Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
ALEXIO
“…and I’m trying to be understanding here, babe. Really, I am. You know I love you more than anything, but I can only excuse so much. That was a fucking shit show, and you and I both know it.”
“I get it. And you know I don’t want any special favors from you.”
For a moment, I had no idea where I was. Then, as I peeled an eye open, I remembered. I was in Tucker Banks’s office. And now, I wasn’t alone. Tucker—it had to be him, considering the other man beside him was Jonah, was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
Jonah was standing in front of him, fingers squeezing tightly on the handle of his cane.
The mood was tense, and I couldn’t help but wonder why the fuck they were saying all of this with me in the room. It sounded like a goddamn lover’s quarrel.
“It’s not exactly easy to set everything aside, considering how long we’ve—”
“This is why I was hesitant telling you about the fucking coaching job,” Jonah said, throwing his free hand into the air. “Fuck. Can you just ream me out, tell me I fucked up, and move on with your night?”
“You want me to call you a bad boy?” Tucker asked with a small grin.
My heart leapt in my chest. Oh, holy shit. Jonah was fucking his coach. That was…interesting information. And I still had no idea why Tucker was allowing this to happen with witnesses.
“Shut the fuck up, Tucker, or I’m going to tell Amedeo you were trying to seduce me in your office.”
Tucker smirked, then sighed as his smile dropped. “Look, obviously, something’s going on with you—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jonah snapped. “I just need a fucking minute, okay?”
Tucker sighed. “Whatever. Hit the showers. But if you’re this fucked in practice tomorrow, I’m going to hog-tie you and let Ford sit on you until you tell us everything.”
Jonah swore under his breath, then reached out with his free hand and felt around until he found the door handle. Between two tense breaths, he was gone, and Tucker collapsed in his chair, putting his hands over his face.
I figured it was probably time to address that whole awkward mess. “So, uh…”
Tucker reared back so fast his chair tipped over, and he only barely caught himself on the wall. He struggled to stand for a second, his legs like a newborn giraffe, but he was breathing heavily and looked terrified.
“Who the fuck is there?” He fumbled across his desk with his hands, and that’s when it struck me. He couldn’t see that I was there.
“The coaches are blind too? How the hell do you know what’s going on during plays?”
Tucker sat up straighter, and that’s when I realized he had glasses in his hands. He shoved them on his face, and his eyes narrowed. “You—wait. Zeki?”
So he could see me?
“How the fuck did you get in my office?” he demanded.
I shrugged and took a step closer. “Uh, some little intern let me in.”
“Coby. I’m going to fucking kill him.” He ran a shaking hand down his face, and then his gaze snapped up as I sat down across from him.
“Anyway, first of all, fuck you. Blind coaches can do the job just as well as a sighted one. That was a shitty-ass take. Secondly, for the love of Christ, announce yourself if you’re in a room around here.
No one likes that kind of prank, and no one needs a heart attack right now. ”
I licked my lips, feeling like shit because I hadn’t meant to come across that way. “I wasn’t playing a prank. I was asleep.”
Tucker stared at me. “Asleep?”
“It’s been a rough couple of weeks,” I told him. It had been a rough couple of months, but I wasn’t going to talk to him about that.
Tucker opened his mouth, then shut it and fell back into his chair before taking a breath and asking, “What can I help you with? I’m assuming you aren’t here to hang out.”
I almost laughed, but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t seem to make a sound. It took me a few seconds to gather my thoughts. “This…thing. This ambassadorship,” I said, fumbling the word a little.
His lips twitched. “Right. Noah’s pet project.”
“So you think it’s fucking ridiculous too?” I sat forward and met his gaze. “I mean, what is the point?”
He sighed. “I know. The fucking audacity of his ego.”
“I mean, humiliating the Glaciers all for what? I don’t—”
“Hold the fuck up,” Tucker said, his tone ice-cold. My jaw snapped shut. “What do you mean, humiliating the Glaciers?”
I spread my hands. “I mean, asking us to put on blindfolds and wobble around the ice to prove what you do is harder than what we do? You don’t think that’s just a lesson in humiliation?”
“You think we wobble around on the ice?”
“I…well.” My words died in the back of my throat. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just…um…” I was drowning.
He stared at me, folding his hands under his chin. I felt like I was being scolded at school.
