Chapter 47
TRISTAN
Morning practice was hell. The team was still reeling from the losses to the Hawks, and then Eva’s accident, and then Alek’s resignation, and now, Cole had quit too.
Coach Caruso skated over to me when I fumbled the puck, the silence from the team telling me I’d fucked up. Again. “You okay?”
I laughed quietly, bitterly. “Does it matter?”
“Do you still want to go to the championship this year?” he asked me, skating beside me as I lined up a row of pucks to keep practicing.
I stopped and pulled out my mouthguard. “Yes, of course I fucking do. Don’t we all?”
“And do you think we’re so weak a team that we can’t do it without Mr. Carter?”
I took a deep breath and exhaled, puffing my cheeks out as I watched the rest of the team practice.
“Coach Novikov tells me that out of every player on this team, you’ve got the most potential. Dr. Parker tells me you’re the heart of the team. The other players are flashier, but you show up every day and put in work.”
My eyes flicked to his. She’d said that? Fuck.
“Give her a call,” he murmured, “and get your head screwed on straight.”
The rest of practice was better—not great, but better. We were a mess, but Coach Caruso took the time to speak with each of us, firmly and kindly. His style was nothing like Alek’s, but maybe that was what we needed right now.
As I skated off the ice, he shouted out to me, “I’ll check to make sure you made that call at tomorrow’s workouts.” Where I would see Dr. Parker anyway.
He was right, though.
Me
Dr. Parker? You have time for dinner this week?
Dr. Parker
Are you free tonight?
That evening, I pulled in front of her apartment building and paid for parking. The receptionist smiled and waved. “It’s been a while.”
Too long. I’d let my obsession—my obsessions—this semester get in the way of a relationship that meant the world to me.
I took the elevator up to Dr. Parker’s apartment, fidgeting nervously, embarrassed I’d ignored my mentor, a woman who’d practically adopted me my freshman year, when I was the only Black player on the team.
She answered only a moment after I knocked, and her warm smile made me feel even worse. “Come in, come in,” she said.
Dr. Parker pulled me in for a hug then drew back, her arms on my biceps, and searched my face.
“Tristan, how are you?”
Instead of answering, I kicked my shoes off out of habit then followed her into the warm interior of the apartment. She’d filled it with art and soft fabrics, a dramatic contrast to her brisk, businesslike attitude when she was working.
“Tristan,” Dr. Parker said, her voice turning more firm, “how are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” I said with a bright smile.
“Come help me make a salad,” she said, handing me a cucumber and a knife. “I’ve got a lasagna in the oven.”
My eyebrows went up. “Fancy.”
Dr. Parker just laughed. “Haven’t had you over since the first week of school.”
The cucumber suddenly required all my attention.
“Mm-hmm.” She set tomatoes beside me with gentle care. “That’s what I thought.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Oh?”
I knew that oh was an invitation to pour my heart out, but instead, I busied myself with the vegetables, piling them into a wooden bowl she handed me.
Thankfully, she dropped the subject, but I knew she wouldn’t let it go.
I set the table while she pulled out the lasagna and tossed the salad with lemon and olive oil. It was so normal, so safe.
My throat tightened.
I wanted to tell her everything.
But I couldn’t.
“Bon appetit,” she said once we’d served ourselves. “Thank you for keeping me company tonight.”
I gave her a well-deserved side-eye, and she laughed. “I’ve missed you, Tristan.”
“I miss you too,” I admitted. Being a Black man in hockey was a balancing act, and as much I loved Cole, it was still a fucking relief to talk to someone who got it.
Dr. Parker was one of the only Black professionals associated with the hockey program.
I owed her better than to drop out of her life the moment my own got hard. “I’m sorry.”
She reached over to squeeze my hand. “Eat,” she said, waving her fork at my plate. “And tell me what’s going on with my favorite player so I don’t have to call Cedric and drag it out of him.”
I’d forgotten they got along so well. “Classes are good,” I said quietly. “Cedric’s good too.”
“How’s Cole doing?”
Heartbroken. Fierce. Protective. Possessive. Determined. I opened my mouth and closed it a few times before I settled on, “Fine.”
Dr. Parker set her silverware down and looked me straight in the eye. “He didn’t quit the team for his health, Tris. Neither did Coach Novikov.”
When I didn’t answer, Dr. Parker sighed deeply.
“Jed Carter called me last night.”
My eyes flew to hers.
“He wanted to know what I knew about his son and rehab.”
“Fuck,” I breathed, my heart stopping.
“It’s not the first time Carter’s called me about a player’s health, nor is it the first time I’ve told him to go pound sand. Not only is it illegal for me to share their medical information, he’s a scumbag.”
“He is,” I agreed, exhaling a stressed-out whoosh.
“It’d be a shame if someone managed to prove he’s manipulating the sports program at Yorkfield University to increase his betting profits, wouldn’t it?”
“You mean it’d be an absolute fucking miracle,” I muttered.
“Is that why Alek resigned?”
I twisted my lips, not wanting to spill secrets that weren’t mine.
“Is it Eva?”
I swallowed.
“I’d like to think he’s the kind of man who’d resign so he can pursue the woman he loves without the power imbalance that comes from employing her,” she continued.
“Me too,” I replied quietly.
“Cole always seemed to be the type of man who’d fight his father to his very last breath,” she continued.
“He is.”
“And yet—”
I decided to trust her. We needed allies. “How better to take down his father than from the inside?”
Dr. Parker’s eyes widened behind her wire-rimmed glasses, and she leaned back in her chair. “That’s quite a sacrifice, given that he could simply graduate and play in the NHL, live his life in peace.”
I scoffed. As if anyone could escape Jed Carter if Jed Carter didn’t want them to. “It’s not just his future on the line,” I admitted.
“Eva’s,” she breathed. “Jed Carter threatened Eva. That’s what all of this is about. That stupid, stupid man, thinking fear would beat out love.”
I swallowed, that final word lodging in my chest. Was that what this was?
Of course it was.
Of course that’s what we were fighting for.
Eva. Alek. Cole. Myself.
Love.
Dr. Parker settled her hand on top of mine. “Is Coach Novikov involved?”
I nodded, and she laughed softly. “Good. And his cousin in the bratva?”
My eyes widened.
“What, you think I don’t know who I’ve been working with for the last six years?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered shakily. “He is.”
Dr. Parker stood. “Stay here.” A moment later, she returned with a thumb drive. “Don’t burn me with this. He’s putting more pressure on athletic staff lately and isn’t bothering to hide his tracks.”
“Thank you,” I said, my eyes burning. Dust—she had to have dust in her apartment, no matter how immaculate it might have seemed.
“Tell Alek to stop being a martyr. It doesn’t suit him.”
I laughed softly.
“And tell Eva—” Her voice gentled. “You tell her she has more people in her corner than she realizes.”
Love. She had love in her corner. Why had it taken me so fucking long to realize it?