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“The fuck?” Dillon said.
“No,” I said curtly. “My contract with the Bruisers was always going to be temporary. But enough about me. You guys get back to work.”
I stepped back and the coaching staff split the team to do more specialized drills.
Dillon skated over, making a show of putting the water bottle on the bench.
“It went well?” he asked, and I nodded.
“Is it a lot of money?” I nodded again, unable to stop my smile.
“Let me take you out to celebrate.”
After my sleepover last week he’d respected my space, but I kept thinking about those toothbrushes in the cup. I was a fool for wanting what was never going to happen.
But before I could say anything, Coach McKay was walking over to me.
“Coach Branch, a minute?”
Dillon skated away.
“Yes, Coach?” I asked.
McKay had started coming to the skating practices a few weeks back. He asked smart questions, made even smarter suggestions. I felt like we had a real partnership, so I’d told him about the Montreal interview a few days ago. I hadn’t wanted to blindside him.
In some ways, it had felt like I was telling my father I wanted to move out. But he was cool and echoed what the assistant coaches had told me. This was just how it was done in professional sports. Nothing was ever permanent.
As far as bosses went, he was the opposite of a micromanager and he led by example. He trusted his staff and let us do our thing. I didn’t love the offensive assistant coach, Gary, more because he was an ass-kisser and less because I could tell he didn’t respect me. I preferred straight shooters.
McKay was about as straight a shooter as they come.
“Can you stop in my office in an hour?”
That didn’t sound good. “Sure. No problem. Is this about Montreal? Because I cleared the morning with Joyce.”
“No,” he said. “Well, yes, but we can discuss it further later today.”
Shit. Had I screwed this all up? Was there some sort of unwritten rule, that sure you could interview with another team while under contract, but the second you did, you would be fired. McKay was probably going to just tell me to go ahead, clear out my locker and leave.
I could kiss that extension clause goodbye. But I’d already done that, really. Because Dillon didn’t want me here and I couldn’t be where I wasn’t wanted.
Still, a sudden rush of panic filled my chest. This was happening. I was leaving Dillon. I wouldn’t see him or talk to him or…
Breathe. Breathe.
Focus on the future. Things were going well.
The first preseason game was this Friday. My parents and brother were flying in tomorrow. I wondered if my dad had told my mom about that contract or if he was waiting so I could make a big announcement. They would be so proud. So proud.
Maybe they would apologize for not believing in me. Mom might cry. Dad would absolutely cry.
Everyone would be happy.
Only not really.
Because I could never tell them about this guy I liked. Who I was crazy about. I could never tell them how he made me think I could trust someone again. Be vulnerable with someone. I couldn’t tell them how my heart was getting crushed.
Not from disappointment, or failure, but from straight up…
