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Coach intercepts me on my way to the locker room. “Got a minute, Beck?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He just grabs my elbow and steers me into his nearby office.
I sit across from him as he slides into his chair behind his desk. “Saw your mug in the paper again.”Oh, shit.“Fortunately, you weren’t trashing a hotel room or peeing in a fountain.” He holds up a copy of some tabloid rag. On the front, Sloan is barely hidden behind me as I hold my hand out like I can block a wide-angle lens with my meaty paw.
“I’m photogenic. What can I say?”
Once upon a time, I found the attention to be fun. When I’m being called into the boss’s office for it, not as much.
He chuckles. “At least you aren’t mooning anyone. This time.”
“There’s always an upside if you look hard enough.”
“Just keep your upside in your pants, Beck.” He sets the paper down. “Speaking of which, how are things with the girl?”
“She’s good. Good for me.”
Coach isn’t a man who’s prone to smiles or shows of emotion. Behind the bench, he’s animated, but here or in the locker room, he keeps it lowkey.
But now, he grins. “We know. Weallknow.” His grin turns to a laugh. “I already talked to Viv. She’s going to put the word out about you and your girl. Maybe set up an interview so you can control the narrative.”
“I’m thinking about switching PR teams inside the management company.” I don’t even know if it’s possible.
“Why?” He tilts his head at me like I’m losing my grip on reality and he’s trying to bring me back around. “Viv’s the best they have. She knows her shit and people respect her.”
“If ‘people’ respect her, then what the fuck am I?”
“Well, you know—not people who sleep with her, let her live with them, and then move out without telling her.”
He does paint a picture.
I nod. “Ah. Those people.”
“Yeah.Thosepeople.” He sits back in his chair and looks at me. “Beck, we all know you’re going to the Hall of Fame when you’re done skating. You could probably charm your way into my job, even. But without Viv teaching you how to play ball off the ice, you would’ve been traded, cut, gone.” He shrugs. “Maybe cut her some slack.”
I hate that he’s right. Viv has never been the hero in my story. But once upon a time, she helped me correct the course.
“Fine.”
By the time we finish and I head home, I’m calm, in a good mood. At least, until I walk in the house and find Sloan on the sofa, a box of tissues in her lap, a blanket covering her legs and her eyes rimmed in red from crying.
“Jesus, Sloan. What’s wrong?”
She points at the TV, sniffle, and mumbles a bunch of what I can only assume are words related to whatever Ryan Gosling is doing on the TV.
I chuckle. “It’s a good thing we’re already… whatever we are. Or that sound right there would’ve gotten you a to-go cup of coffee and cab fare.”
“I live across the hall from you, asshole.”
I don’t question her geography but we both know she hasn’t slept in that room in weeks. She might be in a saucy mood; some might even call it cranky. Although, I learned my lesson and don’t use that word to the woman whose uterus is currently occupied by my offspring.
She clicks the remote so the screen goes black and then she stalks her way over to me. “You’re right. I’m an asshole. This asshole missed you, though.”
She nods begrudgingly and pulls me down for a kiss. I don’t know a lot about relationships since I generally avoid them like they have claws, but I know enough that agreeing gets me a lot further than arguing. And right now, Iwantto be agreeable.
So when she runs upstairs, I follow because she’s laughing now. When I get to the door of my room, there’s a package wrapped in brown paper leaned against it. “What’s this?”
Sloan shrugs and smiles. “Maybe you should open it and see.”
