Chapter 39
JACK
“Devon. Devon, slow down.” Phone pressed to my ear, I paced across my living room. “What’s going on?”
On the other end Devon paused for an audible deep breath. Then, slower, he said, “Hairs is threatening to out us. He’s blackmailing me.”
My stomach somersaulted. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” He exhaled. “Lous overheard him. He knows what’s going on, and he told Hairs to cut it out, but… I don’t think he will.”
I swallowed. “What does he want?”
“He wants you to campaign for him as hard as you campaigned for me, so he gets called up.”
I halted. “But… I didn’t campaign for you.” Okay, I kind of had, but only in the sense that Emil had offered me two options and I’d picked one. Devon had been the objectively better choice.
“It doesn’t matter,” Devon said miserably. “It looks like you did.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I swore under my breath. “Christ. And if he doesn’t get called up, then he’ll out us?”
“That’s what he’s saying.” He paused. “What the hell do we do?”
“I’m not sure. I’m… Let me think for a second.”
He didn’t speak, and I resumed pacing as I searched for some kind of solution.
Both playing and coaching hockey required a lot of changing on the fly.
The game moved fast, and far more often than not, there was no time to stop and analyze the situation before making a decision.
Set plays, set lines—they all went out the window when the puck was on the move.
The ability to think fast and adapt in those situations were what separated the wheat from the chaff in this sport, and I’d long been proud of my skills in that regard both on the ice and on the bench.
A situation like this? Fuck, I didn’t even know where to start.
Except there was one solution that kept shoving its way to the forefront. One that was as terrifying as it was sound.
Finally, I dropped onto my couch and sighed, resigned to that one and only course of action that might see us both through this. “I think I need to come clean to Emil.”
“You—what?” Devon sputtered. “Are you serious? But he’ll—Jack, you’ll never be able to work in this sport again.”
“Maybe not, but it sounds like the alternative is letting Hairs out us to the press. Then it’ll be egg on the club’s face as well as ours, and we’ll both have to deal with that fallout. At least this way, we’re not blindsiding the club, and we have some control over the narrative.”
“But the narrative is still that we were fucking and then I got called up.” He paused. “You… You didn’t push for me to get called up, did you?”
“Not the way Hairs thinks.”
Devon was silent for a few seconds. “That’s not a no.”
“It isn’t.” I wiped my hand over my face.
“When we came back from Tofino, Emil told me he needed to send up a defenseman. He was debating between you and one of your teammates, and he asked for my opinion.” I paused.
“He didn’t know that I knew that you’d already been called into his office.
So, I think he’d already made his decision.
He just wanted to confirm with me that it was the right one. ”
More silence.
“I would never push for you to get sent up if you weren’t ready for it,” I said softly. “Even if I went into it as—well, as whatever we are to each other, rather than your coach, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if I knew you weren’t ready, but I sent you up anyway, I’d be sabotaging your career.
What good would it do you to go up there, get overwhelmed, and have a disastrous performance?
It happens, and the coaches know it’s a huge jump from the farm team to the big leagues, but you still have to hold your own. ”
“Oh.” There was some movement on the other end, as if Devon were trying to get comfortable. “So if you sent me up before I was ready, it could fuck my chances of ever getting called up again.”
“Exactly. But I knew you were ready. And you’ve proven that at every turn since you’ve been up there. So, yes, I encouraged Emil to send you. But that was purely as a coach who sees your talent, your hockey IQ, and your potential.”
“Hairs won’t see it that way.”
“He doesn’t have to. Emil knows how our conversation went.
He knows what your stats look like. Even if people think I pushed for you to get called up, no one can argue with your stats or your skill.
There’s literally no one else on the Grizzlies who would’ve been a better choice than you, and that’s an objective fact. ”
Devon sighed but said nothing.
“Listen,” I said, “I’ll talk to Emil. With your permission, I can even tell him that I already knew you were getting called up.”
“That means admitting we were together.”
“Yes. It does.”
Devon was quiet again, though I could hear him breathing on the other end. Finally, he whispered, “Do you really think this is the best way? Coming clean?”
“Yes. I think it’s the only way at this point.”
“Ugh,” he growled. “Fuck Hairs for putting us in this position.”