Swallowing thickly, I shrugged. “I haven’t watched a lot of your games, but no. I don’t think your players do. I think we will. And I don’t understand the point. It’s not like any of us will ever be blind—”
He snorted loudly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought when I got drafted to the NHL. Then a car accident took both my legs and one eye.”
I felt like I’d been struck in the chest. I was a complete moron for walking into that office entirely unprepared. And he was letting me squirm in my discomfort.
After a short forever, he seemed to take pity on me and leaned back.
“I also didn’t jump into a pair of prosthetics, shove those feet into skates, and take to the ice either.
I did wobble around for years. But I don’t think this is about humiliation.
I think this is about feeling sorry for us, and that’s what pisses me the fuck off. ”
I frowned. “Feeling sorry for you?”
“Noah thinks he’s doing us a fucking favor by using the Glaciers to get attention.
He’s been to the meetings. He knows the organization is deliberately shorting us when it comes to players’ salaries and equipment and ad spots.
They think we can ride the backs of the NHL and call it a day, like we’re not our own goddamn league.
Like my boys don’t work themselves into just as much exhaustion as you all do for their fucking cup. ”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure my opinion was welcome.
He passed a hand down his face, then took off his glasses and set them down on his desk before leaning back again. “Did you come here to plead your case about canceling the media shit?”
I shrugged. “I…suppose so.”
He sighed again. “Well, you’re out of luck, my friend.
It’s over my head. I’m just the coach. I’m basically the organization’s bitch, and I go where I’m told and do what I’m told.
You wanna go bark up a tree—hell, you want to go piss on it—you need to find the commissioner.
Or the GMs if you don’t feel like climbing that high. My hands are tied.”
I stood up. I didn’t really think I was going to get anywhere anyway, but it was worth a shot. “How…I mean…what will it be like? This whole media thing?”
Tucker grimaced. “We’ll slap a blindfold on you, shove you on the ice, and let the cameras film you jackasses running into each other and falling on your faces,” he said, straight-faced and deadpan.
I stared at him, and after a second, he scoffed.
“Unclench your asshole, Zeki. We have goggles that simulate various eye conditions. You get to pick a pair, then someone on our team—” He trailed off and frowned. “You play defense, yeah?”
“Mm.”
“So you’ll probably be with Tiago. Good guy, kind of a dick, but he won’t make fun of you. He’ll guide you around the rink and show you how he plays with his limited vision—”
“Limited?”
Tucker’s mouth twitched. “You thought they all couldn’t see anything?”
“I…thought that’s what blind meant,” I confessed.
He groaned. “Yeah, you fucking need this little circus event. Show up, keep an open mind, try not to let any more ableist garbage fall out of your mouth, and you might actually have a good time.”
I took a step back. “Okay, but…they can see?”
He stared at me, then said, “Google is free, bud. Try it.” And with that, he turned toward his computer, and I wasn’t so thick I didn’t realize a dismissal when I saw one.
I didn’t bother saying goodbye as I let myself out, shuffling into the hallway, where I almost collided immediately with a familiar body.
Jonah’s eyes were wide and staring, his brow furrowed. “I fucking knew I recognized that cologne. What is that? Brut?”
“I don’t know,” I grumbled, taking a step back.
“You smell like my granddad right before he died.”
“Fuck off.”
He snorted. “Was there a reason you were creeping in on my meeting with Tucker? Do you get that much of a hard-on watching me get chewed out by my coach?”
“Not everything is about you, dickhead,” I snarled. I tried to pass him, but with freaky precision, he stuck his cane out in front of me, and I nearly fell on my face. “You’re so fucking lucky I’m not interested in beating the shit out of blind people.”
“Right. Yeah. Lucky.” Jonah bared his teeth at me. “It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re terrified I’d be better at fighting than you.”
“You’re a goalie. What do you know about fighting?”
“I grew up a blind nerd. Trust me, I know a lot.” There was an edge to his tone that I wanted to ask about, but I wasn’t brave enough.
I let out a sigh. “This wasn’t about you. I didn’t know you’d be there tonight. I just had some questions about the event bullshit my coach has us doing with your team.”
“Right.” He licked his lips. “Did you—ah. Did you tell Tucker about tonight?”
“Your dad? The one you abandoned in his apartment, just like the rest of your family has done?”
His face went beet red. “Fuck you. You have no idea what I—” He growled, and I hated—hated—that the sound went right to my dick. “Never mind. Fuck off. Just don’t say anything, please. I’m trying to figure out how to handle it.”