Chapter 47
~Deacon~
As the hot water pounds against my shoulders, washing away sweat and dried blood, Daley’s words loop through my mind. The anger that burned through me when I left the ice, the fury that drove my fist into Brady’s jaw, has been extinguished.
She turned the temperature down in a way no one ever has before just by being there, listening and talking me through it. Handling everything with her calm, mature poise.
In the few short months I’ve known her, she’s come to mean more to me than I thought anyone would, especially not this soon, not after the wreckage my personal life became at the start of this year.
And if Megan or Brady, or anyone else for that matter, thinks they have any influence over how I feel about her or where our relationship is going?
They’re flat-out wrong.
Maybe it’s time I make that clear.
The final buzzer blares through the arena as I towel off, the walls practically vibrating from the crowd’s roar above me.
Judging by the volume, we held onto the lead and relief settles in my chest. It wasn’t the way I wanted the first game to go, but a win is a win.
At least I don’t have to feel guilty about getting tossed.
Not that I feel all that guilty about why I got kicked out.
Brady deserved that punch. I’d do it again.
By the time I step back into the locker room, the guys are already filing in, jerseys damp with sweat, faces still flushed from the game’s intensity. A few players let out whistles when they see me, clapping me on the back.
“Hell of a hit,” Erik says, grinning as he ruffles his sweat-soaked hair with a towel.
“What’d he say to you?” another guy asks.
“How’s the nose?”
I take the questions in stride, brushing off the concern about my face.
It’s not my first broken nose, and it won’t be my last. More importantly, I check in with River, making sure he’s okay after that fight.
He nods, still riding the adrenaline high, but there’s an edge in his eyes that tells me Brady’s words stuck with him.
I get it. They stuck with me too.
That only solidifies my decision.
After a few minutes, I step away, heading toward the media room. Usually, I go last, letting my teammates take the spotlight, but tonight, I have something to say.
A buzz ripples through the room when I walk in, cameras shifting, reporters scrambling for their notepads. Questions fly at me the second I step inside.
“Deke, can you comment on…”
“What happened with Brady?”
“Is the injury…”
“Is it true you’re dating…”
I ignore them all, striding to the front table where a half-dozen microphones are lined up. The second I sit, I raise a hand. “I’d like to make a statement first. Hold your questions and let’s see if I can answer a few before you have to ask.”
The door at the back of the room swings open, and I spot Matt, our PR director, slipping inside. His expression is tight, letting me know he hadn’t expected me to be here this soon. I shoot him a quick nod to say: I got this. Trust me.
The room quiets, anticipation thick in the air, and I exhale once before beginning.
“First off, I want to apologize to the fans and my teammates for losing my temper. I lost sight of the game, and that’s on me.
One hundred percent.” I tap the bandage on my nose.
“Second, this is going to be sticking around for a few weeks since my nose is broken. Won’t stop me from playing, though, so you’re all going to have to get used to it. ”
There’s a ripple of chuckles, but I don’t let the mood lighten too much.
“Now, I understand from Brice that the tapes didn’t show an intentional high stick on the hit that broke my nose.
But based on my interactions with Brady Miller tonight?
” I let a slow breath out through my nose, as much as I can.
“I believe he did it on purpose. It wasn’t the only time his stick just happened to get away from him tonight.
He’ll tell you otherwise, but that’s my take. ”
A murmur spreads through the room and a few hands shoot up, but I hold up my own.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumours that Brady got traded because of me.
” I let the words settle, my heart pounding a little harder despite myself.
This is the first time I’m addressing any of this, and opening up has never come naturally.
“Looks like he heard them too. I can confirm those rumours are true.”
The reaction is immediate with reporters scribbling and camera lenses shifting to capture every flicker of my expression. I push forward before anyone can interrupt.
“A player needs to be able to trust his teammates, and I don’t trust Brady Miller.
I asked team management to trade me or trade him.
If he wants to blame me for that, I’ll take the blame, but I wouldn’t have felt that way if it weren’t for his own actions.
Same way his actions tonight got him punched in the face. ”
A few reporters smirk at that while others lean in, eyes gleaming. They know this is the headline.
But I’m not done yet.
“You might have also heard this week that I’m seeing someone.
” I let the words settle before continuing.
“Why anybody cares who I’m dating is beyond me, but since people do, I’ll tell you.
Her name is Daley Adams. She’s a brilliant scientist and science tutor.
Her son, River Adams, is our new defenceman, the Wolves’ top draft pick this year.
She’s a private person and so am I. That’s why we didn’t make a fuss about it, but it’s not a secret or something I feel the need to hide.
She’s an incredible woman, and I’m enjoying getting to know her.
That’s all there is to it. Any questions? ”
Every hand in the room flies up.
I point to the reporter from the local paper first.
“What did Brady Miller say to you before you punched him?”
I grimace. “Nothing I’d repeat in polite conversation. Next?”
A younger guy from a popular hockey site speaks up. “Do you think Oregon made a mistake picking up Miller?”
“That’s for their management to decide, but if we brought in a guy with that reputation? Team morale would take a hit. I imagine it’s the same for them.”
The questions keep coming, about the game, my injury, our upcoming schedule. Just when I think we might actually move on, Anthea, the reporter who’s been digging into my personal life all week, leans forward.
“How do your ex-wife and your new girlfriend know each other?”
My jaw tightens. “They don’t. They never met before tonight.”
“Really? Because Megan said—”
“Megan has her own version of a lot of events,” I cut in. “Doesn’t necessarily make them true.”
Anthea grins, thrilled by the response. “So, the suggestion that you’re dating Ms Adams to make Megan jealous is incorrect?”
What the actual fuck?
“That's complete nonsense.” My voice is flat and unyielding. “I’m dating Ms Adams because I like her. It’s really that simple.”
“She must be quite a bit older than you,” another reporter jumps in. “How old is she?”
I exhale sharply, forcing a light chuckle. “Pretty sure you don’t ask a woman her age or her dress size, but you can all do the math.”
Laughter ripples through the room, and I take that as my cue to leave.
“Thanks for your time, everyone. See you at the next one.”
As soon as I step into the hall, Matt walks out behind me and claps a hand on my shoulder. “You handled that well.”
I let out a breath. “Any chance they’ll leave River alone?”
Matt sighs. “Not likely. But I’ll prep him before he goes in.”
I nod. “Appreciate it.”
Now that the adrenaline is fading, my limbs feel heavier and my nose throbs, but the night doesn’t feel like a loss.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I have anything to hide.