Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
ESME
What should have been the first day of on-ice training for the upcoming season had ended before it had started for me. I was seated at a giant conference table with three photos in front of me. I’d blinked numerous times when Anders had fanned them out, my eyes unable to process what I was seeing. All three were grainy and slightly out of focus yet still clear enough to make my face out. My agent, Cass, sat on one side of me, her nose flaring with anger.
Staring at the pictures, I knew my stomach should have been roiling. Even with the beanie on, my face was recognizable—as was the red shirt of the man I was pressed against on the dance floor. Red Shirt’s face was turned away in all the pictures, but seeing the photos brought up memories of two months ago and the man my brain had stubbornly refused to forget. If I closed my eyes, I could still taste whiskey on his lips and the sweat on his shoulder.
Coach Anders crossed his arms and stared at me like he was waiting for me to say something. I bit my tongue, refusing to open my mouth, refusing to ruin the nostalgia and happiness the picture brought to me.
I startled when Cass kicked my ankle under the table. When our eyes met, she gave me a perplexed look, one asking what the hell I was doing but also where the hell my mind had gone. If it was clear to her I wasn’t in the conference room, I was certain it was clear to Anders as well. If I knew Coach at all, I knew my lack of interest in the reason for this meeting was only pissing him off more. At the moment, I didn’t care. I was only happy to get to see the pictures of Red Shirt as hard copy proof the night had existed in more than just my imagination.
Anders finally had enough of waiting. “Well?”
Looking into his face, I had no answers. I’d played for Anders and the Bulldogs longer than I’d lived with my parents in Québec. This life was all I knew, but Red Shirt was in front of me, reminding me there was something else. Something I’d ignored. Something I barely recognized as a part of myself.
“Well?” Anders poked a finger at the photo. “Is this you?”
Was I supposed to deny it?
I glanced over to Cass, who was blinking at Anders like he was an idiot.
Anders was trying to back me into a corner and I wasn’t taking the bait. “Looks like me.” I lifted a shoulder while trying not to give anything away.
Cass pressed her pink lips together in an effort to hide her amusement.
Anders didn’t find it as amusing as Cass and his bushy eyebrows knitted together in frustration. He was a dinosaur among dinosaurs in this organization. He was the longest-tenured coach in professional hockey and had been with Boston longer than anyone but the owners. Though he was years overdue for retirement, his winning record kept him well-compensated and well-loved by everyone above him and he could do almost no wrong in their eyes.
“ Looks and is are two different things, Esme.”
I nodded.
“So is it you?”
I lifted a shoulder again. “Looks like me.”
When I didn’t say more, Anders's gray eyes narrowed on me. “Esme, you have been like a son to me. Do not lie to me! If this is you, we have issues.”
“I haven’t lied to you. And, hypothetically, if it is me, why would it be an issue?”
“We cannot have the faces of our team, our brand , being caught in such compromising positions.”
Something inside me snapped, and despite feeling Cass’s hand land on my arm in an effort to get me to calm down before I said something stupid, words were spilling from me. “Compromising positions? Why was it a… I think you used the words lapse in judgment when Beanners was caught making out with a woman not his wife two seasons ago? And I’m pretty sure Expo’s public indecency charge last summer was an alcohol-induced poor decision. But if I were to be caught dancing with a guy in a club, with our clothes on, when I’m not otherwise in a relationship, it would be a compromising position . Is that right?”
Cass kicked me harder than she had the first time and shot me a look of death. I’d said too much while not saying anything at all.
“You are the captain of the Bulldogs. Our captain is held to a higher standard. A moral standard. I will not have our leader out there grinding against anything that moves. What if this got out?”
“Esme—” Cass growled in a low, warning tone.
I ignored her. “No, if that was a red dress instead of a red T-shirt, we wouldn’t be here. Shell was photographed last month in LA at a party with a barely dressed woman. Did you call him in here and ask if it was him? What about Pauly? He was in Cabo in June with a woman on each side. Did he get the third degree?”
There was a pregnant pause, and I waited just long enough to give Coach a chance to really take in what I’d said. When he didn’t respond, I nodded my head as though he’d confirmed something. “What you’re telling me is it’s okay for one of your players to party with barely dressed women, cheat on his wife, or pull his dick out while drunk as long as it doesn’t involve another man.”
Cass fell back in her chair and groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t pay me enough for this.”
“You have yet to deny it’s you in the picture,” Anders said, ignoring my agent.
“And I’ve yet to confirm it’s me either. I’ve only confirmed that you’re homophobic.”
