.”
“Are we openly saying you have a daughter now?”
“May as well. The world knows about her and I never tried to keep her a secret to begin with.” I shrug. “Just turned out that way.”
“I don’t know how. Your previous teammates knew you had a kid, the Rogues org knew.” Alcott shakes his head. “I don’t understand why Draper thought it was such a big deal.”
“Draper?”
“The guy from the press conference. Herman Draper. From what Oakley tells me, he’s the scum of scum kind of journalist who will dig in your trash looking for any dirt he can expose. Usually sells to the gossip columns.”
“Does anyone believe those?”
“Probably.” Alcott claps me on the shoulder. “Listen. I know you like to keep to yourself off ice but I’d—we’d— appreciate it if you were a bit more social with the rest of the team. You’ll find the owners are friendly and want to be involved in the players’ lives.”
“Why? They’re paying us to do a job, not be their friend.”
“True. But they have a philosophy that has paid off big-time in their other business.”
“What business? To be honest, other than Oakley, I don’t know who the owners of the Rogues are.”
“You didn’t read or see any of the stuff when the franchise was announced?”
“Maybe. But at that point it had nothing to do with me, and when my agent came to me with the offer to play here, all I was concerned with was whether it would be suitable for Whit. I can play anywhere.”
“Huh.” He’s quiet a moment before saying, “I don’t know if anyone else warned you or not and maybe that’s what Cami wants to see you about today, but you didn’t mention Whitney’s mom in your interview.”
“Why would I? She’s not in our lives. Hasn’t been since Whit was born.”
“Okay.” Alcott stops me, turns to face me. “If I’m calculating right, and I’ll be the first to admit math isn’t my favorite subject or in my skill set but even I can minus seventeen from thirty-three.”
I swallow. I know what’s coming. The judgement, the curiosity. I was forced to face both when Whit was first born but as she got older—as I got older—the looks stopped, so did the questions, and I found it easier to lay it out. Reveal enough information to stop whoever was asking from digging deeper.
“I was sixteen when Whit was born. Her mother didn’t want her but I did. Luckily I had Mama Dot, my foster mother, to help me.”
“Jeez, Blake has a fifteen-year-old nephew. I can’t imagine him becoming a parent next year.”
“It wasn’t easy. I never thought about being a parent until I found out she was on the way, but once I knew about her, I did everything I could to protect her.” The fierceness of my voice has Alcott raising a brow and I have to think of something to say that will stop any more questions. “I have first-hand knowledge of a parent who doesn’t protect you. I didn’t want that for my kid.”
Alcott nods. “I understand that. Micky isn’t mine, he’s my cousin’s son, but I’ll do anything to keep him safe, make sure he has everything he needs.”
I know a little about the boy Alcott and Oakley James are raising. I might not have taken much notice of the new team in the league when it was announced but once I knew I’d sign the contract with Rogues, I did some research on the coaches. I admire them both for taking on the little boy. Although at five I guess he’s not that little.
Glancing at his watch, Alcott says, “And speaking of Micky. I need to head out. He’s got a school thing on.”
I smile. “I’ve only dealt with those in recent years. When Whit was homeschooled, our school things were more excursions for one. Well, two. Someone had to go with her. Usually me.”
“This is an art showing. Apparently I need to be there because he wants all his family with him when he unveils his painting.”
“Sounds like a fun afternoon.”
“Oakley promised ice cream after. Can’t pass up ice cream.”
“Better get going so you’re not late or she might renege on that.”
“That’s exactly what she’d do.” Alcott laughs. “Although Pa will slip me some on the sly if she does.”
I have no idea who Pa is and I know I should ask if I’m going to be more friendly with the people involved in my new team but my natural inclination is to not ask. If I don’t ask, they don’t ask. It’s how I’ve kept myself and Whit out of the spotlight.
“All right, get in there,”—he indicates the locker room with a chin lift—“get cleaned up, and help Mikel and Noah with their interviews.”
“Not sure what help I’ll be but I’ll try.” Again, my inclination is to not get involved but I need to. Especially now the world knows about Whit. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Alcott waves as he heads down the corridor toward his office and I wait until he’s behind his door before pushing into the locker room.
