Jake
The buzzer above us sounds, signaling that pregame skate is over and we all take one final slap of the puck into the net as we make our way down the tunnel and to the locker room.
I’m one of the last ones off the ice, and as soon as the blades of my skates hit the pavement, Coach is calling me over to him.
I walk over and he guides me into a separate room, where we wait a few moments before Connor and the twins enter as well as Coach Johnson.
It’s the first game of the new year on home ice, and I’m really excited to see what the second half of this season looks like.
“Listen, I hate to do this to you boys right before the game, but I need you to know what’s going on so you aren’t blindsided.” The coach looks directly at me and the expression on his face has my heart dropping into my stomach.
“What’s up, Coach?” Connor asks.
“As you both know, Eric Daniels was put on administrative leave, pending a full investigation into his actions and the harassment charges filed against him.” All four of us nod, not daring to speak.
“It looks like after a thorough investigation, HR has determined there is nothing actionable to the claims and that he will be returning to work as of tonight.”
I’m stunned into silence, pissed off that after everything that he’s done to who knows how many women, he’s going to get away with everything.
That after Hannah and Kailyn bravely came forward and told their stories of the verbal and sexual harassment, this piece of shit is going to walk away without facing any consequences.
Judging by the look on Coach’s face, and the frustration that lines his tone, I can tell he’s just as livid as I am, if not more.
“So, what does this mean? They can’t be serious, can they?
” As captain, Connor was immediately looped into the situation.
He didn’t know what happened that night with Hannah, only that he saw them jump apart and she seemed off after.
After he learned what really happened from her, he was pissed at himself for missing the signs and at Eric for what he did.
“We tried to fight it, but since they closed out the investigation, there’s nothing we can do. We can’t get rid of him, and we can’t move him. He’ll end up flipping the narrative and claim we’re harassing him, which gets him exactly what he wants.”
“So, we just stay silent and sit by as he sexually harasses the women that work here? Coach, your daughter works here!” I yell in frustration, finally finding my voice.
“I know!” He shouts back, and I’ve never heard him yell like this, with fear in his voice.
“You think I don’t know that. I’m just as livid as you are that he gets to continue to walk these halls and do whatever he wants to Emilia, to Kailyn, to Hannah…
to any of the girls here.” His voice gets choked up and he has to close his eyes, breathing in to control himself.
“Look,” Coach Johnson intervenes. “As screwed up as this situation is, it’s where we’re at right now. We can all sit here and be angry and feel helpless, or we can get exactly what they need. Proof.”
“And how do we do that? We just wait until he decides to hurt one of them again? He knows we’re after him, he might lay low for a while and in the meantime we’re stuck with him,” Brayden bites back in frustration.
“No, we’re done waiting, and we’re done playing by the rules. It’s time to pull out the big guns and take this sick bastard down,” Coach says, a determined look on his face.
“So, what’s the plan then?”
We’re three minutes into the third period, and the score is five to one with us in the lead against Minnesota.
I’m centered in the neutral zone, awaiting an opening so Brandon can pass the puck to me. He tries to skate out to his left but becomes cornered by one of Minnesota’s defenseman. He tries again to get rid of him with no luck, and has to send the puck out toward our zone, away from the other team.
Brandon pushes off the boards and begins to skate toward the puck when Davis, one of their defensive players, darts his stick out in front of Brandon, causing him to trip and fall face first into the ice.
The whistle blows signaling a stop to the play. The referees all gather by the penalty box as they converse, confirming the call before one of them comes skating to center ice to announce the ruling.
“Minnesota number forty-three two minute minor for tripping.” The ref calls over the loudspeaker.
I skate over to Brandon to help him stand, when Davis comes skating over screaming “That’s bullshit. You tripped on your own.”
“If having your stick in the way means that I tripped on my own, then we’ll go with your version, Davis,” Brandon goads him.
During a game, Brandon has a mouth on him and can take punches like the rest of us. Outside of the rink, you wouldn’t see this side of him. Plus, after learning that Eric is back tonight, tensions are running high.
Davis is an enforcer, known for his more aggressive playing style and tactics, as well as being one of the leaders in penalty minutes. He’s always looking to start shit, and has no problems with causing a scene and making a mess.
“That’s rich coming from you. Maybe learn to use your fucking eyes next time, pansy.
