Chapter 44 Beckett
Beckett
“Did you hear the news?” Larsen asks, barging into my apartment as soon as I open the door.
I follow as he strides past my kitchen and through the living room to stare out my windows. I’m too interested in what has him so worked up to acknowledge anything but a fleeting annoyance that he’s in my apartment. “What news?”
Please don’t let it be about my hip.
I haven’t had enough time to process that information, let alone talk about it with a rookie who might have a decade left to play.
There’s another knock, and Larsen flicks a hand at it like this is his apartment and I’m his personal door opener.
“Dude! You left me!” Li exclaims, glaring at his friend. “You literally ran to the elevator and hit the close door button.”
Larsen shrugs his wide shoulders. “You can’t expect me to wait after we just got news like that!”
“Do either of you children want to clue me in?” A nervous energy snaking up the back of my neck. I glance between the two men. Something doesn’t feel right here.
“Coach is suspended!” The declaration bursts from Larsen like he just couldn’t hold it in any longer, but then it sits, suspended in the middle of the room.
“Coach… Shaw?” I ask, naming the forwards coach, who I always felt was a little too sure of himself. I could see him getting up to some shady shit.
Li shakes his head, his eyes wide as he looks at me.
“Coach Blake,” Larsen says, and it’s like I’m hit square in the chest by a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound opponent moving at a full sprint.
They’re both watching me, and I can’t tell if it’s because they expect me to already know, or if they suspect I had something to do with it.
“Why?” I ask, dropping onto the couch behind me as my legs all but give out.
Li starts doing something on his phone as Larsen turns back to the windows.
“They won’t tell us!” Larsen complains. “I stopped by her office today, and Paige said she was out for the next few weeks. It was only after I asked about five hundred questions that she finally admitted that Coach was on temporary suspension while they investigated a self-reported possible conflict of interest.”
Holy fucking shit.
That can’t be…
Then one word hits me. Self-reported.
She did this.
But why?
“Here,” Li says, sitting down next to me and holding his phone out. “The email from the team. You should’ve gotten it, too. And then here—” He swipes to a news app. “This is the official announcement they released about twenty minutes ago.”
I skim through the public statement first, words like “temporary administrative leave” and “self-reported potential conflict of interest,” sticking out as I skim through the three sentences.
My insides are a mess of emotions. Is this about us?
It can’t be, right? Why the fuck would she tell them?
We ended things so we could avoid this exact situation.
If she gets fired, everything—the longing I’ve pushed aside, the evenings alone, the deep hunger for her that I tell myself isn’t real—it’s all been for nothing.
Or what if it’s not about you? Maybe she’s getting some sponsorship deal that crossed a line.
Maybe it’s a super benign conflict, like the team wants to bring her dad on as an advisor or something.
Or maybe I’m not the first player she’s slept with—I shake my head, dislodging the thought I know is a lie.
I wasn’t one of many. I—we—were something special.
So, even though I’m not certain that I’m what she’s confessing, I know there aren’t loads of other men out there.
The comments section is already chaos, speculation ranging from basically nothing, to preferential treatment because of her father, to the league covering up the fact she’s having a baby with one of her players.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this nauseous.
Unable to stomach the toxic speculation, I pull up the email from White on my phone, handing Li’s back to him. The message is essentially the same. Temporary leave. The organization is conducting a review. It’s “procedural in nature.”
I let out a choked laugh when I reach the line that says, “We ask that all players and staff refrain from speculation.” Yeah. Like that will happen. Hockey players are bigger gossips than a women’s coffee group.
“Don’t laugh,” Larsen demands, shaking his head.
“This is a big deal. I mean, Coach is the squeakiest clean person I’ve ever met.
She turned herself in, for fuck’s sake. What if she leaves?
What if she gets fired? What if they get a new coach who trades me?
” He drops his forehead to the window. “What if they bring up Shaw, and we have to listen to him showboat about how great he is every time he’s on camera? ”
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, not really believing it.
I hope this is just something minor. Because if she fucking told them about us… she’d burn for it.
An all-too-realistic image of Finley tied to a stake in the middle of the ice, while fans in Yeti jerseys throw fireballs at her, pops into my mind, and I almost sob.
She wouldn’t put herself at risk like that, would she? For you, she might comes unbidden to my mind, but I know that can’t be true. We could’ve stayed together and kept it secret until I retired, but she said no.
I clench my fists. She ended things with me to prevent this exact situation. So maybe this isn’t about us. Maybe this isn’t about what I pushed us toward. What she tried so hard to avoid, and I literally followed her into a snowstorm to convince her to do.
“This might be my fault.” I clear my throat, the guilt sitting on my chest needing somewhere to go. I know I should be trying to pull those words back in, but—shit—I trust these two. Somewhere along the way, they became the first real friends I’ve had in a long time.
Larsen stops pacing. “What do you mean?”
“We… I…” I start, not quite sure how to say more without confessing Finley’s secrets.
Li shakes his head at me. “You didn’t.”
Those two words were enough, it seems.
Larsen turns to me, getting right up in my face.
I relish the anger in his eyes. If this is about me, it’s exactly what I deserve.
“They told you not to! There was a clear, don’t-fuck-Coach lecture given.
” His fist clenches, and I hope he hits me.
Even if Finley’s conflict of interest is something completely unrelated, it’s still the least I deserve.
Instead, he stalks away.
“And she… agreed to sleep with you?” Li questions, his eyes narrowed, not out of anger, but in calculation. Like he’s putting together the pieces Larsen is missing.