I’ve spent eighteen years protecting Whit, protecting myself, and now, with her on the cusp of adulthood, I’m going to have to learn to be more open. More friendly. More involved in life outside of hockey and home.
“Hey, Bex. Ready to head over to the arena?”
I glance up to find Noah Hubert dressed, hair wet from his recent shower. Looking down at my skates, I bring my gaze back up and raise an eyebrow.
“Right. No. Not ready. I’ll wait in the lounge.” He smiles sheepishly as he passes me. He’s young. Good on the ice but green off it. He’ll get there. Being twenty and finding yourself playing for a national team is daunting, and overwhelming at times.
“I’ll be quick,” I say to his back.
He waves in acknowledgment as he pushes out the door. Turning back to the locker room, I see the team is all still here. Most are showered and getting in their street clothes. The only one beside myself who isn’t either showered or in one is Mikel.
The scowl on his face should scare people away. His perpetual grumpiness does what the frown doesn’t. I’ve been training with the guy, playing alongside him, for a few weeks now and I still can’t work out if he’s pissed to be here, pissed in general, or missing home.
The last would be understandable. He’s playing in the US for the first time in his short life.
At twenty-four he’s not that young but he’s not old either. He’s seasoned, played for the professional league in Europe, so it’s not that being here is much different to what he’s used to.
Well, except for the whole speaking English thing.
“Mikel. You good?”
I get a nod before he shoves to his feet and starts to strip. “I don’t want to talk to person.”
“It’s not that bad. She’s just going to ask you some questions but more in a conversation way than an interview.”
“You be there?” The pleading in his gaze has me answering before thinking.
“Yes.” I’d planned to talk to Cami and get out of there but with Alcott’s words about connecting with my team better echoing in my head, I realize staying while Noah and Mikel do their thing with Cami is the best thing to do. “I’ll stick around the whole time.”
He grunts, snatches up a towel, and heads for the showers .
Shaking my head, I walk to my locker and sit. I’ve got one skate unlaced, the second half undone when Branton sits next to me. He’s quiet as I get my second skate undone and pull both off. Looking up I ask, “Need something?”
“No. Just wanted to say I know what it’s like to want to protect a child with your life. I don’t think you did a bad thing hiding your daughter from the world.”
“I didn’t hide her. That was never my intention.” Except it was. Because if anyone found out about her mother, if someone dug deep enough, they’d find the trail and the trail leads to a time in my life I buried along with the woman who birthed my daughter.
“I get that. I didn’t mean to imply you were being sneaky or anything.” He scrubs a hand over his head. “Shit. This isn’t coming out right.”
“Why don’t you keep going and maybe we can work it out between us.”
“I just want you to know I have your back. You need to keep to yourself, keep Whitney from the public eye, I’ll do—we’ll do”—he indicates the men around us—“whatever you and she need to feel comfortable.”
“At this point I can’t keep her out of the public eye. Both Oakley and that reporter, Cami, thought it would be best if we got in front of any possible bad press by doing last night’s interview. I’m sure there will be more in the future. I’m not dumb enough to think that ten minutes of conversation will satisfy everyone.”
“Blake explained about the videos they want us all to do. What did they call it… A conversation with a Rogue?”
“Yeah, that’s what they called mine and Coach’s. It fits with promoting the team.”
“It does. And Cami knows her shit, so you’re in good hands there. We all are.”
“Hope so. ”
“You are. Cami would never do anything to make the team or anyone associated with it look bad.”
“That’s not my experience with journalists.”
“But Cami…wait. You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
“Um, well, she’s um, one of?—”
“Bran!” Coach Watts sticks her head in the door. “Five minutes before we need to go.”
“Shit!” He launches to his feet. “Sorry. I’m ready. Coming. Two seconds.”
I have to hide my smile when Coach sends him a scowl before disappearing.
“Sorry, the wife calls. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
It’s amazing to see Branton and Coach Watts working together. If you didn’t know anything about them, you’d never guess they were married. They keep their personal life personal and their professional life professional.
Come to think of it, so do Coach Alcott and Oakley James.
I really need to do more research on the team I play for. Find out all the connections within the team because if I’m going to be more involved in the Rogues, I should know who’s who and what’s what outside of the men I take the ice with.
I’ll start by getting to know Noah and Mikel.