17. Casey
Chapter 17
Casey
W hen I walked into the arena after the ice cream shop debacle, something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it right away. The guys were bullshitting like always until they saw me. Then they averted their eyes or gave me a stiff, “‘Sup, Coach?”
But it wasn’t their usual greeting tone. More like they had something on their mind but couldn’t say it.
The air felt weighty like unsaid words hung around like buzzing flies. It wasn’t just the players, either. In the breakroom, Esai—one of our trainers—gave me a look that I’d only ever seen him give to players who half-assed things. Sharp disappointment.
“What’s up, E?”
Esai was normally a go-getter, gregarious and friendly. So his formal, “Nothing at all. Anything you’d like to share with the rest of us?”
I had the sneaking suspicion I’d done something wrong and the absolute panic that they knew about me and Gemma.
My heart raced once I realized the problem. They knew. They all knew I’d been sleeping with a player’s little sister. I was going to lose my job, and they were disappointed in me for breaking the rules.
For Gemma’s sake, I covered. “No. Anything you want to tell me?”
“No. I have nothing to hide.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” I poured my coffee and left. By the time I reached my office, my gut was in knots. If I was fired for fraternization, I might not work in the league ever again. Pro hockey was my life, my calling. What would I do if not this?
When I opened my door, Whitney was already there, standing by the window with her arms crossed. She didn’t turn when I came in, but the tension in her shoulders was obvious. The way she sighed when I shut the door behind me set me even more on edge.
“All right,” I said, setting my bag on the chair. “What’s going on?”
She turned, her expression grim. “You might want to sit down for this.”
My stomach dropped. “Whit, just tell me.”
She hesitated for a moment like she was trying to figure out how to soften the blow. But then she straightened, her tone sharp and to the point. “There’s a rumor going around, Casey. A bad one. About you.”
“What kind of rumor?” I asked, my voice low.
“People are saying you might have an illegitimate child,” she said, her words landing like a slap. “That you bailed on the mother and left her to raise the kid alone.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The room spun. This was a worse rumor than just me sleeping with a player’s sister. This was character assassination.
“What?” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Whitney nodded, her jaw tight. “It started an hour ago, but you know how these things are. Nothing travels faster than your hero falling, and now it’s all over the building. Staff, players, everyone. No one knows exactly where it came from, but it’s spreading fast.”
“Well, it’s not true,” I said, my voice rising. “I didn’t?—”
“I believe you,” she said quickly, cutting me off. “I know you. You’re not the kind of guy who would do this sort of thing. But you need to understand how this looks, Casey. People are upset. Some of the players are angry. They think you abandoned a kid and their mom, and that’s not sitting well with anyone. A lot of those guys were raised by single moms, and they look up to you like a dad, so they’re pissed. It’s personal to them.”
“Why the hell would anyone think that about me? They know me, too! How could they think that of me?”
Whitney held up her hands, her voice calm but firm. “I don’t know who started it, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. The speculation is already out there. If we don’t get ahead of this, it’s going to spiral out of control.”
I paced the length of the room, trying to wrap my head around what she was saying. The thought of people believing that I’d abandoned a child—especially my team thinking that of me, the people who were supposed to trust me—made me want to rail at them for doubting me. Or, at the very least, set the record straight.
“I didn’t abandon anyone,” I said finally, my voice tight. “I swear to you, Whitney. That’s not who I am.”
“I know that, Casey,” she repeated. “But if I’m going to help you fix this, I need to know everything. The truth. No holding back.”
I hesitated. Telling Whitney was a big risk. But as much as she knew me, I knew her, too. I trusted her, and Whitney couldn’t help me if I didn’t give her the full picture.
“All right,” I said, letting out a shaky breath. “Here’s the truth...”
I told her everything.
I started with the masquerade fundraiser five years ago, the woman in the peacock mask, the one-night stand that had lingered in the back of my mind ever since.
Then I told her about Gemma. How we’d reconnected recently, how things had started to grow between us. That she had a daughter, Winnie, who was almost five—the exact timeline of that night at the masquerade.
