“Maybe that’s something you should consult with your boyfriend on? Just an idea. And anyway, you might also be going to D.C.”
“That’s a very big reach,” I remind her.
“Is not,” she waves me off. “They’d be lucking fucky to get you.”
“Lucking fucky?” I laugh. “Here, have another drink.” I pour more bourbon into a glass and hand it to her. And maybe a little sloshes onto the coffee table. Big deal. That’s an issue for Tomorrow Ian.
“Did you hear back from Pheebs?” I ask shamelessly.
“You’re pathetic,” she admonishes, checking her texts. “Oh, shit…”
“What? What’s wrong? Is he okay?” My heart is lodged in my throat as I await her answer.
“Physically, yeah? But otherwise? He’s a mess. Phoebe says his dad went apeshit. Looks like your boy is going to be looking for scholarships and a place to live next year. Damn. That sucks.”
And that's what does it. As bad as I feel, as much as I miss him, this is the proof I needed. He’s losing everything—his future—because of me. I hate that I broke his heart—and mine—but it’s truly better this way. If we stayed together, there’d be nothing but more loss and sacrifice on the horizon for Booker. And that’s not what he deserves.
Chapter 24
Booker
It feels strange,walking into Coach King’s office for a meeting like this. I’ve been here hundreds of times. As alt-captain this past year, I’ve sat through many meetings in this room.
But none were about the uncertainty of my future.
Hudson King took over the Bainbridge Hockey Team the year before I arrived. He’d recently retired from the NHL after tearing his ACL, and after a year as an assistant coach in Texas, he took the job here in Maryland as head coach of the Wolves. In four short years, he’s turned the team around. The fact that we made it to the Frozen Four this year is a testament to his coaching prowess. And right now, I need that same tenacity in my corner.
“Hey, Coach,” I say, and he looks up, his face filled with concern when he sees me.
“Booker, I’m glad you’re here. You doing ok?”
“No, actually. It’s been a really, really crappy week.”
He sighs and fiddles with the stacks of paper on his desk. “Friedline filled me in a little. For what it’s worth, breakups suck, and I’m sorry you’re going through that on top of the shit with your family. But you’re a hell of a hockey player, and I don’t say that lightly. I only had three years in the pros, but more than half the guys I played with couldn’t hold a candle to you. The fact you never entered the draft was a bit of a sore spot between your dad and me.”
“Seriously?” I ask. “It was part of a deal I made with my parents,” I explain.
“A fucking stupid deal,” Coach says. “And that’s not on you. Hell, you were what? Seventeen? Look, I can’t believe your dad kept you from something you wanted, something that absolutely would have been yours. But that’s all in the past now. What we need to focus on from here on out is your future. What’s that gonna look like, Book? Are you interested in playing one more year here? Or are you ready to declare free agency? Because I can guaran-damn-tee you that you’ll get picked up. You’ll spend a season or more in the AHL, but I’d stake cash money on the fact that you’re headed to the big leagues in the not-so-distant future.”
“I want that. I want to play hockey for a living, Coach. In an ideal world, I’d stay here and play out my senior year, but since my folks found out…well, my financial situation is up in the air right now. For that matter, so is my living situation.”
“Shit,” Coach mutters. “Friedline didn’t tell me that. Do you need a place to stay? Jules and I have space if you need it.”
“No, I’m good. Well, at least for the next couple of weeks. I just don't even know where to start, you know? This was never in the cards for me, so I don’t have the first clue about pursuing it.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Let me get Coach Powell in here and see what he thinks.” He shoots off a quick text before turning back to me. “Look, full disclosure? With you on the team next year? And Koz, so long as he gets his head out of his ass. Plus Norris? Damn, that kid’s good. Anyway, we could have a hell of a season, Book. But I’ve still got some contacts and it’s worth a look. I don’t want to hold you back, Booker. We’ll see what we can find out, ok? But hold off on making a decision until all the intel’s in, ok?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer, grateful for his help.
* * *
An hour later,I’m leaving the rink, my mind swimming with possibilities. It turns out that playing pro might not be a total pipedream. There’s still a lot to figure out, but it looks like I’ll have options.
I make my way toward the library, stopping at Drip for a smoothie. I promised myself I wouldn’t enter enemy territory, but I’m starving, and I need some fuel to get through the rest of the day. Besides, maybe I’ll get lucky, and Ian won’t be working.
I step inside and make my way to the counter. All good so far. Mel gives me an awkward smile, which I return before placing my order. My heart rate slows down as I step to the side and wait for my drink. I’m about two minutes from accomplishing the goal of not seeing my ex while at his place of business. I feel like I deserve a sticker. Or maybe even a cookie. But just as Delilah places my smoothie on the counter and calls, “Green Dream for Booker,” I spot Ian out of the corner of my eye. He’s walking this way, and I have a moment of hope that he won’t see me. I’m only six foot three. Maybe I’ll just blend in with the scenery.
No such luck.
