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“Yeah,” Gage replies, grabbing salt and pepper. “He bought a downtown condo. We’ve already had a meeting with the whole coaching staff. I think he’ll be good for getting the team to gel.”
I cut into my salad. “Man, it’s hard for me to remember you’re a coach and not a player.”
“Hard for me too sometimes,” Gage replies as he stabs a cucumber.
There’s a moment of silence as we all take bites, but it’s Stone who turns things distinctly uncomfortable for me. “Now that Gage is a coach, there’s a captain slot available.”
My head lifts, and he’s looking straight at me. Baden’s and Gage’s forks still above their plates.
I keep my tone light but dismissive. “You’d make a great captain.”
“You’d make a better one,” he replies, his tone just as light but in no way dismissive. “You’re the best choice for this team.”
“I’m not on this team,” I remind him.
“Wrong,” Gage says, and my gaze slides to him. “You’re still on the roster. You’re still drawing a salary. You promised Brienne and Callum you wouldn’t make a decision on quitting until training camp.”
Those things are all fucking true, but I’ve quit in my heart. That’s what I mean. “Nothing has changed in my mind. I’m done with hockey.”
“The fuck you are,” Stone growls. “You wouldn’t have played with us today if that were the case. You wouldn’t have taken the time to do a selfie with a young fan, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be asking how the team is shaping up or asking about Cannon West if you weren’t still tied to it.”
I set my utensils down and pick up my bourbon. I take a hefty swallow before I look around the table. “I told Gage this when he came to visit a few weeks ago, but I broke major trust with one of the players who was on the team, and the guilt is—”
“Stop,” Stone says, holding up a hand. “I don’t give a fuck what you did.”
I glance at Gage. It’s the same thing he said to me, but he holds his silence, instead picking up his fork and digging into his salad.
“But I—”
“No one’s interested,” Baden says, cutting me off. “Not our business.”
“It is when it comes to the matter of trust,” I growl, my gaze moving back and forth among the men. “You know what a team is. We’re family. We’re brothers. And I—”
“Stop,” Stone orders again. “No matter what comes out of your mouth, no one cares. It’s in the past. It’s over. It doesn’t involve us. It’s not who you are.”
“How do you know that?” I demand angrily. “You don’t know me at all.”
“Not for lack of trying,” he retorts.
I take in a breath and let it out. “I could do the same to any one of you. You really want that on the team?”
“No, you couldn’t,” Stone says. “No one that torn up would ever repeat whatever that mistake was. No one who would throw away a career without a backward glance would ever repeat that mistake. So if you’re worried about being worthy of our trust,that’s an argument you can’t win. No one sitting here or in that locker room would believe it about you.”
I glance over at Gage, and he shrugs. “I tried to tell you the same thing, and let me assure you, I’ve not told these guys about our conversation. They’re coming to their own conclusions.”
“Listen,” Baden says, and my attention goes to him. “I know a little something about how traumatizing it is to lose this career, so I know you’re not taking things lightly. I get the distinct impression you’re giving it up because you feel like that’s the only way to make things right.”
I blink at him. When you boil it all down, that’s exactly how I feel.
“You already paid for your sins, Coen. You paid for it by losing out on this season. Don’t continue to bleed for it when the bill has already been paid in full. You’ve done enough.”
“But you don’t know what I’ve done,” I insist.
“Again,” Stone drawls, stepping into the conversation, “we don’t give a shit. All we care about is a team member who we see beating himself up day in and day out. A friend so wracked by remorse and guilt, he’s not able to function. We see a man who made a mistake, accepted responsibility for it, and has atoned a hundred times over by all the ways in which he’s lost out already. So, dude… man the fuck up, and let it go.”
His last words are heated. Just a few months ago, anyone who took that tone with me would’ve received a mouth full of knuckles.
Surprisingly, it’s like a pin has popped my balloon, and I deflate. I’m exhausted from it all, but I still have my doubts. “Just let it go?” I ask for clarification.
