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“I’m no longer your coach anymore. And you and Penelope are grown adults. This isn’t college anymore—there’s far more on the line than just a college championship. We’re playing with people’s money now,” he says. “You and I have the same boss, and Phil Carlton wants a Stanley Cup. I can’t bench you for going anywhere near my daughter like I could in college. That’s Coach Bex’s job now. But I can trade your ass if you don’t perform, so whatever you’re up to, it better not distract you from what we hired you to do. Otherwise, I’ll find someone else to fill your spot.”
“I understand,” I say. “I’m ready to win. I’m going to make you proud of me again,” I tell him.
He stares back at me for a second.
“I’ve always been proud of you, Slade. That’s never changed.”
I wasn’t expecting him to say that, and it takes me off guard. My father would never have words like that for me, not even when I graduated with honors in the courses he required of me.
“Thanks, coach,” I say as a last respect for the relationship we’ve grown out of.
I know I lost some of Sam’s respect the day that he found out about the rumors, but to hear that he’s still proud of me means that one of the things I set out to accomplish by coming back to Seattle is done and I’m going to continue to earn Sam’s approval.
Now, I just need to win over his daughter.
I have one more trick up my sleeve—a last resort. I planned on leaving this one in the past where it belongs. I chanced it for too long and it almost got me caught. If Penelope finds out that I’m WinTheDay067, and that I basically catfished her to get close to her, I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.
Then again, without persuasion from someone she trusts, she may never let down her guard.
I’m going to have to run the risk and hope it pays off.
“Ok then,” he nods with a sigh. I’m not sure if it’s one of relief or one of knowing he has no control and has to relent anyway. I hope it’s the first. “Don’t do anything stupid, Matthews.”
Thanks for the famous last words, Sam.
Because when it comes to Penelope, it seems the only things I know how to do… are stupid.
Chapter Six
Slade
Boarding our flight for our away game, the second to last week of the regular season, excitement seems to fill the large aircraft as players stow their bags and take their seats.
Everyone seems to have their usual spot next to another teammate—two players per row of three seats on either side of the aisle, with coaches and other staff mixed in among the rows.
I notice that most of the back of the aircraft is still empty. It puts me closer to the lavatories, which isn’t favorable, considering I’m on an aircraft full of athletes who eat more calories than the average human, and what goes in has to come out, eventually. But it also gives me a better opportunity to sit alone.
I’m still the newest member on the roster, and throughout my entire career, except for college, I’m used to not forming tight relationships with my teammates since my father moved us around so much.
I’m used to coming into teams as the new kid, having to prove myself, and then leaving just as I hit my rhythm with my teammates.
I’m used to the look of players on the team staring at me, assuming that my talents are all overstated and inflated, and having to prove myself on the ice… over and over again.
The farm team felt like an extension of that, except that all the players seemed to feel the same way. Either they were buying their time until they’d have to leave hockey altogether and retire into a desk job, or they didn’t expect to be on the farm team for long because they thought they’d be getting picked up by an NHL team sooner or later.
Everyone was playing to stand out, not to blend into a team.
It’s why I stay to myself. It’s easier that way.
Every season since I started on the farm, scouts for NHL teams still offering me deals would ask me what I was doing, wasting my talent.
My father’s calls after every loss to ask me why I hadn’t thrown in the towel yet and applied for medical school didn’t help either.
I was waiting on Sam’s call, and I had to believe eventually, he would let me up for air. Then he finally did, and I’m in a position to do what I’ve come here to do.
I’m here to do a job, and that’s what I’ll do. I don’t have to make friends. It’s not a requirement for me to win.
I take my seat at the end of the last row, stowing my large backpack overhead to give myself leg room.
