Chapter 23 #2
We lined up to shake hands with the opposing team. Fortunately, Willy had returned to the locker room after the fight, likely to check if his nose was broken. I hoped it was. It was the least he deserved for everything he’d said.
I glanced up at the stands one more time before I headed into the locker room. Bryn was still standing there, brow creased with concern. I hated that I couldn’t immediately go to her, reassure her.
In the locker room, the celebration was more subdued than usual, even as the lyrics of our celly song played through the speakers. I started removing my pads, tossing my uniform into the bin to be cleaned.
After I’d showered, Coach pulled me aside. “How are you feeling?”
I clenched and unclenched my fists at my side. “Pissed.”
He nodded. “It’s not like you to fight. Can you walk me through what happened out there?”
I explained about the chirping, about what the Seattle player had said. Coach’s expression darkened with each passing moment. Finally, he said, “Thank you for telling me. I’m going to speak with management to see how they want to handle this. But you did the right thing.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I hadn’t needed his approval, but it meant a lot to me.
Coach excused himself, and I went over to Kovi and fist-bumped him. “Thanks for having my back out there, man.”
“Of course. You’re my teammate. And even if you weren’t, what he said was so fucking wrong.”
I nodded, and Gabe slung his arm around my shoulder. “You know, you’re not so bad, Kovi.”
Carson barked out a laugh. “You’re not so bad either, Goldie.”
Gabe gave Carson a playful shove, and then we resumed getting ready. The NHL may no longer require players to wear suits to and from a game, but the Hawks continued to insist on it. Coach always told us that we had to look like champions on and off the ice.
It was uncomfortable at times—having to wear a suit during a flight. But he was right. I’d sometimes see pictures of the other teams getting off their bus for a game, and they looked sloppy.
“Fizzy. Kovi,” Coach called out, beckoning us over. The rest of the guys grew quiet, and I could feel their attention on us. “Daniel and I are going to answer questions at the press conference, but we’d like to have you join us. If you think you can answer questions calmly and factually.”
Shit. This was an even bigger deal than I’d feared if Daniel was joining the press conference. Though GMs like Daniel usually traveled with the team for away games, it was rare that they spoke at postgame press conferences.
I was going to have to find a way to be calm. So, I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, Coach.”
Kovi looked at me then nodded as well. We followed Coach into the media room, and the lights seemed extra bright tonight, the shutter of the cameras extra loud.
I shuffled behind the table, taking a seat next to Kovi.
Daniel, our GM and Georgia’s brother, was already there, and Coach took a seat beside him.
“I’m sure you all have questions about what happened tonight,” Daniel said, and the room immediately went quiet. “What happened on the ice was unfortunate, and we are grateful to the referees who saw and understood the situation for what it was.”
Daniel toyed with the cuff of his dress shirt. “One of the members of the opposing team made some inappropriate comments about a person we all care deeply about.”
“Who was it?” called out a reporter.
“It doesn’t matter.” Daniel waved a hand through the air. “What matters is that the Hawks have a zero-tolerance policy for ‘locker-room talk,’ on or off the ice. It is not part of our team culture nor the culture we want for the league.”
“Do you think Wilson from Seattle should be punished?” someone asked.
“He was given a penalty, both for fighting and for instigating the fight, which we think was fair under the circumstances.”
Fair? I clenched my jaw to keep from saying anything. It was the bare minimum.
“Yes, but do you believe he should be punished by the league?” someone else asked.
It was a good thing Daniel was doing most of the talking, because there was no way I would’ve remained as composed as he was.
“That’s up to the league to decide,” he said. “Personally, I am committed to changing the culture of our sport.”
“Frasier, this was your first-ever fight on the ice. Do you think violence was the best way to handle the situation?”
I rubbed the back of my neck but didn’t apologize. Because I had absolutely no remorse or regret for what I’d done. “Ordinarily, I’d say no. But Wilson’s comments were completely unacceptable.”
“Could you shed some light on what those comments were?”
They weren’t going to let this go, were they?
Daniel answered that one. “No. They do not bear repeating.” His tone was curt, his impatience clear.
Just thinking about it had me clenching my fists, wishing I could hit the bastard again. Harder. Fucking hat trick.
“Frasier, were you and Wilson fighting over Bryn Morgan? Your current partner, who was previously married to your teammate.”
I took a slow, deep breath, but it did nothing to calm me. I was beginning to think it was a bad idea for me to be here. But I leaned forward and spoke into my mic. “No comment.”
“Coach,” someone in the audience said. “What are your thoughts after the game?”
Declan leaned forward. “I’m proud of my team. Do I condone fighting? No. But I stand behind my men’s decision. They might have done the ‘wrong’ thing, but they did it for the right reasons.”
I’d always respected Declan Cross, but I’d never been more grateful to have him as the leader of our team than in that moment.
He’d been a legend on the ice himself, a player for the Hawks years ago, before his career had been cut short by an injury.
And while his stats were impressive, it was his courage to be himself that had always made me admire him on a personal level.
He’d been the first NHL player to come out publicly.
At the time, it had been huge. I could only imagine the strength it had taken him to do so.
He was committed to his family. He’d proposed to his husband, James Thorne, on the ice.
And he’d coached one of his twin daughters, helping her win an Olympic gold medal.
I was touched by his comment, grateful that he had my back.
I didn’t know what the culture of the Hawks had been like before I’d been traded.
Declan had come on as head coach around the same time that I’d joined the team, and it seemed like he was part of a much bigger culture shift for the Hawks.
I’d played on other teams, and I’d been close to my teammates.
But I’d never been as proud to play for an organization as I was in this moment.
After a few more questions, we exited the room.
“Good job tonight, boys,” Daniel said, clapping me on the back. “I believe there’s someone waiting for you.”
I glanced down the end of the hall where Bryn was standing with Georgia and Kylie. Daniel motioned for security to let them through. I sprinted toward Bryn, wrapping her in my arms.
When I released her, she searched me over as if inspecting for any injuries. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “The trainer checked me out, and I’m good.”
“Are you sure? Do you have a headache? Any dizziness?” She grabbed a penlight from her pocket and shone it in my eye like she would one of her patients.
“Bryn.” I grasped her wrist, gently lowering her hand. “I’m okay. I promise.”
I placed our clasped hands over her heart. Over the number six patch that represented Derek. I tapped twice. I’m okay.
Her shoulders relaxed, but only a little. She continued to keep a watchful eye on me, as if unwilling to believe it was true.
I leaned in, keeping my voice low though my tone was rife with innuendo. “If you’re concerned, you can do a thorough examination later.”
She smiled, even as she gripped my shirt, holding me close. “Trust me. I will.”