Chapter Twenty-Six
Cooper
The team pulls out just after sunrise.
Rixton still looks half asleep as we roll through town. The streetlights are on, and only a few people are on the road. I watch the rest of the city slide by through the window, trying to think about how different the past few days have felt.
Like something in my life has been missing. And it’s left a huge hole in its place.
The guys are louder than usual, considering how early it is.
Music plays from someone’s speaker in the back. Owen is arguing with them to turn it down. Talon and Kade are laughing, giving him a hard time about being an old man.
It’s the same routine for every road game.
Shifting to lean against the window, I stretch my legs across the seat next to me. My shoulder is still tight but manageable. It feels worse after practice or a game, but then it eases as I start to slowly get moving again.
Talon drops down in the seat across from me. Kade follows a minute later, leaning into the aisle between us.
“You good?” Talon asks.
“Hangin’ in there. You talk to Reed at all?” I ask so low that no one can hear it over the music.
He knows I’ve been anxious for an update. Hoping he’s able to find something I can use to turn the tables as leverage against Coach Dawson.
Talon nods. “Yeah. He sent me an update last night. He’s still digging.”
“Find anything?”
“Not yet,” Kade chimes in. “Nothing concrete. Mostly stuff we already knew or things that didn’t look right but we haven’t quite made sense of.”
“That’s helpful,” I mutter, leaning my head against the cool window.
Kade claps me on my shin. “We’re gonna figure this out, man. He’s been juggling games and practice, and we’ve had a full schedule too.”
I shift in my seat. “It’s fine. I understand he’s doing what he can.”
Neither of them looks convinced, but they let it go.
The bus hits a pothole, and the whole row jolts. Someone swears in the back. One of the coaches yells something about holding onto your drinks.
Talon leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Reed said if there’s something, it’s gonna be buried. He still thinks he’s mixed up with betting and just needs to connect the dots somehow.”
I nod because that’s what I’ve been thinking as well.
After I logged off Dead Zone last night, I started jotting down more notes on different things that have stood out to me throughout the season. Even things I thought were off from last year.
He has the means to cover up whatever he’s doing, and he’s proven he’ll let other people take the fall for him if it means keeping the heat off his back.
“Right now, it’s just a bunch of stuff that doesn’t add up,” Kade says.
“And that’s how it starts,” Talon adds. “Those little things start to add up. He’ll mess up eventually, and we’ll catch him. Or if we have to, we’ll just trick him at his own game.”
I glance toward the front of the bus where Coach Dawson sits. We’ve avoided each other since our conversation in his office. He hasn’t glanced back here once this morning.
“He knows we’re on the road,” Kade says, talking about Reed still. “He’ll be trying to get more done this week before the Bulldogs hit the road themselves. But he doesn’t want to rush it and miss something.”
“I get it, but every minute that passes is one more I’m spending away from Brinley. How am I supposed to travel to games and focus with the playoffs ahead of us if I’m constantly worried about her and her safety?”
“You talked to Dave, though, right?” Talon asks.
I nod. “Yeah, but what good is that gonna do to keep her safe?”
“Well, you wouldn’t be able to do anything from here anyway. I’ll bring it up to Reed, though. Maybe he can tap into the cameras and try to pick up on the feed. He might know of a way we can use it as a second set of eyes.”
I don’t love the idea of watching her without her knowing, but I’m also not going to risk her safety either.
Kade straightens, stretching his shoulders. “You know we’ve got your back. Don’t forget it.”
I nod once. “I know.”
They sit there for a few minutes, debating whether they want to say more, but I’m sure they can pick up on my mood. I’m not really feeling chatty today.
Owen shouts something from behind us about snacks, and Kade pushes off the seat.
“Don’t think too much before the game,” Talon says quietly before he stands. “We need your head clear.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t quite believe it, then makes his way down the aisle.
I close my eyes and tilt my head against the window again. I manage to drift off to sleep, which makes the three-hour bus ride north go by faster.
When we check into the hotel, I’m paired up with Owen. I don’t mind it. He’s quiet, keeps to himself, and I don’t have to worry about him leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor like some of the other guys I’ve been stuck with.
The second the door shuts behind us, I drop my bag by the desk and pull out my notebook.
Owen notices, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s seen it enough times now.
It’s the same black spiral I use for game notes—shot tendencies, breakaway habits, and power play setups. At some point, the notes stopped being about game notes and became about him. That started after my talk with Coach Dawson.
