Chapter Twenty-Nine
TOMMY
“Yeah, seven at our place. Kendra and I are going to cook for everyone, so make sure you bring empty stomachs and nothing else.”
Stepping into the locker room before practice, I ignore the conversation going on between Jack, Sawyer, Emmett and Archer and head straight for my bench, dumping my kit bag down with a thud.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a surprise lined up for us on Saturday night?” I hear Archer ask.
“I’ll be there, but I’ll be alone,” Emmett adds, wincing and scratching at the back of his neck. “And probably not for the whole night. I’m sorry.”
I turn my back to the rest of the room and begin stripping down to my underwear.
“Holy SHIT.”
Jack’s raised voice causes me to partially turn around to face him, although I wish I hadn’t since he’s standing there, pointing at me. Jaw agape, eyes bugged out.
Archer’s, Sawyer’s and Emmett’s expressions aren’t any different, and as I scan the rest of the locker room, I realize I have the attention of most of the guys.
Archer reaches behind him, pointing to his back. “Jesus Christ, Tommy. Did you have a fight with a bear last night?”
Jack snickers from beside him, edging closer to get a better look. His lips tip up when he registers the marks. “That’s no bear, Archer. They’re fingernail tracks.”
“Holy HELL,” Emmett declares, stepping forward to get a better view.
Turning back to face my bench fully, I snatch up my Dri-FIT top and pull it overhead.
“I mean, I thought Sawyer was into kinky shit … but … fucking wow.” My captain continues talking, much to my annoyance.
With my top half now covered so they can’t see the marks Jenna left on my torso, I take a step toward my teammates, offering a glare to all those eavesdropping. They get back to their own conversations.
“How about you mind your own business?” I tell all four of them, centering my attention mainly on Jack and Archer.
Sawyer shifts closer to me, placing a palm on my shoulder.
I fight the urge to shrug it off and cross my arms instead.
“Just ignore these three.” He thumbs to his teammates. “They’ll do anything to get under a guy’s skin.”
“That’s what she said.” Archer snickers, causing Emmett and Jack to fall about laughing.
On a raised brow, I look between them, quietly waiting for them to get it the fuck together.
“You act like you’re a virgin who just got out of college,” I tell Jack when he finally stops laughing. “Hardly captain behavior.”
At this point, I’m out to rile him up. Jack Morgan is captaincy material through and through, and we all know it. Even if I don’t want to admit it out loud.
I tip my chin at Archer. “And you need my ass for shutouts, so how about showing me a little respect?”
He scoffs at that. “Respect? You haven’t shown an ounce of that since you got traded here last season.”
Emmett hums his agreement, and I throw him a look.
Respect.
Something I failed to show Jenna when I snuck out of her apartment at five a.m.
I know I’ve fucked up. Big time.
When Jenna fell asleep in the early hours, I desperately wanted to stay with her, wake up, and then take her for breakfast at Rise Up—the café where we randomly bumped into each other that time.
That’s what I should’ve done, and I know it.
Instead, I freaked the fuck out and snuck out of her bed, grabbing my clothes, phone, wallet, and keys on the way.
And when she called me and I listened to her voicemail? I didn’t know what to say. She’s right; it was a shitty move. But something tells me that my inner fear of getting close to another human being isn’t going to wash with her.
Jenna deserves a man who will go all in, with zero fear of getting hurt. She doesn’t want or need a guy who can’t push past his own rejection issues and tell her what he truly wants. I promised that I’d prove myself to her, and I’ve gone ahead and done exactly that.
I’m an asshole who knows that he doesn’t deserve her.
My teammates might be pointing to the scratches she left on my back, but in truth, they could never see her deepest marks.
I’ve got feelings for Jenna Miller. And I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do with them.
Archer is still waiting on my response when I turn back to my bench and continue getting ready for practice. I’m done with games and trying to gain the upper hand in verbal duals.
It’s fucking exhausting.
“Tommy …” Sawyer’s calming voice filters over my shoulder.
