Chapter Thirty-Three #2
She did not ask about the save, the contract or the parade. She had enough material for the notebook without making him repeat himself.
Matvei noticed.
His eyes moved toward her once before the scrum ended.
The room emptied slowly afterward. Tessa spoke with Viktor near the doorway about his plans for the summer. He had not made any decision about his future beyond completing rehabilitation and returning home with his family.
“Are you considering retirement?” she asked.
Viktor smiled.
“I’ve been considering retirement since training camp.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the one you get today.”
He lifted the equipment bag toward one shoulder.
“Ask me after the parade.”
Tessa wrote the phrase down.
Viktor’s answer created a new possible story.
The listing remained in the back of her mind through all of it.
If she applied for the Tides beat, this might be the final Convoy availability she covered as the team’s primary reporter.
The possibility made every question feel different.
She did not know whether that was evidence she wanted to leave or proof she did not.
Elaine called before Tessa left the arena.
“I assume you saw the internal posting.”
Tessa stopped near the elevator.
“Yes.”
“What did you think?”
The question carried no obvious expectation.
Tessa pressed the button for the garage.
“I think the salary range is encouraging.”
“That was intentional.”
“The paper is serious.”
“Also intentional.”
The elevator arrived.
Tessa stepped inside alone.
“Did you have to fight for it?” she asked.
“A little.”
“How much?”
“Enough that I’m not discussing it before lunch.”
Tessa smiled.
Elaine continued.
“I told them we cannot announce that Halifax deserves a major professional women’s franchise, then cover it like a community sports league. If we want readership, we need someone there every day.”
“And travel?”
“Full travel.”
“Every road game?”
“We’ll see what the league schedule looks like, but the budget is built around regular travel, yes.”
Tessa leaned against the elevator wall.
The answer mattered.
A beat without travel was not truly a beat. It was reacting to home games and press releases while missing the relationships formed during long road stretches and the stories that emerged away from public events.
“This is internal first,” Tessa said.
“For five days.”
“Is anyone interested?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“I am not asking for names.”
“You are asking whether you have competition.”
Tessa looked at the closed doors.
“Maybe.”
Elaine became quiet.
“Are you interested?”
The elevator reached the garage.
Tessa did not step out immediately.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fair.”
“I’ve been on the Convoy beat for one season.”
“I’m aware.”
“They just won the Cup.”
“Also aware.”
“It feels strange to consider leaving now.”
“It probably should.”
The doors began closing. Tessa pushed the button to hold them and stepped into the garage.
“Would applying be viewed as abandoning the NHL beat?” she asked.
“By whom?”
“I don’t know. People.”
“People are not hiring.”
“Editors.”
“I’m the editor.”
Tessa waited.
Elaine sighed.
“If you apply, I will consider you based on the work. I am not going to view interest in the Tides as evidence you could not handle the Convoy beat.”
“That is not exactly what I asked.”
“No, but it is what you are afraid of.”
Tessa walked toward her car.
The garage remained nearly empty now that the players had left.
“What if it looks like a step down?” she asked.
“Do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then figure that out before Friday.”
Elaine’s tone softened.
“The salary is similar because I do not think it is a junior job. The league is different. The audience will be different. The access and travel might be less established. But whoever gets it will be covering a major professional team from the first day it exists.”
Tessa looked toward the arena doors.
“Would you be disappointed if I left the Convoy beat?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised her.
Elaine continued before Tessa could respond.
“You are good at it. You built credibility quickly, and you just covered a championship. Replacing you would be difficult.”
“Then why tell me that?”
“Because I am not going to pretend I want you to apply if I don’t know whether you want it. I’m also not going to discourage you because it would make my staffing easier.”
Tessa unlocked the car.
“If I applied and did not get it?”
“Then you would still have the job you currently have.”
“Would things be strange?”
“Only if you made them strange.”
The answer sounded familiar.
Tessa smiled slightly.
“I need to think.”
“That is why we posted internally first.”
Elaine paused.
“One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Do not apply because you believe covering women means caring more, and do not stay on the Convoy because you believe the NHL is the only serious hockey. Both would be lazy decisions.”
The sentence settled heavily.
Tessa opened the driver’s door.
“What is the non-lazy decision?”
“The one you can explain without using the word supposed.”
Elaine ended the call.
Tessa remained beside the car.
The NHL was supposed to be the peak.
She understood exactly why Elaine had chosen that word.
Matvei’s house no longer looked like the controlled space it had been during the season.
Championship gifts filled the kitchen island.
