Chapter 9
Atlas
The welcome familiarity of the arena as I step inside doesn’t do much for me.
My normal pregame excitement is muted. Game days are an electric buzz of adrenaline, and the need to immerse myself in competition is always intense.
I become a better version of my hockey self…
edges sharp, my focus so honed, I’m able to shut out the rest of the world.
But today, I don’t feel any of it.
The images in my head aren’t of hockey sticks and skates, but rather of Gray’s gaunt face the last time I saw him.
Grayce’s hiccup-type laugh when she’s amused.
Maddie’s razored voice telling me she doesn’t need help and we’re not friends.
No matter how hard I try to see past those things, I’m blocked.
It’s been exactly one week since my best friend and the only person I truly trusted in this world died. And instead of being able to process the loss, I’m focused on understanding the gain in the form of an unexpected daughter.
None of it feels real, and I acknowledge I’m going through the motions.
My sense of loyalty to Gray sealed my fate and I’m trying to make the best of it, but there’s not a minute that goes by that I don’t feel like a fraud.
Sure, I feed Grayce, I change her diapers, I carry her around with the projected confidence of someone who’s been handling babies their entire life.
But inside, I’m a terrified disaster. In my mind, Maddie is judging me at all times, waiting for me to screw up so she can say, “Aha! I knew you weren’t father material. ”
I act confidently in an effort to fool her, but I’m white-knuckling it. I feel like I’m barreling down a mountain road with no brakes and a loose steering wheel.
“Yo, Atlas,” a voice cuts through my thoughts.
I turn to see Kace coming through the players’ entrance, his ID badge in hand. He trots to catch up, slapping my shoulder with an easy grin. “Glad to have you back, man. How are things going?”
An easy enough question if we weren’t talking about the fact my best friend died and I’m now a father. “I’m good,” I say casually, then change the subject. “First round of playoffs… you ready?”
Kace studies me a moment, and I can tell he’s wondering whether he should ask more of a personal follow-up.
The entire team knows what’s going on and it’s not a secret how my life has been upended.
I’m not sure what my expression says to him, but he keeps it centered on hockey. “I’m more than ready.”
That’s good enough for me. Kace has been killing it since replacing Drake in net and it’s important he continues to ride that high confidence.
I reach out my fist and he bumps it. “You’ll be unstoppable, dude.”
“I won’t argue with that.” We traverse the outer hallway toward the locker rooms. “Listen… we’re all going to hit Mario’s after the game. Can you come?”
Jesus, how far I’ve fallen from cool status. Before, it would be an excited reminder, “Dude, see you at Mario’s.”
Now, I’m being asked, as if I need to seek permission. Can you come?
My gut says yes before my brain can stop it.
I love hanging out with the guys after a win, and I’m confident we’re going to win tonight.
A beer, loud music, being Atlas the hockey player instead of Atlas the guy trying to figure out how to diaper a kid without getting shit all over him is exactly what I want and need.
A little normalcy.
There’s absolutely nothing holding me back. Maddie’s completely capable of caring for Grayce tonight. In fact, she made it clear I’m not needed. I’m sure if I went straight home after the game, I’d find them both sound asleep.
But then I picture Maddie watching me intently, grading every move I make. On more than one occasion, she’s outright accused me that I will run away from this obligation at some point. If I go out with the guys, does that mean she’s right? Does it convey I’m not serious about this new dad gig?
“I’m not sure just yet,” I say, hoping it sounds breezy enough to not reveal the gut-wrenching internal dilemma going on right now.
Kace smiles, and I see the empathy within. “First round’s on me if you can make it.”
He disappears toward the locker room, whistling like life is uncomplicated. Must be nice.
“Karolak.”
Coach West is suddenly in front of me, stepping out of his office. He plants a heavy hand on my shoulder, and I find it grounding rather than oppressive. “Good to have you back on the ice.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I say, trying to match his tone.
“We’re gonna need you dialed in. Playoffs don’t forgive distractions.” His eyes search mine, sharp. “You good?”
“I’m always dialed in,” I lie. “I’m perfect.”
He doesn’t call me on it. Just jerks his head down the hall. “Callum wants to see you upstairs.”
Wonderful. Just what I need. A meeting with our general manager.
?
Callum Derringer’s office overlooks the river, and the sight of it through the floor-to-ceiling windows stops me for half a second.
It’s the same water that runs past my house northeast of here.
