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I noticed that you lost the puck on that one play, what are you doing to make sure that doesn’t happen again?
You guys struggled on the breakout tonight, how are you going to fix that?
Was Rome Dawson, the newest addition to the Eagles, your toughest competition tonight?
I mean, those weren’t the actual questions.
But close enough.
And they all result in useless fucking sound bites.
Especially when everyone knows that Rome is the only reason the Eagles are doing as good as they’re doing.
Traded after spending his entire career with the San Francisco Gold, he’s now found himself playing for the newest team in the league and his Bay Area rival.
Tricky shit.
Especially when he’s still really close with the guys from the Gold.
He’s a pain in the ass on the ice, though.
So winning tonight feels good.
EvenifI have to answer dumb questions.
But press is done, I’m showered and heading for my car. Soon, Nova and I can chill for a few days, and not that I’ll admit it to her, but I find that I’m looking forward to some shitty Christmas movies now that we’re actually in the month of December.
I start up the engine and head out, thankful the drive home is less than half an hour, the arena situated closer to Reno than South Lake for ease of access. Which means that I’m in a kickass neighborhood that’s surrounded by nature, situated in the forest and still has a small-town feel, but also the perks of living close to a decent-sized city.
It’s why I was initially excited to play here.
That’s changed, clearly.
But it still has the perk of being away from my family—
As if summoned by the devil himself, my phone rings and I look to the dash, see it’s my mother calling.
“Jesus,” I mutter, jabbing at the screen, rejecting the call.
I want to go home.
I want to enjoy myself.
I wantpeace.
And I want to have all of that with Nova.
I don’t want drama and bullshit and…I don’t want to deal with my mom right now. I’ll call her in the morning, endure the long, frustrating phone call.
Tonight, I just want peace.
Only, the moment I reject the call, my cell rings again, my mom’s number coming up again on the screen set into the console.
“Fuck,” I say on a hiss, jabbing at the button to accept it.
Just get it over with.
“Hi, Mom.”