I can sense he’s standing directly behind me, although I ignore him.
“Slow down, buddy. You’re going to damage something, ripping at your pads like that.” He rests another palm on my shoulder, trying to steady my temper as I continue getting ready.
He probably thinks I’m mad at my teammates. He’s wrong. I’m only mad at myself.
“They weren’t trying to humiliate you.” Sawyer continues talking.
On a deep exhale, I spin around to face him, half dressed for practice. “I couldn’t care less what they think,” I lie, taking another metaphorical punch to the gut in the process. I told Jenna who I cared about, and that definitely included my teammates.
Sawyer’s brows knit together; he’s not buying a word of what I say.
I cast a quick glance around the locker room, which is slowly emptying as the guys head out to the ice.
Ten seconds later, we’re practically alone.
Sawyer doesn’t bother to move or show any sign of heading for the rink; his attention is locked in on me.
I pick up my training jersey and throw it overhead.
“Which begs the question …” I lift a brow at my former captain. “Why do you give a shit about me?”
Sawyer props his hands on his hips, kind of how I imagine he would with his teenage son. He’s reaching the end of his patience.
“Does your particularly bad mood have to do with the scratches on your back, or were you really in a bear fight?”
Right at that moment, the locker room door opens, and Coach Morgan walks in.
I deflate, knowing being late on the ice won’t go over well when I’m already on a warning. Friday’s game is my first one off suspension, and I’m already fucking things up.
Although the look on Coach’s face isn’t mad; it’s more empathetic.
“Bryce”—Coach thumbs over his shoulder toward the door he just came through—“can you give me a second with Schneider?”
Like the perfect team player Sawyer is, he nods once and drops his hand from my shoulder, exiting and leaving me and Coach on opposite sides of the room.
Coach blows out a long breath and sets his iPad down on an empty section of the bench. He takes a seat next to it and rests his elbows on his knees.
He looks torn up over his thoughts—or maybe whatever is about to leave his mouth next.
An icy-cold trickle chases a path down my spine.
Coach points to my section of the bench, lifting his gaze to look at me. There’s only sincerity in his eyes, and that kicks up my trepidation.
“Take a seat, Tommy. My staff is running the first part of practice so I can speak with you.”
I do as he asked and wait for Coach to elaborate. Whatever he’s about to say can’t be good. Coach rarely hands practice over to his team—and only under serious circumstances.
“I swear I arrived on time for practice, Coach.” I begin talking, the nervous silence proving too much for me to take. I need my place on the team, and I’ll be goddamned if I lose it because I got held up, talking in the locker room.
He shakes his head, running a palm over the scruff of his jaw. “It isn’t to do with practice.”
My mouth runs dry. “What is this about?” I ask, mentally cycling through the events of my life the past few days.
Jenna.
Fuck. Did something happen to her?
Coach twists his hands together in front of him. “Does the name Ethan Hadley sound familiar to you?”
At first, the name means nothing to me … and then … my eyes grow wide as I take in Coach’s concerned gaze.
He takes my expression as confirmation that I’ve heard of him.
“He’s a former semi-pro soccer player with a decent following on social media.”
My heart hits the fucking floor.
“Anyway, around a half hour ago, he made a post, claiming you had beaten him up on a night out and included images of his broken and bloody nose. He states that the attack was unprovoked and over an undisclosed girl he was innocently walking home after she drank too much.”
If my stick was next to me right now, I’d launch it against a wall since I won’t be needing it any longer. My career is as good as fucking over.
Leaning back, I can’t help the wry smile as it traces my lips.
It’s effectively my word against his. I know there isn’t any CCTV footage outside Jenna’s apartment door—I already checked.
No one is going to take my word—one that’s already tarnished with a bad rep—over an “innocent” member of the public’s.
Why Ethan waited until now to post, I have zero idea.
Perhaps he was hoping to catch our PR team or my agent off guard.
Or maybe he sat in his rage and finally decided he’d go for the jugular.