I know the guys want me to be patient while Reed looks into things. I need to give it time and let him handle this. Stay out of it, focus on hockey, and do not draw any unnecessary attention to myself.
I’ve tried, though. And sitting around waiting hasn’t helped keep my focus on the game.
I flip through the pages, scanning what I’ve written, hoping maybe I’ll suddenly see something I missed before. So far, it’s just dates, games, and decisions that still don’t sit right.
I turn another page.
Same ref crew as last time.
Third period line change didn’t match practice.
Why shorten rotation when we were up?
It’s not exactly evidence. Nothing points to any sort of wrongdoing. Just enough to make me feel like I’m going crazy.
Owen pulls me out of it when he drops onto the edge of his bed and starts tying his shoes. The TV is on mute. It’s some NHL pregame show running highlights from last week.
He stands, stretches, then looks over at me. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
He lowers his hands. “I mean it.”
“I know.” I slide the notebook back into my bag. I drag my hand over my face, finally turning away from the window. “I said I’m fine. I’m just getting anxious about all the waiting.”
“You talking about Reed?” he asks.
“I’m referring to everything.”
He steps forward and catches himself before he claps me on the back. “You talk to Brinley at all?”
Owen turns to grab his hoodie off the chair.
I avoid his gaze, pretending to pick at a loose thread on my sleeve. “No.”
“You haven’t even snuck over?”
A small breath leaves me before I can stop it. “No. Not since I saw her stranded because her car broke down.”
He leans back against the dresser. “Why?”
“Because I told you what Coach said. And because every time I see her, it makes leaving that much harder.”
“For who?”
I don’t answer that, and he doesn’t push. That’s one thing about Owen. He’ll check in, but he won’t dig if you’re not ready.
“You need your head on straight before the game against Kolmont,” he says after a second. “Maybe just give her a call. Talk to her. Keep it short and sweet, but enough to let her know you’re not going anywhere.”
He studies me like he’s waiting for me to respond. I give him a nod.
“I’m gonna head out to grab something to eat. You’ll have the place to yourself. You know, if you wanna do a video call. Maybe it’ll cheer you up a little.”
He flashes me a wink, his mouth curving into a smirk, and that gets me.
“Fuck you.” I chuckle.
“Not me. Her.”
Owen throws a hand over his shoulder as he heads out, the hotel door shutting behind him with a soft click.
I sit there for a second, staring at my phone.
He’s not wrong. I don’t need to fix everything right now. I don’t need some perfect explanation. I just need her to know I’m still here.
Before I can talk myself out of it again, I hit Call.
It rings longer than I expect. Long enough that I start thinking she’s going to let it go to voicemail.
Then she answers.
No hello. No pause.
“Cooper, is everything okay?”
I let out a breath before I can stop myself. The line goes quiet on her end, like she’s listening for something in that exhale.
“I’m sorry,” I say, keeping my voice low.
There’s a beat of silence.
“I know,” she murmurs.
It shouldn’t hit the way it does, but it does.
“There’s stuff going on,” I tell her. I run a hand through my hair, staring at the carpet. “I don’t even know where to start. I just… I need you to know I’m not ignoring you. I’m trying to handle it.”
Another quiet second.
“I understand,” she says.
The words I want to say sit heavy in my chest. They’re right there. I could say them now. It would be easy, in a way. No eye contact. No chance to see what it does to her face.
But I don’t want it to be like that.
I want to see her when I tell her how I feel.
“It’s okay,” she says again, softer this time.
“Just okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. We’re good. We’re okay.”
I swallow.
“Can you do something for me?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t leave.” I keep my tone even, like I’m not asking for something bigger than it sounds. “Promise me you won’t leave Rixton. I need you to know I’m not going anywhere, and I just… I need to know you won’t pack up and disappear either.”
She doesn’t answer right away.
I can picture her thinking about it. She’d have every reason to go. Every reason to decide this isn’t the place for her.
“I won’t leave,” she says finally.
I close my eyes for a second.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I’ll explain everything. When I can. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“I have to get going. We’ve got a game this afternoon.”
“All right,” she says. “I’ll be watching. Cheering you on from Broken Saddle.”
A small smile pulls at my mouth.
“I’ll block every shot for you.”
She laughs softly at that, and it settles something in me.