Chapter 14 - Hunter
Hunter
I swiped my phone one last time, fingers hovering over my mom’s number before finally putting it down with a frustrated snap.
“No,” her voice had been flat, like she’d been expecting me to ask and had already decided. “We’re not coming. Don’t make this about us. You know how it is.”
I stared at the ceiling above my bed for a long while, letting the disappointment sink in. That old familiar twist in my gut. The one I thought I’d broken free of years ago.
I sat up with a start and pulled on my sweats. It was a stupid idea to begin with. I knew better, but I let Holly and her stupid ideals get in my head. I knew better. My family was never interested in me or my hockey, and that wasn’t going to change.
I grabbed my gear bag and left for practice, determined to sweat it out and have it over with.
“Hunter, come on!” Theo barked from the blue line. “You’re acting like the puck owes you money.”
I let out a short, irritated laugh, but it sounded hollow even to me. “Yeah, thanks for the pep talk, Quebec.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he shot back. “You’re on the verge of embarrassing yourself out there.”
Grayson skated up, stick low. “Dude, what’s wrong with you today?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, adjusting my helmet. The words tasted like lies, but I didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want to deal with pity, with questions I didn’t have the patience or answers for.
“Nothing?” Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Because missing five shots in a row isn’t nothing. You’re off. Big time. And it’s not just me noticing.”
I ground my teeth. “I don’t care what anyone notices. I just need a minute, and then I’ll be fine.”
“You better be,” he said, backing up slowly. “Because you’ll care about Coach chewing you out after practice if you don’t pick it up.”
I pushed it out of my head and lined up for another drill. The puck hit my stick, then my knee, then bounced away in an arc that seemed to take forever. Perfect. Just what I needed.
Coach’s whistle pierced the air. “Callahan! Stop pantomiming hockey and actually play!”
“Yes, Coach,” I yelled back, but the irritation in my voice probably registered louder than my words.
“Seriously, man,” Theo muttered as we reset for another drill, “what the hell is going on with you today?”
“Just leave me alone, okay? Focus on your shit, and I’ll focus on mine.”
We went on like that for a few more minutes, Coach calling out drills and me fumbling my way through them all. Eventually, it was Mason’s turn to come skating over to me. But I wasn’t interested in him. I wasn’t interested in Theo’s digs or Grayson’s advice either.
So, when I dragged myself off the ice after practice, there was only one place I wanted to be.
The hallway leading to her office smelled like sweat and bleach. Echoes of laughter and clattering skates followed me as I walked, but for once I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything.
I replayed the conversation with my mom in my head.
The disappointment, the coldness, the casual dismissal of the years I’d worked to make something of myself.
I couldn’t change her mind, not today, not ever probably.
I didn’t see what help Holly would be, because it wasn’t like she could change any of it.
But even so, I already started feeling better when I lifted my hand to knock on her door.
Three seconds passed and when I got no answer, I opened it and poked my head in. Empty.
“That’s weird.”
She was usually watching me like a hawk, or in here typing furiously away at her next grand scheme. Since I didn’t see her at practice, I figured this would be the place.
Unless.
I broke into a jog toward Bob’s office, my helmet slipping in my hand.
“Hunter!” a voice called, and I flinched. It was Mason, strolling out of the locker room, sneakers squeaking. “You ditching us again?”
“I’ll catch you guys later. Gotta do something first,” I called over my shoulder.
His laughter echoed down the hall. “Uh-huh. She won’t even let you change after practice? Riding you hard these days, I see.”
“He likes it,” Tucker chimed in.
I didn’t slow down. Because their ragging didn’t affect me anymore. And also, so what if I did like it? So far this season, Holly was the only one who didn’t falter when it came to having my back.
So I kept walking, heart pumping, teeth grinding against the last few missed shots from practice, the sting of my mother’s rejection, the heavy weight of responsibility sitting on my shoulders. All of it. Weighing down on me and making me feel like there was no way out.
“Looking for me?”
I came to a halt just outside Bob’s office, and blinked stupidly at her. “Yeah, I, um…”
“How was practice?” She studied me with a curious look, probably waiting for me to drop a new problem in her lap.
“Bad,” I replied, my shoulders sagging. “But nothing I can’t come back from.”
Just being in front of her sapped the tension from me, even with that questioning look she gave me.
“Okay,” she started slowly, and took the path back to her office. “What do you need me for then? We don’t have another session until tomorrow.”
Shit.
I just wanted to see her. Didn’t think so far as to make up an excuse for it. Now it hit me that would’ve probably been best, since she was all about the job.
I cleared my throat, started to say something, but came up blank. “Fuck it, I guess I wanted to talk to you. That’s all.”
She didn’t look at me, but her stride slowed and that’s how I knew she was listening. Her expression stayed neutral, and everything about her was the usual calm and collectedness I was used to.
“So… are you going to talk, or do you need me to start?”
I cradled my helmet in front of me and took a breath. “I called my mom today.”
The statement sat there, untouched, unmoving while we walked. The only reaction from Holly was the slightest nod.
“Haven’t spoken to her in… five years, I think. Before this morning.”
“Was she happy to hear from you?”
At first I thought she was kidding, but when I looked over I could tell it was an honest question. I shook my head slowly.
