60. CORA
CORA
I’ve never done something like this before. I don’t think my dad even knows what to do. What to say. Besides kicking Lane out for whatever's going to happen next.
I wasn’t going to show up and crash their meeting like this, but then my dad was talking about a two week suspension. Yes, I was listening through the door and no, I don't feel bad about it. Plus, my body was moving before my still-tequila-soaked brain could catch up.
And then I saw Lane. He looked tired; it made something twist in my chest. The kind of tired that isn’t just about sleep. When he walked past me, he didn’t look up. His eyes were glued to the floor as he made his escape.
“Coralee Banks. What do you think you’re doing?” my dad says, truly stunned.
“Why are you suspending Lane? He didn’t do anything.”
He stands from behind his desk. “This isn’t your business.”
“I can tell you what I did. How I screwed up. But none of that includes Lane. He was the one making sure I was safe. He only showed up to that party because I practically begged him to come.”
He runs his hands through his hair, annoyance sort of falling with his sighed breath. “I can’t look past it. The car smelled like liquor. He was driving you. The cop watched him swerve.”
It looks as bad as it could. I know that.
“Lane didn’t drink—I did. I’m the one who had a bottle of tequila in my bag. I’m the one who took my seatbelt off and was acting stupid. Lane was trying to put it back on me, that’s probably when he swerved.”
Dad stands, mouth open, hands on his hips. Not sure where to go.
“I’m the one who should be in trouble.” My voice comes out quieter this time.
“Well, I don’t have a team to suspend you from.” He shifts his weight. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you. But you and I both know this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this.”
It’s all going to come back to that night.
This isn’t my story to tell. Not my secret to expose, even if it changes Lane’s narrative.
“Dad, you have no idea what actually happened that night. No one does. If it was my thing to tell, I would. But, you know Lane. You have good men on your team. Why can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”
He walks to the front of the desk, leaning back on it and taking me in. “I am. That’s why I’m suspending him and not removing him from the team. And if Lane has something different to say about that night, he’s never shared it with me.”
“Why would he? You just showed that you expected the worst of him.” It’s more pointed than I mean.
It’s followed with heavy silence weighing the room down.
“Watch it.” He points his finger at me and his voice is low and firm. “Plus, there’s you… I’ve been very clear with my rules about you dating anyone on the team.”
Lane and me.
I glare at my father. “You’re really going to punish Lane for making sure I was safe?”
“I can’t act like this didn’t happen. Otherwise, how will he learn?”
“Right—how will he learn to make sure someone he cares about isn’t taking open drinks at a random ass party? Or doesn’t get too close to the water when she’s been drinking? Or won’t let her drive home? Consequences must be paid.” I can’t help the sarcasm mixed with anger.
My dad looks around the room, jaw flexed. “What is going on with you?”
“More than you know. I’m a walking cliché—the girl who demanded control until something she couldn’t keep her hands around throws everything off track.”
His face softens. “What things?”
This version of my dad is the one I’d hoped Lane would see. The one who listens. Who isn’t quick to judge. Who believes the best in people who have shown their true colors. Maybe I make the stakes too high or something, but that’s the part that hurts.
“Normal things that college students go through. I’ve tried to be one step ahead and it’s worked up to this point. But has it really? I’ve been anxious and stressed and chasing something that doesn’t exist.”
I know he wants me to give details. Examples. The full story. I just don’t have it in me right now.
My shoulders relax in defeat when I realize the damage has already been done.
“Last night is an example of that. You know what you’re doing with the suspension. He probably won’t be able to come back from this.”
“We don’t know that,” he says as a last-ditch effort.
My hands on the door as I end the conversation with, “Whatever you say, Dad.”
I knock on Lane’s door and it feels like I shouldn’t be here. I swear, I hear him moving around inside, but he doesn’t come to the door.
“Lane?” I hate how my voice sounds. I knock again.
The silence is heavy and the cold from the lake makes me shiver.
I’m about to turn around when the deadbolt clicks. The door opens just enough for him to stand there. When I get a glance of him, he looks awful. Dark bags sit under his eyes, his skin is pale, his eyelids heavy. His hair’s a mess, like he’s run his fingers through it after a sweaty gym session.
