Chapter 10
Bianca - Monday Morning
I sat in my office Monday morning staring at my computer screen. It wasn’t a wonder Evan was so guarded about his shoulder. The little bits of things he’d mentioned about his father had me wondering, and since my father hadn’t been co-operative, I looked it up.
Brent Callahan spent three years playing for the Boston Enforcers before the organization traded him to the Vancouver Dominators.
He was married to the love of his life at twenty-two, two years after moving to Vancouver.
A year later, they welcomed their baby boy, Evan, into the world.
Brent Callahan had taken the Dominators to victory, scoring the winning goal in four back-to-back Stanley Cup games.
The following year, after signing one of the largest contracts in the Dominators’ history, he took a direct blow to the knee. After time off for surgery and rehabilitation, he never returned to the ice.
I scrolled through articles that reported he’d gotten addicted to the pain medication they’d put him on.
There was nothing in any of the sports articles for almost a year, and then the headlines started about his marriage.
They claimed things were strained and that he had depression and addiction.
There were a few pictures of him out with his wife.
It seemed they took advantage of any chance they got to photograph and write articles about him.
I continued scrolling, finally coming to articles about Evan, playing on the local junior teams, winning awards, photographed with his mother, his father always in the background, looking worse each time.
Then I came across an article highlighting the fact that Evan’s mother, Jolene, had announced her separation from Brent.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I read the article. When Jolene walked, Brent got worse. It was the next article I’d found that had stopped me from scrolling. I stared at the article. The Dragons had just drafted Evan, and shortly after, Brent Callahan committed suicide.
My stomach heaved at the thought. While I’d gathered things had been bad for Evan, I never thought something like this. I sat there, staring at the computer in shock.
“What’s got you looking so down?” I heard a familiar voice say.
I swallowed hard, tearing my eyes off the computer screen to see Evan standing at the edge of my desk, two coffees and two bags in hand. When I said nothing, he placed them down on the desk and then leaned forward to look at my screen.
“What the hell are you watching one of those romantic flicks aga—”
I could see the color drain from his face when he realized what I’d been reading, and then he stood up and glared at me.
“Evan, I can explain—”
“No, no need. I get it, you didn’t feel you could ask me about my father, so like many others, you decided it would be better to read it from the media.”
“No, that’s not it. I…I didn’t want to upset you by asking…”
“Oh, I get it. You didn’t want to upset me, so instead you went to a credible source. I’d rather you had asked the guys on the fucking team. At least I’d know you’d know the truth. Well, I hope you learned all you needed to know about me and my psychosis. I’m out of here.”
“Wait, Evan, please, let’s talk.”
“Nope, there is nothing to talk about. You have your story, so now deal with it.”
A couple of weeks had gone by since Evan found me reading articles on his father.
We’d barely spoken since. He was even grumpier and more unbearable than ever at work, and even worse when we were at home.
I did my best to avoid him, spending time out of the condo, visiting old friends, and even spending time with my father.
When he’d asked me how things were going, I just smiled and said they were fine.
It was a Tuesday morning, I’d just finished some meetings and was now in my happy place, re-setting and cleaning up the training room, wiping down tables and organizing things, getting ready for some upcoming sessions.
While most hated this part of the job, I didn’t mind.
It gave me a sense of order and a break after the chaos I’d been living at home and from dealing with an entire team of hockey players demanding my attention.
“Hey, Bianca? Do you have a second?” Tate Parker asked just as I’d just begun organizing the resistance bands.
I glanced up, smiling. I still remembered when my father had called him up from the AHL at the young age of twenty-two. Now twenty-four, he still had that wide-eyed look of someone who couldn’t believe he was still here.
“Hey, Tate, of course. What’s up?”
“I have a question regarding injury protocols.”
“Okay?” I said, turning my full attention to him. “What is it?”
“Well, I’m just a little confused. If someone were to tweak his shoulder, nothing major of course, but it’s been bothering them for a while, what exactly is the protocol? Do you tell Coach right away or…”
Immediately, my professional trainer mode kicked in. Worried that perhaps he’d hurt himself, I walked around the desk, grabbing my tablet and opening his file.
