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It’s been two and a half months since I was suspended from the team and walked away. Almost seven weeks since I went to Pittsburgh to watch the Titans in the playoffs.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
Fumbling around in the cabinet beneath the sink, I pull out my electric razor and attach the beard trimmer. Leaning over the sink, I run it through the coarse hair and let it fall away from my face.
It’s like I’m being reborn, shedding the last vestiges of my hockey self.
I lather up and shave the stubble, expecting to see a new person.
Sadly, it’s the same old disappointing fuck who was there before I stepped into the shower, except now without the beard.
With a sigh, I unhook the towel from around my waist and toss it over the shower’s edge to dry. I brush my teeth, put my contacts in, and move into the bedroom where my clothes have been moved from suitcases to drawers.
Once dressed, I head into the kitchen to make breakfast. I’ve been up for two hours already, having worked out before my shower. Stone has an unfinished basement that I’ve been steadily filling with weights—no way in hell I want to call attention to myself by working out at the local gym.
I scramble up some eggs with toast and eat standing at the counter while looking out the window over the backyard. It’s about an acre of thick green grass, bordered all the way around by forest—another fifteen acres that come with the property. The house sits back from the road, so I’m relatively secluded, and I love that I can’t see a single fucking soul.
When I’m done eating, I clean up the plate and pan and wipe down the counters. One thing that’s changed over the last few months is that I’ve actually become a bit of a neat freak.
Which implies—and is accurate—that I was a slob before. But I was busy as fuck and didn’t really care if my dirty dishes piled up. Being unemployed and not wanting to go anywhere leaves a lot of time to clean.
About the only place I do go is the grocery store, and that’s a necessity since the town doesn’t have conveniences such as grocery delivery. I’ve been going early in the morning in the hopes of avoiding recognition, but it’s happened. There’ve beena few folks who’ve done double takes, and one flat out asked if I was Coen Highsmith.
I was tempted to say no. I looked different with the longer hair and beard, and I’m still wearing my glasses because I don’t bother with my contacts most of the time.
But I didn’t lie, because lies are what have poisoned my entire world, and I can’t be that type of person anymore. I smiled, posed for a selfie, and signed a grocery receipt.
It wasn’t so bad in the end.
Maybe one day, I’ll work up the energy to have a beer at one of the town’s bars. It’s not that I plan on hiding forever. It’s just that right now, I like not being around people. Privacy is my best friend.
I grab my phone to check the time and see that it’s time to hit the road. Keys in hand, I flip through my messages as I walk out the front door.
Grimacing, I see my dad left me a voicemail. I’m a glutton for punishment, so I listen to it.
“Coen… this is the third message I’ve left. I demand you call me back and give me an update. As you well know, the charges against you in New York and the suspension are a complete embarrassment, and I need to know that you’re fixing these things. Your mother and I are humiliated and—”
Delete.
Same old shit. Two parents who care more about their society standing because their professional athlete son is a disgrace.
If Dad only knew that he hadn’t seen the worst of what I’ve done.
♦
I haven’t beenback to Pittsburgh since that playoff game, but I don’t mind today’s trip.
That text I’d sent to Stone asking to buy his cabin set into motion a series of events that led me to the law office of his girlfriend, Harlow Alston. After Stone and I negotiated and agreed upon a price, she handled all the legalities, and today we’re closing the deal.
I’ll walk out of here the owner of that cabin and the surrounding land, and I’ll be ready to settle into my new life.
Stone and I sit in the small conference room waiting for Harlow to finish up a phone call on another case. She worked me into her schedule today as she and Stone are leaving on a vacation tomorrow and I wanted to get this done.
Flipping his phone toward me, he asks, “Are you on this Facebook page?”
I lean forward and peer at the screen: Titan Family Page.
I shake my head, and he turns the phone away, scrolling through pictures.
