I don’t get up. I stare at the chair he just vacated, reminiscent of the way I stared at it a beat too long another time.
“And, King?”
I turn toward Silas, who is standing in the doorway.
“You’ve never let any of us down.”
“You wanted to see me, Coach?”
“Sit down.” He nods to the chair across from him.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I was out of line, and I promise it won't happen again, but I’m also prepared for whatever punishment you have for me.”
Coach Alvarez sets down the file he was holding and looks at me with a furrowed brow that reminds me a little too much of the look his daughter loves to give me.
“I didn’t call you here to punish you, kid. I called you here to check in on you.”
I shouldn’t be surprised at this point, the Alvarez family has never cared about what I can do for them or who I am. They’ve always made me feel like I was just one of them.Someone for them to care about and someone who cares about them.
“Ugh.” I sigh, clasping my hands and dropping my elbows to my thighs. “The truth is, I’m fucking drowning.” I keep my eyes on the spot between my shoes because, one—I just said ‘fuck’ in front of my coach, and two—I don’t think Savannah ever got around to telling him about us. Who knows, maybe in the last forty-eight hours that she’s been ignoring me, she found time to bring it up, but I don’t believe she would do that. The only thing I can do now is tell him about my other problems.
“I might…” I rub my clammy palms over my pants and blow out a breath. “My dad, he—he believes he knows what’s best for me, and I’ve always thought he was right. This year, whether it's because of last year's draft, getting kicked out of practice, or mypersonal relationships.” I steal a glance at him, but his expression reveals nothing. “Whatever it is, there’s been a change, and while I love and respect him, I can’t just blindly follow what he wants anymore. I don’t know what that means for me going forward, but I do know that I’m still committed to you, this team, and my goals both on and off the ice.”
Coach steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, hanging onto my every word and he nods ever so slightly.
“You know, Noah, my wife always used to say, ‘There’s always going to be some shit; it’s how you deal with that shit that defines you—you as the person and you as the player.”
I sit back in the chair, letting those familiar words wash over me again, just like they did that night Savannah shared them with me. I don’t want to be a personora player who is defined by my dad. If my ‘shit’ is him wanting to cut me off, so be it. None of it matters without her, without the woman whowantsto be there for me when I don't know how to be there for myself. The woman who makes my hardest days easier just by being in her presence. The one who doesn’topen up or share much with anyone, but as soon as she's in my arms and her lips are on mine, she bares her soul to me.
“That being said, I’ll always do everything I can to help you out, and not just because you’re the greatest talent I’ve had the pleasure of coaching.”
I'm trying to gauge whether he knows. We study each other, my eyes narrowing. His eyes shine back at me, trying to convey, ‘I’m not saying shit.’
I smile for the first time in days and leave his office, hell-bent on getting my girl back.
39
savannah
I’m doingthat thing where I look like a zombie staring off into space. If I sit with my feelings, I’m going to lose my fucking mind. So instead, I choose to compartmentalize everything Noah Kingston-related, pack it up in a little box, and give it a swift dropkick into the ocean.
“Everything alright in here?”
Chloe met me in the parking lot that I wound up in, three blocks from the restaurant, and after I recounted the night—starting with my front-row seat to the Joshua Kingston beat down and ending with Noah agreeing to dump me—I finally calmed down enough to drive us home. Yesterday, I alternated between molding the mattress to my body and crying in the shower until the water ran cold. It’s no wonder why my best friend is handing me a coffee like she’s here for a wellness check.
“It will be,” I force myself to answer.
She nods her head, pulls a blanket over her bare legs, and takes a sip from her mug. “Have you heard from him?”
Where’d you go?
I’m so sorry about my dad, please answerme.
Savannah.
I’m freaking out, can you please answer your phone?
I felt like shit adding to his stress. I know he can’t afford to add any more worries to his plate right now. All I’ve wanted is for him to let me be someone he can lean on. Someone he can trust enough to open up to. But when it comes down to it, at the end of day, the thing that matters most to him, the only thing he’ll ever truly lean on, is hockey.