“Jesus Christ, are you asking if it was consensual, Li?” Larsen snarls, turning his ire on Li. “It’s Kane, for fuck’s sake. Of course he didn’t fucking rape her.”
I cringe. “Definitely did not—”
“Of course he didn’t,” Li jumps in, still calm, still rational. “I was just thinking. Coach doesn’t sleep around. There’s never anything in the media about her being spotted with different men.” He looks at Larsen as he explains. “But she slept with Kane. Why?”
Jesus Christ. I regret opening my mouth.
“Because he’s fucking stacked and has that silver-fox look about him.”
I run my hands through my hair. “Am I going gray?” I know it’s off topic, but I can’t stop myself.
“No,” Li replies, his attention still on Larsen.
Larsen, though, gives me a once-over, his lips pulled to the side in thought. “You just look like you’re going to be a silver fox. I think it’s the way your chin is, like, really defined.”
“Can we please focus on the fact that our coach slept with her player and is now on leave?” Li asks. “Fuck. I thought there was no way this was a big deal. But, fuck. What if it is? If she told them about you, they’re going to fire her. There’s no way they won’t.”
I raise my palms in a placating gesture. “It might be okay.”
Larsen starts pacing again. “Of course you would say that, asshole. That’s probably what you told her, too, and look where we are now.”
My pulse rises. “Jesus, Larsen.” My gaze burns into his. “Do you think I somehow conned Finley Blake into sleeping with me? We both knew what we were doing.”
Li cuts off Larsen’s retort. “When was this?” He’s clearly thinking much more logically than Larsen or me.
I lean back against the couch. “The night of the blizzard. She got locked out of her apartment and ended up staying here.”
Li nods. “And it was only once?”
“It was only that one weekend,” I hedge. Li subtly raises his eyebrows at the distinction but is fortunately classy enough not to act on it.
He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes darting back and forth. “But you were on IR that weekend, right?”
I nod. “Do you think it matters?”
“It definitely doesn’t make it okay, but it helps.” He walks toward the windows. “And you played less after it, not more. But that was the doctor’s recommendation, not Coach’s.”
I’m not sure whether he’s talking to himself or me at this point, but I let him keep going.
“But it’s not going to matter. They’ll never let her be your coach now that they know, and they can’t trade you—that’d be so bad. You’re the protected one here. They’re going to have to fire her.”
My throat closes. Hearing Li say it makes it real in a way it hasn’t been so far. Finley and I were too wrapped up in each other to think logically. Larsen is a hothead. But, Li? Li is thinking it through. He evaluated it the same way the team will.
I drop my head into my hands, tugging at the ends of the strands.
“Unless…” He trails off, turning to look at me.
A faint glimmer of hope lights up my chest.
“Unless what?” I ask, my heartbeat increasing with anticipation.
“What’s the plan?” Larsen asks.
Li taps a finger against his leg. “Unless you’re not a Yeti any longer.”
No. It’s the only word in my frozen mind.
No, I can’t. Or, maybe I should—for so many reasons—but I won’t.
I can play through this injury for one more season. I can get that C on my jersey and fulfill the dream my dad had. The only thing I have left of the man.
I imagine skating onto the ice, hearing my name announced after the word captain. The crowd roaring with excitement.
A nameless, faceless man standing behind the bench, arms crossed.
And Finley, at home on her couch. No one next to her. Watching the game with her notebook open. Because she can’t stop loving the game.
Even if it stopped loving her.
And my heart cracks open.
“But you can’t retire for her,” Larsen says.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “That’s literally what Li just told me to do.”
Larsen shakes his head. “One, we don’t know whether you’re what she turned herself in for, and two, Coach would never forgive you if you retired for her. If you’re going to make that decision, you’d better be real damn sure you’re doing it for yourself.”
“I—” I pause. Would I make the same decision if Finley were completely out of the picture? If retiring didn’t have the ability to save her career? The only way I’ll ever know is if this blows over without HR ever contacting me to investigate.
“I’m starting to see a future for myself that isn’t necessarily playing hockey,” I admit, and it feels like a confession, one I need to be absolved from.
“I know there is a chance that Finley isn’t part of my future, but the future that I envision with her, I do want those things.
Her, yes, obviously. But also, I want to be able to pick my kids up someday.
To chase them around on the ice rink in our backyard.
To go on hikes with my wife without needing to take a bottle of painkillers with me. ”
“Does that mean you want to retire?” Li asks.
“Would you?” I ask my friends.
Li purses his lips. “Yeah. I would. When my body tells me I’m done, I’m going to be done. I hope it’s in a decade, but even if it’s tomorrow, I’ve had a damn good run, doing something I love as a career.”
“I have had quite the run,” I agree.
“And you’re getting old as fuck,” Larsen chimes in, a smirk flashing across his face.
“There is that.”
“Okay,” Li says, heading toward the door.
“You need to think about it. Like, really think about it. And we’ll come back tomorrow and make a plan in case you are the reason she confessed.
If you get a call from anyone on the HR team, just let it go to voicemail, and call them back tomorrow.
And even if you don’t decide to retire, well, maybe there’s some other way we can make this okay… if it comes to that.”
I watch them leave before dropping my head into my hands.
Do I want to retire? No. I love this game, and I love playing it.
But is it time? With every passing day, every painful step, it’s looking more and more like the answer might be yes. Like I need to let go of the dream I’ve been chasing for my parents and focus on a new dream—one that’s mine. One that doesn’t require me to sacrifice my health for my own happiness.