Silence fell in the room, a tense, uncomfortable silence. Then Anders twisted the knife in my stomach. “I do not think you are the right choice to lead this team any longer.”
I blinked, blinked again, and waited for the roiling in my stomach to pass. Since I’d signed on sixteen years earlier, I’d given everything to Anders and the Bulldogs. For fifteen seasons and over a thousand games played, I’d given everything to an organization willing to remove my C for something I hadn’t even confirmed.
And why hadn’t I denied it? I could have denied it. The pictures were grainy enough there was room for doubt. It would have been so easy to say it wasn’t me. That I had no idea who the person in the picture was or where the picture had been taken.
But I couldn’t.
Denying the person in the picture was me was denying myself again. Denying the night had happened. Denying Red Shirt had been real. The only thing worse than the churning in my stomach was the breaking of my heart at the thought of him not being real.
“I think it’s in the best interest of the team if I retire.”
Cass gasped, and Anders looked as though I’d slapped him and he began to backtrack. “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, Esme. You’re like a son to me.”
“A son you would disown over a picture. I don’t want this—what did you call it again? An incident? I don’t want this incident hanging over my head, or the heads of the rest of the team, throughout the preseason. Or, as you said, what if it gets out?” Which meant it wasn’t out yet. This wasn’t a photo they’d pulled up on social media somewhere. If they had, it would have been news months earlier.
I felt violated. In the end, that was what made me stick with my resolve.
“My time in hockey is over. I’m retiring.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cass looked more nervous than I felt.
I spun away from the mirror in the bathroom we were standing in to look her in the eyes. “I’m sure. It needs to be done.”
She shook her head. “We could take this to the Players’ Union. They wouldn’t let it slide.”
“We can’t.” I’d already thought about it. If I took it to the Players’ Union, I would need to come out. Even if it set the wheels in motion for Anders to lose his job, it wouldn’t be immediate and ownership wouldn’t want me on the team any longer. My career as I knew it was over. “And I can’t risk that guy being found out. He doesn’t deserve this. Didn’t sign up for more than a one-night fuck.”
Cass blew out a frustrated breath, her slim cheeks puffing out and her pink lips forming a frustrated pout. “There’s nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?”
“No, there’s not. Cass, he was worried about the photos getting out . Not that the photos were out. Edwards, Scott, and Martin were in Knoxville with me, and one of them was clearly at the bar with me. They sat on these for months. Whatever the reason, it’s calculated, and I will never be able to trust them again.” There were a handful of other people who knew I’d gone to Knoxville that week for a commercial shoot too—the head office staff, Cass, Anders, and two of the players I was closest with.
Cass’s eyes widened, the deep brown reflecting the horrible lighting. “Holy shit. I’d never thought of that.”
“Exactly. It’s done. It’s time for me to go out on my own terms, without dragging some innocent guy into this.”
She huffed in resigned frustration. “This is bullshit. Total, utter bullshit.” Then she looked up at me. “Do you still have his contact info?”
I scoffed and turned back to the mirror to try to stick a stubborn piece of hair back in place. “Who uses a hookup app for repeats? Especially if it wasn’t talked about beforehand? That’s just stalker creepy. He had a hotel, so he wasn’t from there either. And before you say he might have been there specifically for a hookup, the room was lived in. He’d been there a few days from the looks of it. He wasn’t local either. And did you forget, Knoxville? I’m not moving to Tennessee.”
“You’re no fun.”
There was a tentative knock on the door before one of the media relations staff poked his head into the small room. “Two minutes.”
I nodded. “Well, wish me luck.”
Cass gave me a sad smile. “Knock ‘em dead. Remember, you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”
Two minutes later, I was seated at the center of the press table with microphones in front of me, and I took a deep breath, then looked at the note cards Cass and I had written talking points on.
“Thank you all for coming this afternoon. First, let me start by saying the Bulldogs organization has been part of my life for so long, I barely remember a time without them. Coach Anders has been like a father to me, the players and staff—both of the team and the arena—have become extended family. Being part of this team and city have shaped me to be the person and player I am today.”
If I’d thought the conference room had gone eerily quiet when I’d started speaking, this was postapocalypse freaky. No one moved. I wasn’t sure the normally boisterous reporters were breathing, and I didn’t think I’d seen a single one of them blink since I’d started speaking. They knew what was coming before I said it, though I thought they were all waiting for a punch line. Maybe that I was announcing a contract extension.
“Because of those reasons, it is with a heavy heart I sit here today to announce my departure from the Bulldogs organization and retirement from professional hockey.”
There was almost a full second of complete silence after I stopped talking before the room exploded in noise.
