I won’t lie: Iwasnervous then,because a part of me feared the front office still wanted to trade me. Sure, that was extremely likely—I was dating the team owner, after all, and Ottavia would probably flip out if Killer traded me without her approval—but hey, whoever said fears were rational?
“You wanted to see me, Coach?” I’d asked as I took my seat on the other side of his desk.
“I fuckinglovethe way you’re playing, kid,” he’d said, barely able to conceal the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “If you can keep up this level of play all year, I think you have a real shot at winning the Selke.”
The Frank J. Selke Trophy is awarded to the forward who demonstrates the most skill in the defensive aspect of the game. The list of players who have won it is a veritable who’s-who of the most solid and dependable players in the league.
Like Steve Easton, for example.
My dad.
Sure, I was off to a hot start, but I wasn’t Steve-Easton good.
“TheSelke?” I’d scoffed. “C’mon, Killer. Don’t be crazy.”
“I’m not bullshitting you, Dak,” he’d said. “You’re finally playing like I always wanted. You’re becoming the player Iknewyou had in you, all along.”
“Well, damn.” I’d been honored, almost embarrassed by his praise—and I hadn’t known what else to say. “Thanks, Killer.”
An awkward silence had lingered in the air.
“So uh … is that all you wanted to talk about?” I’d asked.
“No.” He’d let out an apprehensive sigh. “I called you in here to say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? For what?”
“Not sticking up for you after the video incident.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it.”
“No. Ishould’vestood up to Sal. Because I knew you could be this good. But—” He’d blown out a frustrated breath. “I couldn’t. I was afraid Sal would fire me if I didn’t do what he wanted.”
“That’s reasonable, Killer. He probably would’ve.”
“Maybe. But you’ve got balls, kid. Standing up to that man—and winning.” Killer’s jaw clenched. “I can’t believe we tried to give you away for a bag of pucks.”
“Good thing I had Jane by my side all along, eh?” I’d teased.
Killer pointed at the door, banishing me with a grin. “Get the fuck out of here.”
I stood with a laugh. “Aiight. I’m out.”
Just as I’d reached for the door, though, Killer stopped me. “Hey, Dak?”
“Yeah, Coach?”
“I’m just curious. How many times did your dad win the Selke?”
“Five times.”
“Five times. Jeez,” he’d said with a whistle.
“Of course, he also did it while winning seven scoring titles along the way, which makes the Selkes even more impressive.”
“Your old man was a hell of a player, wasn’t he?”
“He sure was,” I’d said.