“No kidding. But we’ll do the best we can with the cards we’ve been dealt.” I tipped my head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Do you want to come with me to talk to Emil?”
More silence. “I have practice tomorrow.”
“So do I.”
“I’m in Abbotsford now. If we meet Emil first thing in the morning, I can still get to Vancouver in time for practice.”
I closed my eyes and pretended not to notice that ball of frustration in my chest. I knew he was in town.
Knew he’d been at tonight’s game. Knowing he was close by made me ache to be with him, but…
no. Not tonight. Not when there was someone sniffing around for dirt.
We just had to talk to Emil, get this over with, and then—
“Jack?”
My eyes flew open and I cleared my throat. “Right. Um. I’ll text Emil. What time is your practice tomorrow?”
“Eleven.”
“Okay. Let me see if I can get us into his office by eight or so. Will that give you enough time?”
“It’ll be close, but I can manage.”
“All right. I’ll let you know as soon as I set something up.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll get through this. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We ended the call, and I indulged in a moment to just fume and quietly panic over this situation Hairs had thrust us into.
Yes, we were the ones who’d taken the risk and gotten involved with each other, but nothing excused blackmail.
And if we got ahead of this, maybe we could minimize the damage to our careers.
Or at least Devon’s career. I was pragmatic enough to know that there was likely no coming back from this for me.
Devon could easily be dismissed as a young player who did something stupid.
I would be painted as the coach who abused his position of power.
That was almost funny, given the actual power dynamic between Devon and me.
But no one was going to know about that part, and quite frankly, I was willing to take whatever label the public gave me over this.
Devon and I knew the truth. If getting blacklisted from ever coaching again was the price of leaving Devon’s career relatively unscathed? Fine.
I took a deep breath. Rolled my shoulders. Pulled up Emil’s contact on my phone.
And before I could talk myself out of it, I got this ball rolling.
Emil’s office was painfully silent except for the quiet tap-tap-tapping of Devon’s sneaker heel on the floor and my blood pounding in my ears.
The GM looked at him. Then me. Then him again. His expression offered up nothing, though I was pretty sure I read some irritation in the narrowness of his eyes.
We’d spelled it out to him. Laid it all out, from our relationship to Devon’s teammate blackmailing him.
I’d watched a whole flurry of emotions play out across our GM’s face, from fury to confusion to what the fuck did I do to deserve to have this bullshit at eight twenty-two in the goddamned morning?
We’d told him everything, and there was nothing to do now except wait for the chips to fall.
And wait for the third party Emil had summoned after we’d finished.
I fought the urge to fidget in my chair.
At least the additional person was already in the building; God help us if we’d had to wait for someone to drive in.
Just waiting these last few minutes already threatened to drive me insane, and I could feel the nervous energy radiating off Devon, too.
Hockey players were not known for the ability to sit still under the best of circumstances.
And the best of circumstances, these were not.
After an eternity had passed—maybe five minutes, if I was honest—there were footsteps outside. Then a quiet tap on the door that made Devon and me jump as if we hadn’t been expecting it.
“Come in,” Emil said dryly.
The door opened, and Lous stepped inside. As he closed the door, he looked at Devon and me, and a mix of understanding and oh shit flickered across his face. Clearing his throat, he faced Emil. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Thank you for coming in.”
“Sit,” I told him, and got up from my chair.
Lous glanced at each of us, then cautiously took the chair. “What’s going on?”
“Were you aware that the two of them”—Emil gestured at Devon, then me—“were involved in a…” He hesitated, squirming a little in his chair with some obvious discomfort. “Involved with each other?”
Lous looked at Devon, who gave him a nod that seemed to telegraph, it’s okay, you can tell him.
To Emil, Lous said, “Yes, I knew.” He shrugged. “It’s been going on since they both came to Abbotsford.”
All three of us stared at him.
He glanced at each of us. “What?”
“You knew?” Devon asked.
“Yes,” the captain said matter-of-factly. To Emil, he said, “They clearly went above and beyond to be subtle about it, and you’d never know if you only saw them on the ice or in the locker room, but I knew.”
Devon and I exchanged glances, the alarm on his face mirroring my own.
“It probably wasn’t obvious to anyone else,” Lous continued. “To, well, the straight guys.”