And there’s no way I can expect Jenna to rescue me with the truth; she already hates my guts. Plus, coming forward and speaking out would effectively unearth all that’s been going on between us. She wants me to get out of her life, not get more entangled in it.
“Is it true?” Coach’s voice is quiet and guarded. He knows my future with the Blades is resting on a knife edge.
I stand from the bench, thrusting a hand through my hair. “No.” I quickly deny it and then stop. “Well, kind of.”
Coach pushes out a frustrated breath. “Which one is it, Tommy? Yes or fucking no?”
I throw my arms out to the sides. “Neither!” I announce. “What he’s reporting happened a while back, and he’s twisted the story to make me look like the perpetrator.”
Coach stands and walks across to me, both hands propped on his hips. “Our team is trying to get the post taken down, and your agent has been blowing up your phone for the past half hour because right now, you look every bit the guilty party. Why would the guy lie, Tommy?”
I switched my phone off after I listened to Jenna’s voicemail.
“I hit him for a good fucking reason,” I explain, my voice shaking with rage.
“Why?” Coach presses. “I need more than that from you, Tommy. The GM is ready to put you on waivers.”
What strikes me most in all of this is the way Coach Morgan sounds desperate for my alibi, almost like he’s pleading with me to give him something plausible.
My entire time with the Blades has been a battle with him and his doubts over me as a player.
But that’s not what I’m witnessing in this moment.
“I thought this would be your perfect excuse to ship me out,” I tell him straight, my voice devoid of sarcasm.
Coach looks off to the side and then back at me again, and I’m relieved he isn’t provoked by my question. I’m genuinely looking for an answer because I need to know if he really is an ally.
“You might be a first-rate asshole at times, Tommy, but I already told you that you’re a gifted player.
Plus …” He trails off, pausing for thought.
“Sawyer has asked me to give you a second chance. I don’t know what you guys have discussed, and I get that he isn’t our captain anymore, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t respect his opinion. ”
He steps toward me, close enough so our interaction feels more personal.
“I might have retired a few seasons back, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what it’s like to play with the weight of the world resting on your shoulders.
I know your place on this team means something to you.
And I want you to keep it and make a proper go of your career as a Blades defenseman.
If you weren’t worth it, Sawyer wouldn’t have come to me, and I wouldn’t be harboring this gut feeling. ”
“Gut feeling?” I question.
Coach nods his head once. “That you’re ten times the man your dad is.”
I drop my head to hide my eyes, blinking rapidly to clear my vision.
“I hit Ethan because he didn’t have good intentions with the girl he was walking home.
She’d asked him to let go of her, and he didn’t.
” With my emotions under control, I finally lift my head and pin Coach with a look that cannot be misinterpreted.
“I know a predator when I see one, and he is the really bad kind. I wanted to make sure he was clear never to come near the girl again, and I thought he’d gotten the message when I told him to straighten out his life. ”
Coach just stares back at me.
“You have to believe me,” I add. “I swear to God, I’m telling the truth.”
“And the girl? Who was she?” Coach asks.
My gaze is back on the floor. “I can’t say. That’s her private business to tell, and I doubt she wants anything to do with me or this situation.”
Coach clears his throat. “I can respect that, Tommy. And for what it’s worth, I think that’s noble of you to keep her confidence.”
More emotions sting my senses. “So, what happens now?” I ask.
“Look at me, Tommy.”
I shake my head, eyes still fixed on the floor. “Not right now, Coach.”
“Tommy,” he repeats, only earning another headshake from me.
“I need you to head home while we try and get this PR nightmare under control. Speak with your agent and take some advice. I’ll talk with the GM.
We have to tread really fucking lightly here; if we accuse Ethan Hadley of lying or, at best, twisting the story, then we could make the situation way worse. ”
“I can’t play, can I?” I ask.
“Tommy …”
“Just”—I hold up a hand, refusing to lift my head—“confirm what I already know. I can’t play this Friday, can I?”
Silence descends on the room before Coach finally speaks. “No, Tommy. Right now, the team needs you to stay away.”