35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Whoowee, is it hot in here? You catch that presser after last night’s game?
After Landon played to a sold-out arena, he faced a full-house in the press room where he dodged questions faster than Arlo Beck’s best time out on the Three Corners Drag Strip.
Seems like the rumors about Landon’s love life have gone public—has anyone NOT seen the video at this point?
Are you living under a rock?— and fans are going wild.
And the reporters, wilder. Even stuffy ol’ Rinkside stuck his nose in our boy’s business.
Looks like this one’s gonna get messy. But hey, what’s a hockey game without a scuffle or twelve? ~Penni’s Puckleberry Tea
Shep
Shy offered to keep Hannah overnight and if I could have hugged them through the phone, I would have.
“You sure you don’t mind?” I asked my daughter in our pre-game call. Last thing I needed was to screw things up with her.
“Nah. Karo’s dad is picking me up for derby practice in the morning and he said he doesn’t care whether it’s from Aunt Shy’s place or ours.”
Ours. The word punched through the tension threatening to crush my ribcage since I’d awakened to find my relationship with Merri the talk of Richland.
Hannah’s words lit a warm glow in the region of my heart.
Ours. My kid, claiming my space as her own.
A small thing, but damn, it felt good. I owed Marek and his daughter a Sugar Squared run.
“Cool, then. See you tomorrow, Hannah-bean.”
We hung up and I pocketed the phone, the disconnect unleashing a wave of apprehension.
Grainy security cam footage flashed in my mind’s eye.
I’d been dodging angry looks from my teammates since morning skate.
Worse, I’d dodged Merri, too. I didn’t have a solution for her yet, but I was working on one.
She wouldn’t like it. In fact, I expected her to throw a huge fit, but I wasn’t going to let my actions take her down.
If sacrifices had to be made, I’d be the one making them.
“Landon!” JT Pendleton, his voice sharp as shattered ice, cut through the pre-game racket in the locker room. He loomed in the doorway, his pewter suit hanging off his thin shoulders, his slicked-back graying brown hair framing a face carved into disapproving lines. “A word.”
My pulse stuttered. Nothing good ever came from “a word” with JT Pendleton. Coach Trasier usually played interference, blocking the old man’s entrance into the locker room, but this evening, Coach was MIA.
I dropped the skate I’d been about to put on and strode toward the older man, because when the owner of the team demanded your presence, you gave it to him.
Pendleton turned back into the hall and I followed.
Holmes, our general manager, stood with him.
Denmark hustled past, clutching a stack of towels, his gaze fixed on the floor.
Even Melani, usually fearless even with upper management, avoided eye contact as she hurried by, her phone glued to her ear.
“You’ve stepped over the line,” Holmes said, his voice grim. “Put us in an untenable position.”
“I’m aware of the chatter about the escape room, but—”
JT’s lips flattened into an angry line. “Don’t play dumb, son. Flouting authority, making a mockery of the team. Of me!” He slammed his palm against an equipment case shoved up against the wall, the sharp thwack reverberating through the busy hallway. “You’ve embarrassed the organization.”
I tipped my chin, giving the old man only the slightest acknowledgement.
It’d been a while since I’d been on Old Man Pendleton’s radar.
Probably not since the golf tournament last off-season.
His favorite grandson and namesake, Jasper, handled most team business these days.
“Sir,” I said, wrapping my words in as much patience as I could muster, “I mean no disrespect, but my private life is not team business.”
JT’s eyes widened, giving his face the look of a puffer fish.
“You’re a professional athlete. You have responsibilities.
Don’t trot out some juvenile excuse for dicking around with a female employee.
Is she even the first? Are we going to have a dozen women stepping forward with allegations of misconduct?
How dare you, Landon? How fucking dare you after all I’ve done for your career? ”
Fire erupted in my bloodstream, burning a warpath straight to my mouth. “Misconduct? Is that your way of saying harassment? There is no fucking harassment between me and Merri, much less anyone else in this organization. My relationship with Merri Wylie is my own damn business—”
“And it’s going to cost you,” Holmes interrupted. “Ms. Wylie is obviously a distraction. A liability. She needs to go—”
I narrowed my eyes on the GM. “Coach Wylie,” I corrected, my voice low and dangerous. “And don’t you dare minimize her work in the organization. She doesn’t deserve your disrespect. She’s brilliant. Dedicated. She’s worth ten of any other—”
“Watch it, Landon,” JT roared, his face mottled purple and red.
I locked my jaw, biting back the words that would only turn this into an all-out war. One wrong move, and there’d be no coming back from it.
“Be in my office tomorrow morning. We’ll resolve this once and for all.”
The two of them wheeled around, their dismissal yet another slap in the face, leaving me with a knot of dread wrecking my gut.
I glared after him. Was this how Merri felt?
Helpless, powerless? They wanted to make Merri the scapegoat.
To toss her aside as if all her work, her dedication and ability, meant nothing. Less than nothing.
Fuck that.
Fournier laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Talk to Chandler. Get your ducks in a row. And listen.” He tipped his chin toward the seats, the vast Renegades arena stretching above us. “You aren’t alone. Remember that.”
I let out a slow breath, but the fire inside me burned hotter.
“‘Distraction,’ they called her. Like I’m not playing the best damn hockey of my career.
My stats are fuckin’ golden, my game’s locked in.
” My spine straightened, resolve locking into place.
“They want to see a distraction? Fine. I’ll give them one.
They’ll be too damn busy celebrating to come for Merri. ”
Fournier grinned as I shoved past him, heading straight for the locker room.
