11. Weston
When I rap my knuckles on his office door early Monday morning, Hud looks up from his paperwork, sets his pen down, and sits back in his chair with a scowl.
”What do you want?” he asks gruffly. No warmth in that gravelly voice today.
I clear my throat, already second-guessing this whole apology thing. ”Got a minute, Coach?”
”Make it quick.”
This isn’t going to be one of those bright, shining career moments for me. This is a tail-between-my-legs moment that’s gonna haunt me for a while.
But it’s necessary.
I ease into the chair across from his desk. Hud sits back and crosses his arms, waiting. His scowling face spells trouble.
”I, uh, wanted to apologize for the other day at practice,” I begin, tripping over the words. ”Lost my cool with the rookie. Shouldn”t have happened.”
Hud snorts derisively. ”You think that half-assed apology cuts it?”
I wince. ”No, sir. I know I was way out of line.”
”Damn right you were. That kind of bullshit isn”t gonna fly on my team.”
”You”re absolutely right,” I agree quickly. Too quickly. Hud”s eyes narrow to slits.
I tell myself to dial this down a notch, make it sincere. I take a breath and try again. ”I”m here to own what I did. It was wrong, plain and simple. My personal life spilled onto the ice and I took it out on my teammate. It won”t happen again.”
Hud sits silent, stone-faced.
I rake a hand through my hair. ”Look, I know apologies don”t mean shit if the behavior doesn”t change. You have my word that I”ll keep my head on straight from here on out. You’ll see. I mean it.”
A muscle in Hud”s jaw twitches. He leans forward, bracing his forearms on the desk. ”Your word, huh? Not sure that and a buck fifty will get me a cup of coffee these days.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course he”s going to rake me over the coals a bit here.
”Just tell me what I need to do to make this right between us, Coach.” I meet his flinty gaze. ”I”m here to take my licks and move forward.”
Hud scrutinizes me for a long moment. I force myself to hold still under his laser-focused glare.
Finally, he sits back again, some of the fight leaving his frame. ”Takes a big man to own up when he fucks up. I can respect that.”
I exhale slowly. Progress. I’ll take it.
”But don”t think this wipes the slate clean,” Hud continues. ”You”re on thin ice right now, West. One toe out of line and you”re benched. Got it?”
”Loud and clear, Coach. And fair enough. Am I good to go?”
“No.”
I frown. “Something else we need to discuss?”
Hud chews on the end of his pen as he regards me. His championship ring glints in the lights overhead. “Do you know how my career ended?”
I shrug. I know the vague details. The rumors of them, at least. It was all kept really hush-hush by the league. “A little.”
“Long story short, I mouthed off to the wrong guys at a bar. Thought I was hot shit. On my way out, they jumped me. Busted my kneecap so bad the docs said I’d never play again.” He lowers his hand beneath the desk, probably rubbing the scar. “My career was over just like that. Bam—on top of the world one day, on my back the next. I was laid up in a hospital bed waiting for surgery that would maybe make it to where I could even walk again. Skating was out of the question. So I’m lying there, stupid and bruised and immobile. And I was just thinkin’ to myself, Damn, I want my wife. Called her and she told me she loved me and that she was on her way to see me.” He takes a slow, shuddering breath and meets my eyes. “She never made it.”
“Fuck,” I breathe before I can think better of it. “I’m sorry, Coach.”
He barely hears me. “Got t-boned by a drunk driver on her way there. Killed on impact. The only saving grace is that they said it was instant and she didn’t suffer.” His voice is quieter now. “Damn near broke me. Probably would have, if I didn”t have a baby girl to take care of. So believe me: I know all about letting your demons get the best of you. But you can”t let ”em win, son. Life knocks you down, you get your ass back up off the mat. You hear me? I’ve been on the darkest road a man can walk. I lost my career, my wife, everything I knew—and I didn’t let it destroy me. I didn’t wallow in the shit that life handed me, didn’t use it as an excuse. I powered through.”
He’s watching me, waiting for a reaction.
I don’t even know what to say. My woman didn’t die. I haven’t lost my career. But that doesn’t mean I’m not destroyed in my own way.
The difference between us is, I still have a chance at salvaging everything I love.
I nod slowly. ”I hear you, Coach.”
”Good.” He sits back, regarding me thoughtfully now. ”Like I said, it takes some balls to come in here and own your mistakes. I can respect that.”
I exhale, the tension draining from my shoulders. ”I appreciate you being willing to hear me out.”
”Oh, you”re still on thin fucking ice, West,” Hud says pointedly. ”But I see something in you. Same potential I had before it all got ripped away.”
He extends his hand over the desk. After a beat, I reach out and shake it firmly.
”Thank you for the second chance, Coach. I won”t waste it this time.”
”See that you don”t. Now, go on, get the hell outta my office.”
I stand and move toward the door, feeling like a weight has been lifted. Hand on the knob, I pause. ”For what it”s worth, I”m sorry about your wife. You didn”t deserve that.”
Hud”s expression softens just a fraction. ”Life rarely gives us what we deserve, son. Only thing we can do is play the hand we”re dealt.”
”Yes, sir,” I reply. ”I”ll remember that.”
And I will. Hud”s right—I can”t let the past define me. Time to leave the demons off the ice and focus on the future again.
I slip out the door, grateful for a second chance I”m not entirely sure I deserve. But I aim to make good on it all the same.