Chapter 39 #2
We all studied him, and we all seemed to make the same connection at the same time.
“You’re—” Devon cocked his head. “Aren’t you one of the straight guys?”
Lous chuckled. “Some of us hide it better than others, I guess.”
“Oh.” I shifted my weight. “I… didn’t have a clue.”
“To be fair,” Lous said with another quiet chuckle, “off the ice, I don’t think you noticed much about any of us except…” He nodded toward Devon.
Devon blushed. I was pretty sure I did, too.
“Well. I was, uh…” Emil shifted again. “I was unaware of that.”
“Most people are,” Lous said.
I was admittedly taken aback. I’d clocked several queer players on various teams where I’d played or coached, but I hadn’t even considered that Lous might be. Either he was incredibly subtle about it, or I’d really been oblivious since I’d come here.
My gaze drifted to Devon.
Oblivious. Definitely oblivious. Because holy shit, when I wasn’t on the ice, my mind had only been on one person.
“I understand someone else on the team knows,” Emil said. “And that there’s a blackmail situation.”
“There is,” Lous growled. “I heard Hairs threatening him last night.” With a slow head shake, he added, “That can’t fly. Not if we’re going to keep a close locker room.”
“No, of course not. I won’t abide by a cancer in the locker room. He’ll be dealt with. I just wanted to confirm what Devs had told me—that you witnessed it.”
Lous nodded solemnly. “I did.”
Emil nodded as well. “All right. I’ll deal with him.” Folding his hands on his desk, he took a deep breath and sat straighter. “But there is also this situation I need to deal with. Jack, I…” He shook his head. “You know I can’t keep a coach who’s been… involved with a player.”
The words “I know” were about to come out of my mouth, but Devon spoke first.
“What? You can’t fire him! He’s—”
“I don’t want to, kid,” Emil said, firmly but apologetically. “But if I keep a coach on staff who’s already been involved with a player…” He shook his head. “That sets a precedent I can’t allow. One that will start rumors that the club allows predatory behavior from—”
“Predatory?” Devon flew to his feet. “What the fuck? There was nothing predatory about—”
“Devon.” I touched his arm. “He’s right.”
Devon whirled on me. “What? But there’s nothing predatory about—”
“No, there isn’t.” I forced my voice to stay calm and even. “You know it. I know it. But the press and the public—they’re going to see it that way.”
His shoulders slumped, his face full of horror and defeat.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I already resigned anyway. This will just speed up the timeline.”
“But you… I don’t want you getting fired because of me.” His voice was small and plaintive. “Jack, we can’t…”
“I want to protect your career,” I said. “That’s the most important thing.”
“But what about yours?”
“I’ve had a very long and amazing career. If that ends now, I have no regrets.” I squeezed his arm. “Your career is just starting.”
He stared at me, still clearly unhappy with this.
“It’s okay,” I insisted. “If the only thing I come away with after this meeting is you, then I’ve got everything I need or want.”
Devon chewed his lip. Then he relaxed and nodded. “Okay. As long as it’s what you want.” He glared at Emil. “I still think firing him is bullshit, just for the record.”
Emil scowled. “I don’t have a lot of options here, son. I wish I did.”
“It’s fine,” I said, and gathered Devon in my arms.
Emil looked a little stunned as he watched Devon lean into me.
Lous just chuckled, shook his head, and murmured, “See? Not very subtle.”
“Oh, come on.” Devon freed himself from my arms and turned to Lous. “We weren’t doing shit like this out in the open.”
“No, you weren’t.” Lous grinned. “But I could tell.”
As Devon took his seat again, I asked the captain, “Out of curiosity, what gave us away?”
“Team breakfasts,” he said without hesitation. With a knowing smile, he said, “As soon as one of you walked in the room, it was like the sun came out. Maybe the other guys didn’t notice. I did.”
I stared at him. Then I laughed and shook my head. “And here I thought we were being slick.”
“Well, to be fair,” Emil said. “I didn’t notice. And it doesn’t sound like anyone except Lous and Hairs did.”
The mention of Hairs had everyone scowling.
“You’re going to deal with him, right?” Devon asked.
