“It’s not just a fucking game!” he roared. “It’s my life!”
My eyes widened, and for the first time, I realized he’d never made peace with his career ending. He couldn’t find a way to separate himself from the game; it had been his identity for so long that he didn’t know how to exist without it. That was a problem because it was always going to end someday—maybe just not as abruptly as his had—and he needed to find a way to cope with the fact that there was a life beyond hockey. He needed torealize he held more value as a person outside of the sport that had become such a huge part of his life.
He’d masked it so well by vowing that he wanted to create a future with me. But I could see now that he was using me to fill the gaping hole that hockey had left behind. I deserved more than that; I deserved to come first, and ironically, he was the one who had taught me that.
Sadly, I replied, “Glad to know where your priorities lie.”
Maddox’s body sagged, visibly deflating as the fight seeped out of him. Running a hand over his jaw, he said, “Bristol, come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I shrugged. “I think you did.”
Turning on my heel, I began to walk away when a hand on my elbow stopped me. “Bristol, please.”
Peeking back at him was a mistake. The devastation written on his face threatened to shatter my heart, but I’d come to Indy to put myself first, and that’s what I had to do now.
Inhaling deeply, I said, “I think you should see a grief counselor.”
Maddox’s dark eyebrows drew down. “Why? Nobody died.”
He still didn’t get it, so I decided to lay it out for him. “Your career did, and you clearly haven’t come to terms with that loss yet. Until you do, I don’t know how we can move forward. You’re stuck in the past, Maddox. Come find me when you’re ready to look forward to the future.” He opened his mouth to argue that he was, but I spoke before he could. “And not with me as a consolation for what you’ve lost.”
Tugging my elbow from his grasp, he let me go, and I walked away, uncertain if we would make it past this hurdle.
Chapter 34
Maddox
What did I justdo?
I’d let my temper get the best of me and potentially ruin the best thing to ever happen in my life. And for what? Because I couldn’t separate myself from the game?
I was an idiot, and Bristol had called me out on it.
But she wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t let go of my career. And it was holding me back. Keeping me from giving myself to her fully.
Every cell screamed at me to run after her, but I knew she’d push me away, and rightfully so. I couldn’t snap my fingers and erase the hold hockey had on me. I was a competitor and always would be. I craved the high of winning so badly that it cut me deeply when we lost. I saw the team’s failures as my own.
Watching her walk away was the first time I realized something mattered more. Hockey might’ve been my first love, but Bristol was my forever. I was sure of it. She would still be there when the game I loved became a distant memory.
I had to fix this. But I wasn’t quite sure how.
You embarrassed her in front of her colleagues, so it’s only fitting they hear your apology.
At the end of the day, Bristol had only been doing her job. Maybe if I hadn’t been so stubborn, thinking I knew this team better than anyone else, I might’ve listened when she told me that moving around Ford was the key shift to setting the ship to rights.
Adapt or die. That was the bottom line. The game was constantly changing and evolving, and if I didn’t adjust to change with it, the Speed were dead in the water. What worked in the past wasn’t guaranteed to continue working in the future, and Bristol had seen that with the Banks and Booker D pairing.
It was time to take a step back and recognize that nostalgia and the “good old days” were holding me hostage.
Stepping up to the podium, I brushed sweaty palms against my track pants. The room had descended into silence the moment I entered, with multiple glares of disdain directed my way. They all knew I’d been an ass last night, and I wasn’t sure what I was about to do would be enough to salvage any semblance of respect they might’ve held for me prior to my outburst.
The only person I was silently begging to look at me kept her eyes cast down, hands twisting in her lap. Alyssa reached over to give her a reassuring squeeze, and I was glad Bristol had made enough friends amongst her peers that they had her back over mine. Not that I thought anyone should have taken my side; I’d been firmly in the wrong.
Clearing my throat, I drew the attention of the room. “Let me start by saying I will not be taking questions today.” A murmur went through the crowd as that was highly irregular. “Instead, I have prepared a statement.”
I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket before unfolding it and smoothing the creases as I laid it across the podium. It was all for show; the words were burned into my memory, having stared at them for hours throughout the night.
“First, I would like to issue a public apology to Miss Cooper for my behavior after last night’s game.” A flash of copper caught the corner of my vision, and I noticed her eyes trained on me, a mixture of shock and sadness in their blue depths. I held her stare as I continued, “The transition from player to coach has been difficult. My retirement was forced upon me due to circumstance rather than by choice, and I’ve struggled to come to terms with that. My frustration over the loss and my inability to cope with the fact that I can no longer make a direct impact on the ice was misdirected at Miss Cooper. I was firmly in the wrong for lashing out at her, and I can only hope she will accept that I deeply regret my actions.”