“Wouldn’t exactly call it that.”
We carried on in silence for a bit, and then she said, “And you’re here to blame me?”
“What? No.” I touched her arm, and she stopped walking. “I just– It’s not something I can just talk to the guys about, you know? And… I don’t know. I told you about her when we did that hospital trip.”
“And since I already know, you wanted… what? Therapy? A pep talk?”
“Maybe a little of both,” I admitted with a soft smile. “You’ve got that thing about you that just makes shit settle down, I don’t know.”
She returned my smile with more warmth than I expected, and said, “My thing is media, Hunter. Sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be much help in your family matters.”
“You don’t know that,” I said as we neared her office. “You haven’t even tried.”
She swung open her door, fixing me with an incredulous look that quickly softened. “Sit.”
I obeyed, relieved she hadn’t just blown me off. Still unsure why it mattered to me so much.
Holly sat behind her desk, elbows resting lightly, hands steepled in front of her. Her posture was relaxed but commanding. I was beginning to realize that was a default setting for her.
“What did you call her about?” she asked. “Did you invite her to a game?”
I nodded, rubbing my palms on my thighs. “Offered to fly her and my little brother out here. Put them up in a swanky hotel, the works.”
“And she said no,” Holly guessed the end of my story. “Which, inevitably, got you all up in your head, which then ruined your training session, and led to Coach McAvoy flagging you for behavior watch.”
“What?” I sat up straight. I didn’t know that last part. Then again, I’d given the locker room a skip so there was no way to know.
“I get that you’re frustrated and hurt,” she said matter-of-factly, “because you not only care about how you look on the ice, you care how people see you. That they see you. And who’s more important than family, right?”
She paused long enough to lean back in her chair, the cheap leather creaking under the shift in her weight.
“I can’t tell you much about that,” she said with a sigh, “but if there’s anything I do know, it’s control. When we have it, and when we don’t.”
I swallowed as the realization hit. “Like when it comes to how she feels about me or hockey.”
“Yup, you don’t have any control over that. I’m sorry.”
“I have control over myself,” I said then, feeling the boulder ease off my chest just a little.
“Well, on the ice, sure.” Holly smirked, the pink stain on her lips looking particularly lush in the off-brand lighting. “Off the ice, I’m the one calling the shots.”
I laughed, relishing the point when she joined in and the shaky foundation beneath my boots started to right itself. “Touche, PR, touche.”
“Don’t you get in the habit of calling me that,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I have my hands full with your teammates as is.”
My laughter simmered down, and a calm quiet stole over the office. “How do you do it? Keep your cool in everything from childish hockey players to ruthless reporters?”
She shrugged, considering my question for a while, then said, “Some people look at shit going wrong as the world being against them. But my perspective’s a little different.”
“Which is…?”
“Life doesn’t come without pressure and responsibility. It’s a given, and it’s everywhere,” she said. “For example, you have the pressure of your family dynamic, but you also have a responsibility to yourself to not let it define you.”
“You have the pressure of this job, and it’s your responsibility to… make me look good?”
She chuckled softly. “Not quite. My responsibility is to not fuck up while keeping you from fucking up. And to make my boss look good.”
“Ah, good ol’ Bob,” I said, giving him a lazy round of applause in his absence. Which is how everyone liked him best–not around. “You have to admit it sucks sometimes. The pressure, but also having to take responsibility.”
Holly leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “I know what it’s like to feel that.”
“You do?”
“Sometimes you take on more than you should,” she replied. “From bosses, from people watching your every move, even from your own expectations. You learn to carry it, or it carries you. Either way, you have to keep moving.”
“Or get left behind.”
“Precisely.” She reached up and with a flick of her wrist, her hair came tumbling out of the high bun.
I wasn’t ready for it. Caught myself staring. Studying her quiet vulnerability, and understanding it was a side she didn’t show just anyone.
“You’re good at this pep talk thing, by the way,” I said, my voice a little thick.
“I have my moments,” she replied, and then she held my gaze while she smoothed her hair and put it back up. “Better?”
“I prefer it down.”
She bit back a shy smile, then said, “I meant, are you feeling better?”
Well, shit.
I gave a nervous laugh and shifted in my chair. “Yeah, thanks. Way better.”
She leaned back again, neutral on the surface, but I noticed the faint softening around her eyes.
She’d just allowed me to see a crack, a tiny sliver of who she was beneath all the control and professionalism.
And instead of being weird about it, covering up before it goes any further, she was comfortable to let it sit there.
“You know,” I said, trying to lighten the moment, “our sessions would go a lot better if we do this kind of thing first.”
“Not a chance.” She suddenly needed to shuffle papers and urgently check something on her laptop. “I have professional boundaries, and they won’t be compromised.”
I laughed, low and genuine. “Of course, I’d never get in the way of you doing your job.”
“Oh, please,” she said without looking away from her screen. “You couldn’t if you tried.”
“Give me another week, Griswold. I can tell you’re getting soft on me.”
She froze for a fraction of a second, and I braced myself for her witty comeback.
But it never came. Nothing did. Aside from the searching look she gave me, the corners of her mouth tilting up just a smidge.
Not quite a smile, but enough to make me do a double-take.
A subtle acknowledgement of what I’d said without conceding anything at all.
Go figure.