” Davis snarls, and before I can stop them, they both have their fists in each other's jerseys and are fighting.
The roar of the crowd increases, and all the players on the ice skate over to find a way to separate them.
Finding a safe opening, the refs grab onto each of them and pull them apart, breaking up the fight. “Go serve your two minutes before I make it a five, Davis,” the ref calls out.
Davis spits at the ice before he skates over to the penalty box.
“Hey, I’m mad about Eric, too, but you never fight like this.”
Wiping his face, he turns around, so he’s facing the bench. “I’m fine.”
I can tell he’s anything but fine by the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice, but he’s already skating off before I can question him further.
There's another switch to the line, and then we’re getting set for the face off, when out of the corner of my eye, I see movement from the bench. I try to ignore it and focus on the game, but I’m immediately drawn to the commotion and my vision turns completely red.
Kailyn has her back to Eric, as if she were walking away, and Eric is grabbing at her wrist, yanking her back into him. I don’t care that I’m on the ice, I don’t care that millions of people are watching, I just react. I skate off toward the bench, yanking my helmet and gloves off.
“Get your fucking hands off of her.”
Immediately every single eye in the arena is on me. But all I can see is her, the fear in her eyes at his touch. I hop over the boards and immediately have him pinned to the plexiglass, people behind us banging on it.
“What are you doing? Get off of me.” He yells back, feigning innocence. I push my arm into his neck harder, cutting off his oxygen just a little more and shoving him even more.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, scum bag.
Keep your fucking hands off of her.” There’s yelling coming from behind me, but I can’t make anything out clearly.
My heartbeat is in my ears, adrenaline is racing with pure rage.
I was already pissed when Coach told me about him being back, and while we have a plan in place, I’m not going to sit back as he tries to hurt her or anyone else.
Hands tug on the back of my jersey, and two of my teammates come to my sides, pulling my arms from him.
Reluctantly, I release him. He slumps forward, bracing his hands on his knees.
Connor holds me back, knowing that if he releases me I’ll attack him again.
After a few moments, Eric stands back up, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” I seethe.
“Threats don’t scare me. I like when they bite back, and she sure is good at that. Must be what makes her so good…” Before he can finish, I’m lunging forward, trying to break free of Connor’s grasp when a small figure steps in front of me.
“Jake, stop.” Looking down, I see Kailyn looking at me, and all I can think about is the fear in her eyes when he grabbed her. I look at her wrist and see a bruise forming, and all rational thought goes out the window as I try to lunge past her.
“Jake, please stop.” She pleads, her hands grabbing at my face to pull me to her.
My chest feels like it’s on fire. I’m filled with so much rage and fear mixed together. Rage at this man for hurting her, rage at the state of the world for how it dismisses these kinds of cases. When people don’t believe victims, when they step up and speak out only for nothing to be done.
My breathing becomes shallow and my vision starts to blur. I’m losing focus and control, and I don’t know how to get it back.
Kailyn’s hands on my cheeks and her calm breathing are the only things anchoring me to reality. We breathe each other in and out, the foggy haze of my mind clearing every so slowly as I let myself sink into her touch.
She’s my anchor, my calm in the storm, my safe space, and the only thing I need to bring me back to myself.
“That’s it, just breathe, Jake. Focus on me and nothing else.” We continue to breathe for a few more minutes, and slowly the world starts to come into focus again, my heartrate returning to normal and the ringing in my ears fading until it's just a dull hum.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, handsome. It’s not on you.” She reassures me, and once I’m finally settled, as much as I can be, she gently brushes her nose against mine before pulling away. I can feel Connor pull me back slightly as Coach comes into my peripheral vision.
“I’m sorry, Coach.” I swallow. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you should have, because if you didn’t, there’s twenty other guys on this bench that would’ve.” He nods behind us, and I turn to see my entire team looking on with various gazes of disgust and anger, all pointed at where Eric was, who must’ve been escorted off when I wasn’t in control.
“Jake, I need you to head back to the locker room right now. Get your gear, and go home. Don’t talk to anyone, and wait for me to call you, okay?” I nod at Coach, before Connor releases me, a reassuring squeeze on my shoulder.
Without looking at anyone, I make my way to the locker room, where I sink into my stall, my head between my knees, wondering if my anger and actions tonight just made everything ten times worse.