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And that Liv would take what I said to heart and move on.
16
Liv
Iwanted to bang things. Smash things. Pulverize everything and everyone in sight. I’d had rages like these after my accident. When I was coming to understand that while I’d been so incredibly lucky to retain full brain function, full cognitive ability and make a full physical recovery… I was never going to compete again.
Yeah. I hadn’t taken the end of my life as I had known it very well.
Was this as bad as that moment? No. But I was pissed. Righteously pissed.
I knew I could tell Dillon to fuck off. That this was my job, and I would handle it the way I saw fit. We should be able to be adults and work together without letting the weekend we shared interfere with that.
Only I was just as much to blame for not being able to put it behind me. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t like seeing his face. I didn’t like hearing his voice. I didn’t like being in the same space with him knowing we were nothing more than colleagues to one another.
It didn’t feel right. It felt like a lie and I hated lying. It messed with my stomach.
So he was an asshole.
But he was right.
Staying here was bad for both of us.
Sitting back down behind my desk, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out my contract with the Bruisers.
It was officially up in two weeks. What I hadn’t told Dillon was that there was an extension clause included. Obviously it had to be mutual. The team had to want me to stay and I had to want to stay.
I liked working here. I liked the guys and the staff. I’d been holding out hope that I might be offered an extension. Now Dillon was telling me, in no uncertain terms, not to take it even if it was offered.
Montreal? I mean, I guess. It couldn’t be any colder than Maine. Also, I loved poutine as much as the next carb and cheese-obsessed girl.
Montreal wasn’t here, though. It wasn’t the Bruisers. It wasn’t watching O’Rourke work so hard and improve so much. It wasn’t Skalsberg and Smith calling me Coach and coming down to my office to talk about skating at the end of practice.
It was so far away from Dillon, which was the point, I suppose.
This sucked.
I’d had a Zoom call with the staff in Montreal and they’d asked me to come up to see the facilities and meet the team face to face. I’d been hesitant to interview while still under contract, but what Dillon said about not waiting made sense. A lot of the other assistant coaches had echoed the same thing. When the team called for you, you went. Because you always wanted to keep your opportunities open.
I quickly pulled up the last email from them and confirmed the dates I was available for a visit.
An email came back immediately. Next Wednesday morning, they would send the team jet.
Holy shit. Even with my broken heart I had to smile. That was some baller shit right there. My brother would lose his mind.
I put away the contract and packed up my stuff for the day. My plan was to go home and eat girl dinner until I was sick. Which, knowing the contents of my fridge, meant pickles with mayonnaise on Wheat Thins and a chocolate bar with peanut butter on it. Maybe that and a gallon of wine might make me feel better.
The weather had started to shift and it was getting darker earlier. Tonya was one of the last cars in the parking lot, but there was a figure leaning against it. For a second my heart picked up.
Dillon.
Planning to apologize and say he changed his mind.
No. It was Novek.
My heart sank. This wasn’t going to go very well.
“Hey Novek, what’s up?”
