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Don’t say it. Don’t say it. If you don’t say it, it’s probably not true.
He asked me to leave. He chose hockey over me. The team over me.
Dillon Le Coeur wouldalwayschoose the team.
Which meant I had to choose myself. My life. My future career in skating. All of that was in Montreal.
Back in my office, I kicked off my very uncomfortable heels and put on my flip flops. Pulling open the laptop, I started to go through my emails. Despite the beautiful food that the team had put out for me, my stomach had been so nervous I hadn’t eaten all day.
I opened the big drawer in the desk where I had learned to keep some snacks, and blindly reached inside for my family-size bag of peanut butter M&Ms. What I got instead was a handful of condoms.
My drawer was stuffed to overflowing with condoms. Individually wrapped, ribbed and mega-sized.
As pranks went, it was fairly generic. Swap out M&Ms for condoms. But I wasn’t crazy about the sexual component of it. Was this Novek? It didn’t feel like Novek. After these past few days of one-on-one practice, I thought we had some mutual respect. Even casual friendship. The guy had the ego of someone five times his size, but he was kind of funny.
These condoms did not feel like mutual respect.
Something chilling rolled down my spine.
Tentatively, I opened the other drawer on my left. Hoping for something innocent like a bunch of fake snakes. Instead, inside the drawer was a massive pink dildo. A typed note on top.
USE THIS INSTEAD
This wasn’t a prank. This was a message. Every ounce of outrage came to life. I wanted to take the stupid dildo, toss it on the ice, and ask which one of them thought this was funny.
Show some damn courage instead of an anonymous note.
Shit like this didn’t work with me. Shit like this only made me want to stay and fight.
But there was no way to fight. My contract was up and Dillon told me I wasn’t good for him.
So what was there to fight for? I’d thought today, watching them on the ice, that we were coming to feel like family.
Boy, was I wrong.
One asshole really didn’t want me to be a part of the team.
One asshole and Dillon.
I slammed both drawers shut, careful to school my expression so that if I passed any of the guys on the way to the coach’s office they wouldn’t know how pissed I was.
By the time I reached Coach McKay’s office, I was calmer. At least more in control of my emotions. I’d felt so good today. I’d felt important and successful and… special. Like all my hard work had earned me some VIP treatment.
Now I just felt like I’d been put back in my place. In a box.
I knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Just as I reached for the door handle, the door opened. Novek was on the other side.
“Hey Coach,” he said with his chin nod.
“Did you put that shit in my desk?” I asked him in a low tone. I wasn’t here to rat him out, but I needed to know if it was him.
He looked startled, but then he nodded. “Yes. The gloves? That was me.”
“No. The shit that’s in there now?”
