Chapter 23
NOAH
The walls of the conference room are closing in around me as the air is sucked out of my lungs.
The door shuts, and for a moment Dad and I just stand there. Him by the door. Me by the window. Neither of us knowing where to start.
“Sit down, Noah.”
I sit. He takes the chair across from me, a deep sigh expelling from his lips. “How long?” he asks.
“Since probation ended. Six weeks.”
“And before that?”
I don’t answer.
“Noah. I need the truth. All of it.”
“We kissed once during probation, on the night of the Edmonton game. Then I pushed him away and told him it couldn’t happen. We didn’t...it didn’t become physical until after probation ended.”
“But you had feelings for him before that.”
I swallow hard.
“Yes.”
Dad leans back and runs a hand over his worn face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew how it would look. Coach’s son involved with a player. A player I was supervising. It compromises everything.”
“I tried to call you last night. Twelve times. You didn’t answer,” Dad says.
“I know. I couldn’t...I needed time to think.”
“While the videos were spreading. While everyone was calling me asking if I knew my son was sleeping with one of my players.” His voice is tight. “I found out the same way everyone else did, Noah.”
He leans toward me. “You made a choice to hide a relationship that puts my career, your career, and this entire organization at risk.”
The words land like a lead weight in my gut.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t fix this, Noah. Sorry doesn’t undo the videos. Sorry doesn’t stop the league investigation or the media circus or the questions I’m going to face about whether I knew my son was sleeping with one of my players.”
“You didn’t know.”
“But people will wonder. They’ll ask if I covered for you. If I turned a blind eye. If I compromised team integrity to protect you.” He stands, paces to the window. “Do you understand what you’ve done? Not just to yourself, but to me? To this organization?”
“I never meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant. I care what you did.” His lips twist. “You jeopardized everything. Your career, Masterson’s career, my reputation. For what? A relationship you knew you couldn’t have?”
“I love him.”
The words rush out before I can stop them.
Dad recoils. “What?”
“I love him. And I know that doesn’t change anything. I know it doesn’t make this okay. But you asked why I did it, and that’s why.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Does he love you?”
“He says he does.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yes.”
“Even though he punched someone and got you both exposed?”
“He was defending us. Someone used a slur, and he—”
“He lost control. Just like he did at Puck Fest.” Dad says. “You spent two months teaching him restraint. And the second it mattered, he forgot everything.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair? You want to talk about fair?” His voice rises.
“Is it fair that I’m going to spend the next month answering questions about my son’s relationship with a player?
Is it fair that Bob Marshall has to defend his decision to hire you?
Is it fair that every disciplinary decision I’ve made this season is now going to be questioned? ”
“No. It’s not fair. But I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
“But it did. And now we have to deal with the consequences.”
He’s right. I know he’s right.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Noah, I can’t tell you what to do here. You’re an adult. This is your life.” He’s quiet for a moment. “But I need you to understand what this costs. Not just you. Not just Masterson. Everyone around you.”
“I know.”
“You had every chance to tell me about it before the world found out.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“How about the truth? How about trusting me enough to tell me before the entire world found out?” His voice cracks. “You’re my son. And I had to watch you kiss another man on a video someone sent me while asking if I knew about it.”
The pain in his voice destroys me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. But sorry doesn’t fix this.” He runs a hand through his hair. “The league is going to investigate the probation process. They’re going to ask if you gave him special treatment. If I knew and looked the other way. If Marshall hired you knowing you’d compromise the organization.”
“I didn’t give him special treatment.”
“It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do. It matters what it looks like. And it looks bad, Noah.” He sits down heavily.
“You didn’t know.”
“Yeah.” He looks at me. “But the worst part is, I’m more hurt that you didn’t trust me than I am angry about the relationship itself.”
That breaks me.
“I wanted to tell you. So many times. But I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of disappointing you. Of you looking at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
He stands. “Well, now you have to figure out what you’re going to do. About Marshall’s statement. About your job. About Danny. I can’t make those decisions for you.”
“What do you think I should do?”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
“I think you need to decide what you can live with. And whether this relationship can survive what’s coming.”
“What if it can’t?”
“Then you make the hard choice. Like adults do.” He moves toward the door. “I love you, Noah. But I’m angry and disappointed right now. And I need some time to process this.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll get through it. We’re family. That doesn’t change.”
He pauses. “We should get back. Marshall’s waiting.”
We walk back to his office in silence.
When we enter, Danny’s still sitting there, looking like he’s been tortured for the last twenty minutes. His eyes flicker to mine.
I look away.
Marshall glances between us. “Everything sorted?”
“Noah knows what he needs to do,” my father says quietly.
“Good.” Marshall looks at me. “I need a statement. Can you have that drafted in an hour?”
“And Masterson.” Marshall turns to Danny. “You’re on administrative leave until the league makes their decision. Don’t come to practice. Don’t come to games. Stay away from the arena and away from media.”
“For how long?” Danny asks.
“However long it takes.”
Danny stands. “Am I allowed to talk to Noah?”
Marshall and my father exchange looks.
“That’s probably not a good idea right now,” Dad says. “Until this gets sorted out.”
“You’re telling me I can’t see him?”
“I’m telling you that every interaction you two have is going to be scrutinized. So yes. For now, stay away from each other.”
Danny looks at me. I force myself to meet his eyes.
He sees something there. Understanding maybe. Or resignation.
“Fine,” he says.
He leaves without another word.
Marshall turns to me. “Get that statement drafted. I want to see it before it goes out.”
I leave and go to my office. I sink into my desk chair and open a blank document.
I think about what my father said. What I can live with.
I can’t live with my father spending the next month defending himself against questions about whether he knew, whether he covered for me, whether he compromised team integrity.
I can’t live with Danny’s teammates resenting him for a suspension that costs them playoffs.
I can’t live with Marshall’s faith in me being proven wrong.
I can’t live with every game, every interview, every moment being about us instead of hockey.
But I also can’t live with losing Danny.
Except the relationship is already over. The videos made sure of that. The league investigation. The media. The scrutiny.
We can’t survive it. Not with everyone watching. Not with this much at stake.
All that’s left is making it official. Trying to salvage what little control I have left.
I start typing.
Statement from Noah Enver, Director of Communications: I acknowledge that I was briefly involved in a personal relationship with Danny Masterson that began after his probation period concluded.
I recognize that this relationship, while not in violation of any policies, created an appearance of impropriety given my role in supervising his community service.
The relationship has ended. I am cooperating fully with any league investigation into the matter.
I apologize to the Oakland Raptors organization, our fans, and the hockey community for any confusion or concern this situation has caused.
Every word feels like a knife twisting in my heart.
I send it to Marshall. He approves it within fifteen minutes.
“Release it,” he says. “Before the afternoon news cycle.”
I post it on the team’s official channels at 2:47 PM.
Within minutes, it’s everywhere.
The comments come fast.
“Briefly involved” = damage control
Coach’s son says it’s over but bet it’s not
Notice he doesn’t say when it started during probation
PR speak for “we got caught”
I close my laptop and stare at my phone.
I didn’t warn Danny before I released the statement. I didn’t tell him I was publicly announcing our break up.
But when I pull up his contact, my finger hovers over his name.
What do I even say?
My phone buzzes with a text from Marshall.
Saw the statement. Now let the dust settle.
I stare at the message.
But dust can’t ever settle since I just lost the only person who ever mattered to me.