Tonight, I wasn’t just playing for the win.
I was playing for her.
I yanked on a dark Renegades tee, my damp hair still dripping down my back.
“Hell of a game, Landon.” Fournier pulled me aside before I could escape into the hall and track down Merri. “Four goals, three assists? That’s gotta be a personal record, yeah?”
I nodded as I shoved my feet into a pair of Converse.
“I spoke with the player rep already. He’s ready to be there with you tomorrow. You have Chandler lined up?”
I nodded again. My agent had called that morning, one of the billion messages blowing up my phone since our story exploded. “He knew they’d be setting something up. He’s ready.”
“It’ll be you, Holmes and either JT or Jasper. They’ll probably bring in player counsel or one of the lawyers for the team, too. You’ll need the player rep and Chandler to have your back.”
I nodded even as my head spun. I’d lived a charmed life, skated around conflict, safely in their good graces. Now I was the main event, the center of a shit storm.
My captain pulled me further from the doorway and spoke low.
“Listen, Landon. The fans are with you and that’s going to play in your favor.
The organization wants the seats sold. Lean into that.
” He tipped his chin toward the press room down the hall.
“Coach is in there right now. You know what questions he’s dodging?
Anything about you and Wylie. He’s leaving them hungry. ”
I gritted my teeth. I’d always played nice with the press. This felt different. This felt like walking into a minefield.
“You and Wylie serious?”
“What?”
“If she’s your girl, go in there and fight for her.
Before the team makes a decision. Be their ‘golden boy’.
The organization is looking to put someone on the chopping block.
Remind them of what you bring to the ice.
Winning teams fill seats. Make them see she’s part of the winning equation.
” He tightened his grip on my shoulder. “If the organization decides someone has to go, she’ll be out.
Gone. Poof. Don’t say anything stupid. Give them a good Shep Landon Golden Boy presser. ”
Right. Easy. No problem.
“Thanks, Cap.” I rolled my shoulders, popping my neck and cracking the tension that had me strung tighter than a clothesline in a hurricane, before charging into the press room.
Coach’s eyes widened momentarily before he wrapped up. “I’ll pass you guys over to Landon now. Let him tell you about his game tonight.”
I shook my coach’s hand as he stepped away from the podium, squeezing a little tighter than usual. When I turned to face the room, I’d plastered on a big, Aw Shucks smile and nodded at the familiar faces.
“Full house tonight, eh, guys?” I spoke lightly, as if I didn’t have a care in the world.
As if the woman I adored wasn’t being shredded right before my eyes.
“All the usual suspects; a few new faces.” I tapped the big mic, took in the row of phones lined up to record along the top of the podium. “Fun game tonight, yeah?”
One of the veteran reporters, a guy who’d been covering the Renegades since I was a rookie, jumped right in. “Confirm or deny: Are you in a relationship with the team’s video coach? The video circulating online seems pretty conclusive.”
“Alrighty, then. That’s what you wanna talk about? Not my hat trick? Tough crowd.” I tossed out another smile and leaned my forearms atop the podium. “I understand there’s been a lot of talk. But I prefer to keep my personal life private and not get into any kind of speculation. You get it, right?”
“Given the public interest and the impact it may have on the team—hell, there were as many signs in the stands tonight for Merri as there were for players—can you at least confirm whether or not you have a personal relationship with the team’s video coach?”
“Here’s what I’ll say: Merri Wylie is damn good at her job. She’s saved goals, sharpened our focus, and improved our play. Beyond that, she kicks my ass in Ping-Pong.”
Another reporter, phone extended to record my answer, threw out the next question. “What is your response to the allegations that this relationship has been ongoing for several weeks, in violation of Renegades organization policy?”
I smiled. “I’m aware of the allegations, but I’m going to stick to what I’m good at, you know? I’ll score the goals. I’ll let the team handle internal investigations.”
A woman in the back of the room called out. “So the team is investigating?”
“I’m here to win games. That’s my job.”
“How does Merri feel about your casual dismissal of a topic that could mean the end of her career?”
I straightened up, my hands gripping the edge of the podium until my nails dug into the wood.
“Merri’s a professional. If she were the one standing here instead of me right now, she’d tell you the same damn thing.
We’re professionals on a hockey team. We’re here to win games.
Nothing we’ve done takes away from the team. Period.”
“Can you shed any light on the circumstances surrounding the exposure of your relationship?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I can tell you the entire team took part in a local event for first responders. It took place at the escape room.”
“Do you and Coach Wylie frequently indulge in intimate relations during team events?”
“Fans are dying to know—did your relationship with the video coach impact your performance on the ice?”
“What’s your take on the backlash against Meredith Wylie as one of the few female coaches in the league?”
Melani Trembley stormed into the room then, charging to the front before I could form answers to the barrage of questions.
“How about we talk about tonight’s game?
We’re top of the conference and played to a full house of supportive fans.
Let’s talk about that, shall we, friends?
Did you see that the Renegades are trending ahead of even Taylor Swift tonight? ”
The reporters weren’t deterred. “Will Wylie be fired?” one shouted. “With the trade deadline next week, is management considering a deal for Landon?” another yelled.
My stomach twisted, a bellow filling my lungs. I wanted to defend Merri, tell the scavengers all to go to hell. But Fournier’s wise guidance echoed in my head. Don’t screw up, don’t say anything stupid.
“The organization will handle internal matters.” Melani’s voice sliced through the noise, sharp and authoritative. “But while you guys are conjuring up your next clickbait headline, check your socials. Renegades fans are finding a whole lot more to talk about.”