Emil nodded. “Absolutely. But I want a press conference with the two of you first. So we can get ahead of anything Hairs might want to leak.”
Devon glowered but didn’t protest. I squeezed his shoulder, and he touched my hand. We exchanged uneasy looks.
“I’ll handle him,” Emil said. “You two, be ready to talk to the press today.”
We both nodded.
Emil dismissed Lous and Devon, but kept me back. When we were alone, he let the mask drop and looked at me with exhausted, aggravated eyes. “You should’ve told me, Jack.”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to jeopardize Devon’s career, or make you think I was biased about his performance.”
He sighed. “You didn’t hesitate to recommend him for the call-up.”
“And on paper, he’s objectively a better defenseman than Pells.” I paused, then added, “And we both know you’d already made the decision.”
Emil’s eyebrows rose.
“I knew you’d already called Devon in to see you. I knew that before I walked into your office.”
His lips parted. “You were with him when I messaged you both.”
I nodded.
He swore and wiped a hand over his face. “It’s still not going to look good. You know it won’t.”
“No. But you’ve already addressed the problem with me. Just don’t hurt Devon’s career over it.”
“I won’t. The coaches up there are already raving about him and threatening me with grievous harm if I don’t re-sign him.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Devon’s not going anywhere. Don’t you worry.”
“That’s all I care about.”
He studied me. “Are you sure about this? Giving up your chance to ever coach again for…” He tipped his head toward the chair Devon had been occupying. “He’s just a kid, Jack.”
“He’s young,” I allowed. “But he’s got a more mature head on his shoulders than I ever did. He’s good for me. All I can do is hope I’m good enough for him.”
Surprise flickered across the GM’s face, but he didn’t push the issue. He dismissed me so he could get on the horn with the PR office.
When I stepped out into the hall, I wasn’t surprised to see that while Lous was gone, Devon hadn’t left.
Without a word, I gathered him in my arms, and for a long moment, we just stood like that, holding each other like we had in Denver.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That this got you fired.”
“Don’t be.” I stroked his hair and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Like I said, I’d already resigned. This is just accelerating the process a bit.”
“Still. It shouldn’t be like that.”
“No, but I get it. On paper, it really does look like I took advantage of a younger player and an imbalanced power dynamic.” Drawing back, I touched his face. “As long as you and I both know that’s not the case, then I don’t really care what anyone else thinks.”
“Even if it fucks your career?”
“Yes. Even then.”
He swallowed, glancing toward Emil’s office. “I feel bad for the Grizzlies. We’re leaving them up shit creek right when they were getting on the rails.”
“Nah. I’ve been pushing Amy into the head coach role more and more ever since I turned in my resignation. She’ll be able to take the reins.”
Devon blinked in surprise. “Oh. Shit. I didn’t even realize… I mean, she’s a great coach. I just didn’t know you were, like, planning ahead.”
“As much as I could, I was.” I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and herded him gently down the hall. “Everything will work out. In the end, I still have you. That’s all I care about.”
“You definitely still have me.” He put his arm around my waist. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Likewise.”
Now the really fun part—the press conference.
It never ceased to amaze me how fast something like this could be arranged.
Just a handful of hours after our sitdown with Emil, after Devon had practiced with his team, there we were, sitting behind a table in front of a Vancouver IceHawks backdrop.
I sat between Devon and Emil, each of us with a microphone, as reporters settled in.
Blinding lights gleamed. Camera lenses reflected our faces. Reporters stared like vultures waiting to descend on a carcass.
They’d already been briefed on the situation.
I’d been relieved of my duties as head coach of the Abbotsford Grizzlies due to my relationship with Devon Jarvis, which the club had deemed “inappropriate in light of the power dynamics between Mr. Showalter and Mr. Jarvis.” The club had released a statement stating, “While we support LGBTQ+ players and staff members, romantic and otherwise non-professional relationships between players and coaches is against Vancouver IceHawks policy.”
To say the reporters were primed and ready to grill us would be an understatement.
Vancouver’s PR director, Leila, introduced us, which seemed kind of redundant at this point, and then opened up the floor for questions. No one hesitated. The questions started out fairly tame, like sharks taking little nips to decide if and where they’d really bite.