He doesn’t look at me, but looks down at where I stand.
“What do you want?”
“I—” My throat tightens. “Can I come in?” I try to rub the cold from my arms.
He hesitates like he might say no. For a second, I think he will. Then he steps back and gives me room to step in. I slip past him into the familiar apartment, a place that I miss.
His hockey bag lies half-open on the floor near the couch. Almost like he started packing but quit.
Lane says nothing as he sits at the bar, his laptop open on the counter. He still hasn’t looked at me.
“I came to tell you I’m sorry.” The words feel small in this room. Insignificant.
He shakes his head, scrolling on the laptop. “Yeah, me too.”
His words kind of catch me off guard. “What are you sorry for?”
Lane turns, eyes finding mine for the first time since last night. Since before the cop. “I’m sorry I put myself in this position. I fucking knew better. That night I met you at the bar, I knew it was too good to be true. Should’ve went with my gut.”
“You don’t mean that…” I cross my arms, like I’m doing my best to hold myself literally together.
He stands, hands on his hips. “I think I do. You have no idea how fucked I am. No NHL team will touch me now.”
“My dad might change his mind.” It’s a white lie I barely mean to tell.
His eyes pin me in place. “Did he tell you that?”
“No, not exactly, but—”
“Cora, you don’t get it. When I say I have nothing else? I mean it. There are no other future prospects. My best bet is that I can get on a roster in Europe. Live over there.”
Europe. A league across the globe.
“You can’t go to Europe.” I say it mostly to myself, but obviously Lane hears me.
He takes a step forward, closing the space between us. “I obviously can’t stay here. I don’t have parents that will take me in.”
“We will figure it out, but—”
“No. We won’t.”
The words hang heavy between us and it’s like all the air has left my body.
“I trusted you. I told you something that no one knows and you put me in a situation just like that last night.”
“I wasn’t thinking—”
“Clearly. I know that. But the way I was so wrapped up in you, it made me stop thinking, too. Yes, this is your fault, but I’m to blame for my own downfall. For the second time, so…”
Was. Was so wrapped up in you. The past tense makes my knees wobble. This isn’t how this is supposed to happen.
I grasp at the last of my straws. “Why don’t you tell my dad the truth about the night in Ohio?”
He scrunches his face in confusion. “You think he’d even believe me? I don’t. There’s no one to confirm it and I don’t think it matters. He thinks I put you in danger, after he explicitly told me you were off limits.”
My arms ache and I realize I’m squeezing my hands at my sides, like I’m holding onto the last pieces of us. I don’t know where to go. What to say. It’s like I’m drowning.
“I should’ve known better.” Lane’s voice climbs like he’s understanding a revelation. “The coach’s daughter? Pretty high on the ‘do not do’ list. I don’t know how I thought I could have both of these things… you and hockey.”
His eyes move away from me, as if looking at me is painful. A breath leaves him that almost sounds like a laugh. “I’ve never been that lucky.”
“It’s not about luck. Come on,” I plead. “You can still have me.”
“You think your dad is going to let me stay on the roster if I keep seeing you?” His eyes are wide as his brows press into his forehead. “Cora, I know you’re smarter than that.”
I don’t know if he’s right. My dad and I didn’t even get to that point.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m tapping out.” Lane taps his hand on the counter like a fighter who's pinned in a ring.
I can’t stand it. So I step into him, putting my hands on his chest. “I love you. We can’t just… you can’t tap out.”
His hands grab mine and he squeezes them before pushing them off his shirt.
“Maybe you think you love me. But if you did, do you really think we’d be in this situation?
” His words are soft and painful. “I don’t have a choice, Cora.
Now, if you don’t mind, can I try to salvage the leftover pieces or is there something else we should cover? ”
He’s nonchalant and it makes me want to scream. Because he’s right. I wasn’t even thinking about the bottle in my bag. What that meant. I thought I could fix it but this morning is proving me wrong.
“Lane. Please—”
“Lock the door on your way out.” He’s already focusing back on the computer. Acting like I’m already gone.
I think that’s the moment I realize this isn’t something I can fix. No matter what you prepare or what you think of as a next step or option.
Some things you just break.