“Are you mad?” he asks sorrowfully.
“Am I mad? Yes. But not at you.”
I’m mad at that Seth kid. I’m mad at his clueless mom, who lets him get away with crap. I’m mad at the school. But mostly, I’m mad at Dad. As much as I try, I can’t step into that role for Cyrus. His mom is too proud and a little distant, and only recently let me spend more time with him. I’ve offered countless times to help financially, but she shuts me out.
“Your mom might be pissed, though. She’ll probably blame it on me for being a bad influence or something.” I take a sip from my cup. It’s already cold.
“Because you’re a preening puck?”
I almost choke on my coffee. “WHATdid you just say?”
“I read about it on a website. Mom didn’t stop me.”
“What are you doing on that side of the internet?” He had to have gotten that from that terrible blog. “You should be watching Pokemon or playing Minecraft or something. Not reading some crap gossip online.”
“I googled you.”
“You don’t need to google me. I’m right here. You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet, anyway.”
Unfortunately, I’m not Shannon’s favorite person, simply because, to her, I represent Dad’s other life. And if she’s reading fake news about me over Cyrus’s shoulder, it’s just going to strain our relationship further.
“I only get to see you once or twice a week. Take me to one of your games, at least.”
He’s got a point. I’m either on the road or hyper-focused on the home games when I’m here. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for family. One of the many reasons I don’t date.
“If your mom says it’s okay, I’ll get you and your friends box seats.”
He deflates a little. “I don’t have any friends.”
I hate this for him. All my money, fame, influence. And my little brother doesn’t have anyone to invite to a game. It sucks that I can’t do anything about it.
“Hey, I got the new Mario vs Donkey Kong. If you’re extra nice, I’ll let you win. Once.”
It will be a distraction for him, at least until I have to take him home tonight, where I’ll attempt to talk to Shannon.
“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll letyouwin once,” he teases.
“Not likely, little man. Just stay off the internet, okay?”
And if I ever find out who runs the Blades After Dark blog, I’ll make them wish they never learned to write.
4
OWEN
It’s the first home game in a week and we’re ready to kick some Chicago butt. The visiting team is one of our toughest rivals, but Coach Knight took us through some sly strategies during today’s video briefing. With the energy of the crowd of Toronto fans, Chicago doesn’t stand a chance. Although we still need to be on our best game tonight. No distractions.
Sawyer hit all the drills today and seems to be in good form. Hendrix has his head in the right place, too. Things are looking good.
We’re in the dressing room, about to change into our gear, when I slip my phone out of my suit pocket to tuck it away for the night. But something tugs in me, and I find myself looking up thatBlades After Darkblog. It’s been weighing on me ever since I found out Cyrus had been reading it. I’ve felt itchy about it since last week. Not to mention how Shannon didn’t even let me walk him into her house when I dropped him off that day. She’d said the school called her and that she’d work with them on the problemwithoutmy help.
As if Cyrus is a problem at all.
Clicking through to the blog, I find the latest post with more fake gossip. There are pictures of Sawyer with two womenon either arm. He’s at The Crowned Loon, the Team’s usual watering hole, where we go to blow off some steam. Die-hard fans like to find us there after big wins, but during the season, we don’t drink or stay late. It’s not surprising to see some of the photos were taken there. But then I scroll to see a picture of me on the ice. Alone. It had to be taken during one of my morning skates. During the time I need to help me focus the rest of the day. Early morning, when the doors arenotopen to the public.
TheBlades After Darkblogger works at the arena.
I rack my brain to remember all the people who work here. Other team members, management, security, cleaning staff….