“I’m not saying every defenseman can be a good forward,” she said louder. “Just look at the stats,” she insisted. “Look at them.”
Nobody looked at them. Instead, the men exchanged awkward glances.
Penny knew stats didn’t lie! They didn’t judge. Stats were controlled and consistent. She couldn’t make a fool of herself with numbers…or so she believed.
“Penelope, it’s nice that you tried a new approach, but this is bullshit,” Thomas Lyle said, his voice so terribly patient and kind that Penny suddenly felt like a kindergartener. Oh, but wait, they probably would have taken amalekindergartener more seriously!
God, this was so frustrating.
“It’s not bullshit to at least consider it — just look at the fucking stats!” Her voice grew louder with each word, but she didn’t care. If volume was the language men understood, she would use it. “He has the most impressive goal stats of any defenseman in twenty years! If I were his coach…”
“But you’re not his coach, I am!” Coach Gray snapped. “It’s not your job to worry about the team lineup.”
She pressed her lips together. “No, but my job is to decide which players we need and which we don’t. My job is to track our finances. And buying a new striker would be a lot more expensive than letting Leon play forward and looking for a defenseman instead!”
“That’s ridiculous!” the coach insisted.
“It may not be standard practice, but if you always continue doing the same thing, how are you going to get better?” she replied caustically.
“Penny,” Gareth said quietly but with so much authority in his voice that the other two, whose mouths were already open, immediately sat back. “Could you maybe go find Jack West? He played with Anderson, and he might be able to tell us a little more about him.”
She looked at him, perplexed. “What?”
“You heard me. We could use his input.”
“But…”
“Penny, please.”
She gritted her teeth and glared at him. What the hell was he doing? If she left, she couldn’t get her point across. If she left, no one was going to look at the stupid paper on the desk and see what she saw!
“That’s a good idea,” Thomas Lyle chimed in.
“I think Jack is training. He’s either in the gym or the pool,” Gray added.
Great. Everyone seemed to agree that she should go and playsearch party.
“Fine,” she said abruptly, before adding quietly, barely audibly to her brother, “Thanks for having my back.”
“I’m saving your neck,” he replied calmly, his eyes narrowed. “Before they both run straight to Dad and say you’re a shitty choice.”
“Well, thanks for that,” she replied coolly before abruptly rising and stomping toward the door.
God, this world hadn’t changed. The world of rich, arrogant men had changed even less than the rest, and that was so incredibly frustrating. A big, angry, fiery ball roiled in her stomach. Would it have been too much to ask that they at leasttry it out –over the course of one practice, say? To ask Leon Alvarez what he thought? To have a tryout?
She was so tired of it. Tired of having to bust through every wall with her head while the men just opened a door.
And where the hell was Jack West?
Chapter Fourteen
Jack hadn’t recognized him.
He had seen his father only a few weeks ago in New York, but his face had become even gaunter, his skin flabbier, and his mind seemed more confused.
As the chlorine burned Jack’s eyes, as his muscles fought the resistance of the water, he wondered if he should have found him sooner.
He could have overcome his fear and sought him out years ago, when he was still healthy, before it was too late to talk. He had missed the moment. He’d never thought this was something that would bother him. He’d never thought a day would come in his life when he wished he had talked to his father sooner.
