Page 65 of The Blame Game

“Aiming for GM someday, right?” Dom asked. He’d heard that rumor floating around a few times.

“For a start. But we’ll see. Whatever I do, I intend to change hockey culture.”

The flex of Murphy’s jaw and the steely note in his voice made Dom’s eyebrows rise at his passion for the subject.

“I think you and La Bouche did quite a bit already,” Dom pointed out.

Noah Boucher’s coming out had broken the NHL open and Zane Murphy’s relationship with his teammate, Ryan Hartinger, had set the tone for what was to come in the league.

“We did,” Murphy said. “But it’s not enough.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Increasing the presence of LGBTQ+, minority, and women’s voices in head offices, on benches, and on rosters.”

Dom whistled under his breath. “You don’t aim small.”

“You don’t win the Stanley Cup by aiming for the Prince of Wales trophy,” Murphy pointed out.

Dom nodded. “Fair enough.” It was only a step along the way.

“What about you? This is your final season, right? Any plans for retirement?”

Dom’s stomach twisted at the question. “No plans,” he said. “I’m not sure what I want to do.”

“Do you think you’ll stay in Toronto?”

Dom hesitated. Truthfully, he’d never thought about it. Thinking about his future after hockey made it feel too real. “Probably,” he said.

He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. He thought of moving, ending things with Shea, and he felt dread crawl into the pit of his stomach, a sudden, heavy weight.

“Any thoughts of head office positions?” Murphy asked.

“Ahh, no,” Dom said. “I’d never …”

He let the words sink in. “Why? You think I should?” he asked, glancing over at Murphy. Was Murphy head-hunting him for a position in Evanston or was this something else?

“Everyone in the league speaks highly of your hockey knowledge and your leadership in Toronto’s locker room.”

“I’ve only been trying to keep the younger players out of trouble,” he protested.

He dodged around a couple of kids running by, a sudden tingling sensation streaking down the side of his leg. He bit his tongue to keep from swearing.

“Hey, that’s important.” Zane huffed out a laugh. “We all know what a shitshow my locker room was at the end there.”

Dom winced.

In Murphy’s final season, a portion of the team and Wade Cannon—the agent Dustin and Murphy shared—had exposed Evanston player Jack Malone as an abuser. He’d been beating his wife and it also came out that he’d harassed various women within the organization, all of it covered up by a corrupt owner and GM.

Thankfully, things in Evanston were running more smoothly with new leadership. The owners of Prescott Helmets had bought the team, but it had still been quite the nightmare for the organization and the league for a while.

“Malone is in prison now though, right?” Dom asked.

“Yes. And hopefully he’ll stay there for a damn long time.”

“What a piece of shit he turned out to be,” Dom said quietly.

“Yes.” Murphy nodded. “I’m not sure I’ll ever quite forgive myself for not realizing what was happening right under my nose.”

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