“How has this relationship affected your on-ice interactions?”
“Was the rest of the team aware of this relationship?”
“Devs was called up to Vancouver during this relationship. How can anyone be sure his involvement with Coach Showalter didn’t influence this?”
To my surprise, Emil answered that one: “I did consult Coach Showalter before sending Devs to Vancouver, but the decision was already ninety-nine percent made. There isn’t another defenseman in Abbotsford who can rival his stats or his hockey IQ.
Truthfully, my only concern with sending him up was that I’d never get him back. ”
That prompted a ripple of quiet laughter.
I pulled my microphone closer. “I think Devon’s performance in Vancouver speaks for itself, too. Even if I had pulled all kinds of strings and tried to influence the decision, there’s nothing I can do once he’s on the ice.” I gestured at Devon. “He’s earned his stripes.”
Nods all around. I stole a glance at Devon, and he was blushing bright, but he offered up an adorable smile.
The questions continued, and they were starting to sink their teeth in a little deeper.
One came right out and asked if it was truly necessary to fire me when this was clearly a relationship between consenting adults.
Surely, they insisted, my hockey talents meant the club could still keep me in some capacity.
“The truth is that Jack had already tendered his resignation with the Vancouver IceHawks’ club.” Emil sighed. “Under the newly revealed circumstances, we felt it was appropriate to move up that timeline.”
“But is there still room for Mr. Showalter to be involved with the team?” the reporter pressed. “It seems like a waste of valuable talent and skill that could benefit future Vancouver IceHawks’.”
Emil turned to me.
I leaned forward to speak into the microphone.
“I’m always willing to work with players and help them develop.
With the current concerns that there was an abuse of power—that I took advantage of my authority over a younger player—I can understand why there might be reluctance to keep me in a position to work with those players. ”
Another hand shot up. Blood in the water.
“If you weren’t abusing your power as a coach,” that reporter asked pointedly, “how did you come to get involved this way with a player? Especially one so much younger than you?”
Devon spoke before I could. “We were involved before either of us knew he was my coach.”
That gave everyone pause.
Devon glanced at me, then faced the crowd with a cocky little smirk. “There was no power being abused. I had no idea who he was. He had no idea who I was. We were just a couple of guys who really, really clicked.”
I had to laugh at that, and… hell. We were out. Why hide anymore? I put my hand on his on the table. He smiled as he turned his hand over and laced our fingers together. I was pretty sure some cameras snapped at that, and I didn’t mind.
“Mr. Tiller,” another reporter said to Emil, “how do you foresee Mr. Jarvis’s future with this club?”
“There’s really no predicting until we sit down at the negotiation table, which we will after this season concludes.
” Emil glanced past me at Devon, and he actually smiled before facing the flock of vultures.
“But given his performance over these recent weeks, I foresee a future in Vancouver if he wants it.” He paused and chuckled. “Toronto’s loss is our gain, it seems.”
The reporters laughed, and the questions were gentler after that.
Now that we’d shut down the idea that our relationship was predatory, they seemed much more interested in asking about hockey and what the team would look like going forward.
When Emil announced that Amy would be replacing me as head coach, they were all very interested in that particular tidbit of news.
Suddenly everyone was vibrating with excitement, frantically tapping away at their phones as if they were racing to be the first to break the news about the first female head coach in the League.
That was fine by me. From the way Devon was slowly relaxing beside me, he wasn’t objecting either.
Yeah, it sucked that they’d all be reporting that I’d been fired. Yeah, they’d all have a field day with their headlines. Yeah, there would be unsavory accusations about how this relationship had come to be.
I could live with all that.
Because Devon’s career was intact. People recognized his talent and potential, and no one was making any noise about Vancouver cutting him loose. Quite the contrary.
Hairs would get whatever was coming to him. Emil was still pissed about this whole situation, and I had no doubt that as soon as this presser was over, “deal with that motherfucker” was next on his to do list.
The dust was settling. The smoke was clearing.
And somehow, by some miracle, I still had the man I loved.