“And the thing is,” I said, my voice quieter now, “it took me a while to put it together, and when I did, I asked. Today, in fact, when we were at Sweet Nothings. I asked if Winnie might be mine, and…she didn’t say no. She didn’t say yes, either, but the way she reacted…”
“What do you mean?”
“She got angry,” I admitted. “She shut me down, told me it wasn’t my business. But she didn’t deny it.”
Whitney was quiet for a long moment, her eyes narrowing in thought. “So, you think Winnie might be yours.”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I can’t stop thinking about it. The timing, the birthmark, the way she acts—it all lines up too perfectly to ignore. Or maybe I’m just an old fool who has always wanted children and a family, and I’m seeing things that aren’t there. I don’t know anything for certain.”
Whitney exhaled slowly, running a hand through her long, dark hair. Somehow, it fell perfectly back into place, though I suspected that was because nothing of Whitney Dobson’s would ever be out of place. She was always too poised, too perfect. A gorgeous woman, to be sure, but far too just-so for my liking. Probably because she was a former model. In all the years I’d known her, I’d never seen her look anything less than stellar.
It was easier to focus on Whitney than the vortex of possibilities I was being sucked into.
She sighed. “This is messy, Casey. Really messy. And the fact that it involves a player’s sister…”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
She leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. First, I’ll try to figure out where this rumor started and find out what else they think they know. Second, I’ll work on damage control—get ahead of it before it gets worse. But Casey, you need to be prepared for the fact that this might not just go away. Rumors like this don’t die easy deaths.”
“What do I do in the meantime?”
“Focus on the team,” she said. “Keep your head down, stay professional. Don’t give anyone a reason to think the rumors are true. Don’t let them see you sweat. You’re Coach. They need to remember who it is they’re gossiping about.”
I nodded, though the knot in my stomach didn’t ease. “Thanks, Whitney. For everything.”
She gave me a small smile, her tone softening. “You’re a good guy, Casey. Don’t let this mess convince you otherwise.”
After she left, I sat at my desk, staring at the wall as her words echoed in my mind.
A good guy.
Was I? If Winnie was mine, what did that say about me? About the man I thought I was? I hadn’t known she was out there, but how much did that matter to a child her age? All she knew was that she didn’t have a daddy.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Gemma’s reaction during our last conversation had left a lingering doubt I couldn’t ignore. She hadn’t denied it. She had only gotten angry that I was asking her about her past sex life. If Winnie wasn’t mine, I could understand why she was upset.
If Winnie was mine, that reaction would also make sense.
So, it wasn’t proof of anything either way. Which didn’t help matters. And now, with the rumors swirling, I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that I was right about Winnie. There were too many coincidences that lined up.
That afternoon, I zipped up my Coach’s jacket and stepped onto the ice for practice, hoping the jacket would remind my players who they were dealing with and that the routine would clear my head. But the tension in the arena was still there. The players were quieter than usual, their banter subdued as they skated drills.
A few of them shot me wary glances between drills. It was clear the rumor had reached them, and the thought of my own team doubting me made me sick. Trust was a fragile thing, and they thought I had broken it.
After practice, I pulled a few of the veteran players aside.
“All right,” I said, crossing my arms. “I know you’ve heard the rumors. Let me make one thing clear. They’re not true.”
The men exchanged glances, their expressions uncertain.
“Whatever you’ve heard, whatever you think you know—it’s not true,” I repeated firmly. “I didn’t abandon anyone. If you’ve got a problem with me, say it to my face. Otherwise, keep your focus on the game. The other guys look up to you. They’ll follow your lead. We’re here for the game and for each other. Remind them of that.”
There was a moment of silence before Nico nodded. “We hear you, Coach.”
By the time I got home that evening, I was exhausted at every level. The day pressed down on me as I sank onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.
The anger in Gemma’s voice when I’d brought up the possibility of Winnie being mine, it burned me. I thought about Winnie, about the way she’d smiled at me at the park, the way she’d called me Casey like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The way I wished she’d one day call me Dad instead.
I had thought of it in a stepdad capacity, and I knew I’d gotten ahead of myself by thinking like that all by itself. But now? Now, I was convinced I’d been left behind.
I hadn’t done the abandoning in this equation. If Winnie was mine, that was.