Victoria’s voice rang out the loudest. She was a reporter I’d built a good rapport with and I had a great deal of respect for her. “Esme!”
“Victoria,” I said with a nod of my head.
She licked her lips, making her red lipstick shimmer in the painfully bright lighting. I’d always hated the color on her. It didn’t do anything for her. And why I was thinking about how she’d look better in pink or rose lipstick instead of the inevitable difficult questions she was about to ask me only confirmed that I’d made the right decision.
“Why the sudden change? You were drafted by the Bulldogs and have played exclusively for the team for the last fifteen seasons. There are three years left on the seven-year contract you signed. It has long been expected that you would retire then.”
I shook my head. “This was not a decision I, or the team, came to lightly. Until this summer, I had expected to play through the end of my contract, and god willing, maybe longer. The off season brought into focus aspects of my life and career I had not previously considered. After much soul-searching, discussions with my family and the Bulldogs organization, and more private contemplation, the decision was eventually reached that my time as a hockey player has come to an end.”
Cass stood in the back of the room, her eyes rolling at my canned response. I didn’t have time to focus on her any longer. There was a room full of reporters trying to get my attention. The sooner I could get this over with, the sooner I could go home and… I had no idea what I’d do from there. But I’d figure it out.
I pointed to a guy who looked like he’d fit in more at Science Olympiad than as a hockey reporter, but he’d always been kind and I actually liked him. “Evan.”
He pushed a pair of thick glasses up his nose.
“Opening day of training camp is an interesting time to announce retirement. Is there something that drove your decision to announce this today?”
Anders is a homophobic dickwad.
I pasted on a smile. “These bones and joints aren’t getting any younger. There was no reason to drag this out and take focus away from what is certain to be a fantastic season for the Bulldogs.”
Cass rolled her eyes so hard mine hurt for her, though I felt a genuine smile grow on my face.
“Luke.” I pointed to a reporter I could at least tolerate. I’d been around long enough to know I couldn’t pick my favorite reporters every time. I just tried to pick ones I could stand before one I really hated got the attention of the room and I actually had to interact with them.
“Was something found in your physical yesterday?”
I’d known this question was coming and so had Cass. We’d been stumped enough trying to come up with even a vague response that I'd called a friend who had retired early a few seasons back to ask for his opinion.
“Nothing was found. The choice to retire ultimately fell on my shoulders. I decided to go out with a little time left and maybe push off a few surgeries for a few more years.” I winked but knew it didn’t come across as playful and I hoped like hell my ill-concealed grimace didn’t make the rounds online.
I called on the next reporter. “Jess.” She was new and known for asking softball questions.
“What are your plans for retirement?”
I stared at the notes in front of me. It was a question we’d anticipated, but the response we’d come up with didn’t feel right. Instead I looked across the sea of faces in front of me and shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out together.”
Given half a chance, the reporters would have gone on for the next hour or two without asking anything new. I decided to end the press conference while I was ahead and pushed back from the table. “Thank you so much. All of you. And good luck to the Bulldogs this season. They are in great hands.”
I stood from my seat as flashes went off. Every move I made would be analyzed and I made sure to square my shoulders and stand straight, not wanting to give them anything to go on but confidence in my choice.
Inside, I was far from confident, but the rest of the world didn’t need to know that. Anders especially didn’t need to know that I felt as though I’d cut off an arm with my decision earlier in the day. No. I was going out on a high note and making sure he had to live with his decisions.
Cass had somehow beaten me to the hall and I winced when she shut the door to the media room behind us. “God, I think I sprouted new gray hairs as I was sitting up there.”
She smoothed her black hair, not that there had been a strand out of place to begin with. “You and me both.” She placed a hand on my arm. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
I still wasn’t ready to let my guard down in these hallways, in this building for that matter. “I’m going to be fine.” I squeezed her bicep as I spoke and she nodded in understanding. Over the last decade, we’d developed the silent signal to let the other know something wasn’t right. Usually we used it in contract negotiations, but sometimes we used it for other things as well.
“I’ll call you this evening. I’ve got some calls to make.”
“And I’ve got pets to cuddle.”
“You do realize you’re the only person I know who would call a hundred-pound rodent a pet.”
I waved her off. “She’s a hundred thirty now.”
“Jesus.” Cass shook her head and turned to leave the hallway, her heels clicking on the concrete floor as she walked.
“Her name’s Chloe!” I yelled after her. “Though I’m sure she’d appreciate being recognized as a messiah.”
I got a middle finger for my joke and was smiling as I turned around. At least I was smiling until I stepped into the locker room to clear my locker out.