The same water that’s running past Maddie unpacking her old life, hoping to integrate it into a new one in a new city.
Past Grayce scooting around on the floor, looking for a solid piece of furniture she can use to pull herself up.
The Allegheny represents my two lives brushing against each other but refusing to blend.
“Atlas,” Callum says, waving me in with an easy smile. “Sit down.”
Derringer is one of the best things that happened to this organization, and Brienne Norcross is considered a genius for bringing him on board.
He’s the type of guy who seems to know all the answers before the question is even asked, but not in an egotistical way.
Rather in that calm, measured way that makes you feel secure because you have him on your side.
I drop into the chair across from him, the big executive desk separating us. He’s wearing game-day attire, same as me, in the form of a custom-tailored suit.
“Wanted to check in,” he says, leaning back and propping an ankle on one knee. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good,” I say automatically without thought as to the veracity of my words. In hindsight, they’re the only ones I can give because I need to project the confidence that I’m going to be the right guy for the job out there tonight.
He tilts his head, studying me. “Good, huh?” His gaze seems to bore right through me. “For a guy who just suffered an unimaginable loss a week ago and became a dad five days ago, I would have expected a little more discombobulation in your life.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw, then wrap my palm around my nape so that my fingers can press into the tight muscles there. Callum’s expression basically says, Don’t you dare lie to me.
“It’s… a lot,” I finally admit.
“Define a lot.”
I laugh, short and bitter, and decide to lay out the truth of it. “You said it yourself. I lost my best friend a week ago. Now I’m trying to be a dad.” The last word comes out rough, like it doesn’t fit in my mouth yet. “I’m trying to get my footing.”
“I can’t even imagine.” He steeples his fingers. “How’s it going with Grayce and Maddie moving in?”
I blow out a breath, shaking my head. Callum knows all about my decision to honor Gray’s wishes as I’ve kept him and Coach West in the loop. No choice but to do that, really. They’ve both been texting me every day.
How’s it going? I can act like I’ve got it all handled, but inside I’m a fucking mess. “Depends on the situation,” I say neutrally. “It’s an adjustment. Maddie’s got her systems—her order, her processes. She’s got a way to fold blankets, a way to stock bottles, a way to even stack the dishwasher.”
And she doesn’t say it outright, but I can feel her waiting for me to screw it up.
“You’re not used to being managed,” Callum observes.
“Not on a micro level.” My lips twitch a bit. “Maybe you can give her some management tips.”
Callum laughs from deep in his belly. “I’m going to guess her need for control has to do with the fact her life is completely out of control.”
“That’s definitely understandable, but I don’t even know what the rules are.
One wrong move and it’s like I’m in the penalty box with Maddie glaring at me.
I promised Gray I’d always be there for him, and I’m doing as he wanted, but Maddie doesn’t want me involved.
I think it might be a constant battle to try to be what they both need. ”
He nods slowly. “Listen. You don’t have to do it alone. Lean on your Titans family because that’s what we’re here for. But if I can give a word of advice?”
I blink at him, wondering why he’s asking that. Of course I’ll take the advice.
“I think you need to discuss these worries with Maddie. She needs to know how you feel.”
Wait! What? Share my feelings? Yeah, don’t think so. “I’ll consider it.”
Callum cocks an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. “Here’s what you need to remember. Being a parent doesn’t mean erasing yourself. A good parent is present, yes, but also shows their kid what a full, joyful life looks like. If you lose yourself, what are you modeling for Grayce?”
His words ring true. And heavy. Too heavy. I shift in my seat.
“Balance,” he says firmly. “Grayce deserves your best. That includes the part of you that loves this game. The part that needs his friends. Don’t let any of this turn you into someone you’re not.”
?
By the time I get back down to the locker room, the energy has shifted. Music blares, sticks are being taped, guys are ribbing each other with playoff energy. I force myself not to let it bounce off the armor I have in place. I force an opening and let the giddiness of the playoffs seep into me.
I spot Kace leaning against his cubby, scrolling on his phone.
I hesitate, Maddie’s voice in my head. We’re not friends, Atlas.
Callum’s reminder not to erase myself. Balance. Titans family.
The uncertainty is gone and I head his way. “Hey man,” I say, and he looks at me.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I’m in tonight.”
Kace grins and holds out his fist. I bump it hard. “Excellent. Like I said, first round’s on me.”
“Can’t wait.”
My decision tastes like relief. And guilt.
Both burning all the way down.