“What happened?” I asked. “I want to get this on the record.”
“Oh, nothing happened. I was more curious than anything, being newer and all.”
I took my time explaining the entire injury reporting process to him. Then I went into the difference between manageable discomfort, so he could tell the difference between mild or something that might sideline him for weeks. When I finished, I looked at him, waiting for a response.
“Does that make sense?” I asked, tapping my pen against my tablet.
“Yes, that makes perfect sense.”
“So, you’re fine then? Nothing to report?”
“Nope.” He smiled as I placed my tablet back on my desktop. “I was just curious about the procedure.”
I got up and went back over toward the resistance bands, expecting him to leave now that he had his answer. Instead, he followed me, stopping as I began organizing the bands again, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Something about the way he looked at me made my stomach flip.
“Uh, Bianca, I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to grab dinner sometime? There is supposed to be a great steakhouse downtown, and I figured…”
I swallowed hard as I continued organizing the colored bands.
“Tate, that is really sweet,” I responded, “but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
I saw his face fall, but he still smiled.
“Right. I sort of figured it was a long shot. Perhaps we could have dinner as friends?”
The familiar moment of a similar memory caused guilt to crash through me.
Tyler had done the same thing when I’d denied his invitation.
Only I needed to remember that Tate wasn’t Tyler, and he seemed genuine and harmless.
Still, I felt uneasy after learning the hard way because Tyler had appeared the same way and had hurt me badly, using me to get access to information.
“Maybe we could go out for a bite sometime,” I said, not committing to anything, hoping that he’d be happy with the answer and the conversation would be over.
“Great, if you aren’t doing anything next Friday, we could try the place. I could always pick you up,” he said, smiling.
I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, a warning from his persistence, yet I nodded. “Sounds good.”
As the words left my mouth, I had a sense that we were being watched.
“Great, we’ll connect through the week,” he said, turning and leaving the room.
I turned slowly to make sure he’d gone, and that was when I saw Evan, standing there near the water station. He held his jaw tight, his eyes dark, and clenched his hands at his sides. How long had he been there?
I smiled, only he didn’t move, and he definitely didn’t smile back, but didn’t look away either. I felt my pulse kick up as he continued to watch me. I turned my attention back to the bands, carefully sorting them although my hands were shaking.
“Please tell me you’re not actually considering that?”
Tension surrounded me as I felt someone move in behind me.
“Considering what?” I asked, not turning around.
“Going out with Parker.”
I turned around and looked at Evan, my eyebrows raised. This was the first time in two weeks he’d spoken to me, and he was going to tell me what I could or couldn’t do.
“I don’t think that’s your decision to make.”
Evan took a step closer, closing the gap between us.
“He’s bad news, Bianca,” he said, his deep voice whispering in my ear.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I know guys like him. I’ve been guys like him. He’s after something,” Evan said.
His words hit with force, and I felt my spine stiffen.
“What do you think he is after, exactly?”
“I’d guess he’s after information. Your dad has been on him about roster spots all week. He’s fighting to keep his call-up permanent. Do you think it’s a coincidence that he is suddenly interested in you, the head trainer who is related to the coach?”
A chill ran through me as Tyler’s face flashed in my mind.
That smile, his interest in my father’s strategies, the way he’d pumped me for information after pretending to care about me as we lay in bed together after sleeping together for the first time.
The humiliation I’d felt when my father ripped me apart in front of the team a few days later for divulging private information that had cost him his three players he’d been interested in acquiring to go to the team Tyler worked for.
The memory of the entire situation felt like a knife in the chest.
“Do you not think I’ve learned to spot that?” I bit out.
“Then why were you smiling at him?”
My hands curled into fists, wrapping around the resistance bands I was holding.
“I was being professional, Evan. Which is far more than I can say for you right now.”
He took another step forward, closing the gap between us even more. I could see the storm raging in his eyes.
“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, his voice dropping to that low register that did things to my body.
“Why?”