Bottles of wine, framed photographs, cards and food baskets had arrived from sponsors, teammates and people Matvei barely knew.
A large flower arrangement from his mother occupied the center of the table despite the fact that she had been in Halifax when she ordered it.
His equipment bag sat near the garage door.
Tessa entered through the front door without knocking.
The freedom felt unfamiliar.
Matvei looked up from the couch.
He wore sweatpants and no shirt, one arm stretched across the back cushion. A replay of Game 7 played on television without sound.
“You’re watching again?” Tessa asked.
“No.”
She looked toward the screen.
“You are literally watching it.”
“It is on.”
“You have the remote.”
Matvei picked it up and turned off the television.
“Now no.”
Tessa smiled and placed her bag near the door.
He stood.
The first kiss remained soft.
The second did not.
Matvei wrapped both arms around her waist and drew her closer. Tessa’s hands moved over his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin and the solid reality of him outside equipment.
They had not been alone since the night before the Final began.
The thought entered both of them at once.
Matvei kissed her neck.
Tessa closed her eyes.
For several seconds, the job posting disappeared beneath the physical relief of being able to touch him without an alarm, flight or game waiting.
Then Matvei drew back.
“You are thinking.”
“That is a rude thing to say while kissing me.”
“True.”
Tessa touched the scar along his jaw.
“I have something to tell you.”
His expression changed.
“Bad?”
“No.”
“Work?”
“Yes.”
“Bad.”
She laughed.
“Not necessarily.”
Matvei took her hand and led her toward the couch. Tessa sat beside him, turning enough to face him.
“The Tribune posted the Tides beat internally this morning.”
He waited.
“A full-time reporter,” she continued. “Dedicated beat. Travel. Similar salary to what I make now.”
Matvei looked toward her.
“You want?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
The answer came too quickly.
Tessa frowned.
“That is not helpful.”
“You are happy when talk Tides.”
“I am happy when I talk about the Convoy too.”
“Different.”
“How?”
Matvei considered it.
“With Convoy, you explain.”
“I explain for a living.”
“With Tides, you ask many questions.”
“That is also the job.”
He shook his head.
“Not same.”
Tessa drew one leg beneath her.
“What do you think I should do?”
Matvei looked immediately uncomfortable.
“No.”
“No what?”
“I do not say.”
“You have opinions about everything.”
“Yes.”
“You spent half of Clueless arguing that Cher’s romance violated family boundaries.”
“It does.”
“You told me Elaine’s original goaltending assignment was a bad idea without knowing what it was.”
“Probably.”
“You absolutely have an opinion.”
Matvei’s hand moved toward her knee.
“I do not want push.”
The seriousness in his voice stopped the teasing.
Tessa looked down at his hand.
“Because it would solve our problem.”
“Yes.”
The answer remained quiet.
If she covered the Tides, Matvei would no longer be part of her beat. She could attend games without a credential. They could walk through Halifax together, eat in restaurants without renting the building and allow photographs to exist.
She could meet his mother.
Stand on the ice.
Be introduced as his girlfriend without someone questioning whether every story she had written belonged beneath a disclaimer.
The job would remove the conflict that had shaped their entire relationship.
Tessa hated that the benefit made her interest feel less trustworthy.
“What would you want if the relationship were the only consideration?” she asked.
Matvei’s fingers tightened slightly around her knee.
“You.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Yes.”
“Would you want me off the Convoy beat?”
He looked away.
Tessa waited.
Matvei exhaled.
“I want take you dinner.”
“We did that.”
“Empty restaurant.”
“It was beautiful.”
“Yes. But empty.”
His gaze returned.
“I want you at game when not work. I want Mama meet you. I want people know.”
The honesty warmed and hurt at the same time.
“So you want me to apply.”
“No.”
Tessa frowned.
“You just listed all the reasons you do.”
“For me.”
“Yes.”
“You ask job.”
“They are connected.”
“Should not be only.”
“I know.”
Matvei shifted closer.
“If you leave because me, later maybe angry.”
“At you?”
“Yes.”
“I would not.”
“You do not know.”
Neither did he.
That was the problem.
Tessa rested her hand over his.
“What if I want the Tides job and I also want what it changes for us?”
“Then good.”
“You are making this sound easy.”
“No.”
“What if part of me only wants the job because I am tired of hiding?”
Matvei looked toward the dark television.
“Then maybe bad.”
“Why?”
“Because hiding ends anyway.”
Tessa studied him.
“How?”
“I do not know.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“No.”
He turned back toward her.