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“No. I’m saying that I want to see a culture shift. I want to see real change in the league. Less talk, more action. And not—” I held up my hand before he could insinuate that I condoned fighting “—more fighting. Even though, as you pointed out, that’s how these situations have always been handled in the past—between the players.”

“I’m just saying that opening chirps up to the refs’ interpretation and punishment puts them in an awkward position. It all feels very subjective.”

“I get that,” I said, not disagreeing. “But maybe instead of relying on the refs to police chirps, we should address the root of the behavior. I want more training or, I don’t know, something. We need to have tools so we can call out inappropriate behavior when we see it and deal with it in a constructive way.”

Levi was silent for a moment, nodding as he seemed to contemplate it. “Definitely a lot to consider. What do you think, puckers? Drop us a line to let us know what you’d like to see from the NHL. Until then, we’ll be back next week with a new episode.”

We paused for a moment, and then Levi signaled that we were done.

Cam jumped in. “All right, that’s a wrap. Good show, team.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I supposed we’d talked about hockey and given listeners something to think about. So in that sense, it was a win.

“Thanks,” Levi sighed, sliding a hand through his hair. “But I’m wondering if we need to cut the section about the fight.”

“What?” I jerked my head back. “No. Why would we do that?”

Cam cleared his throat, eyes bouncing between Levi and me. “I say we leave it. Everyone’s debating what happened, and they tune in to hear your hot take. But think it over, let me know by end of tomorrow if you change your mind. Otherwise, it’ll drop on the fifth, and I’ll see you next week.” And then his screen went dark. Chicken.

Levi dragged a hand down his face. “What’s going on with you, Lo? Is this really just about the fight, or is something else going on?”

I watched him, trying to determine what was really bothering me. The fight. The sponsorship offer. Carson…

Levi continued speaking. “Look, I agree with you. What Wilson said was wrong. And I know how important Derek was to you. How important Frasier and Bryn are to you. But I also don’t want to keep repeating what Wilson said and bringing attention to it or risk feeding into a false or sensationalist narrative about Bryn, Derek, and Frasier.”

Oh.

I hadn’t thought of that. And Levi made a good point. “I appreciate where you’re coming from, but I wasn’t repeating what Wilson said. I was condemning his actions. It’s important to have these conversations. As players, as fans, as the league. Otherwise, we can’t learn from our mistakes. We can’t grow.”

“You’re right,” Levi said, softening. “The league’s culture… I mean, it’s not ideal. But it’s not as awful as you make it seem either.”

“Dude.” I stared him down, some of my earlier sympathy fading. “You are a heteronormative white guy playing hockey. Of course it doesn’t seem bad to you. The system is built to suit people like you.”

His skin paled, and I wondered if I’d pushed too far. But then he said, “I get that, but you act like it’s somehow my fault for being born into the system, when I don’t like it any more than you do.” He threw his hands in the air, and I wished I could reach through the screen and shake some sense into him.

“I don’t think you get it, Levi,” I said, trying to remain calm. “If you’re not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. You can’t stay silent, watching from the sidelines, hoping something will change.”

“And having both sides fighting on the ice is part of the solution?” His tone was incredulous. “You talk about growing the game and setting an example for the next generation of players, and that is not it.”

“I agree. I don’t want more fighting either, but standing up to bullies is part of the solution.” I hesitated to even ask this because I figured it would set Levi off even more, but I had to. “Would you still feel the same way about it if Carson hadn’t been involved?” When Levi hesitated, I added, “Be honest.”

“I’m not going to get along with everyone in the league, just like I’m sure you aren’t besties with everyone in the PWHL.”

I rolled my eyes. What a cop-out.

Almost everyone in the league knew that my brother hated Carson, but no one seemed to know why. Even I was still wondering, all these years later. I couldn’t get a read on Carson’s feelings toward Levi. Fortunately, Carson was professional enough not to say anything, but sometimes my brother couldn’t seem to help himself.

“What’s your problem with him anyway?” I asked, not for the first time. “You guys used to be so close. When you played juniors for the NTDP, it was all ‘Carson this and Carson that.’”

They hadn’t just been teammates; they’d been best friends. Hell, Levi had even lived with Carson’s family while they’d played in the National Team Development Program in Michigan. But they’d had a falling-out, and even now, years later, my brother still held a grudge. And despite what my brother thought about Carson, I respected the man.

“You don’t understand, Lo.”

“Then help me understand.” I met his eyes on the screen, the same hazel shade as mine. Sometimes looking at him was like looking into a mirror, and we’d often been mistaken for twins, despite the fact that I was a few years older. When he continued to remain silent, I said, “Lee. You’re my brother, and I’ve got your back.”

Levi let out a heavy sigh, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “He can’t be trusted. He says one thing and does another.”

I blinked a few times, stunned. That was the most Levi had ever admitted about the situation between him and Carson. Before I could push for more info, Levi said, “I don’t think we should sign the Brightside deal. Not unless they’re going to pay us the same amount.”