Page 78 of Unlovable Player

“I want to.”

I know I should try to convince her to put her feet up instead of driving five hours in an unreliable car with no heating in the middle of winter, but fuck, I need some support right now.

“I can get you a ticket, no problem.”

“Can’t wait!”

“Just leave your Devil’s jersey at home.”

She laughs. “I’ll pull your Boston one out.”

My gut twists at how close the deadline is to me being a free agent.

“Hey, that was a joke, your jersey’s safe in your closet where you left it.”

“I know, sorry, I just zoned out, obviously you can wear it, not like you’re gonna stretch it out.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine Ma, don’t worry, I’ll see you Saturday.”

We playProvidence at their arena on Friday. Every practise after Monday as awkward as the first since that party. But I find a way to work around it and at least Coach isn’t calling me into his office again to ask what’s wrong.

We manage to scrape a 2-2 draw in Providence. Gray scoring one and assisting me in the equalizer one minute into extra time.

The bus journey home is quiet and I’m under no illusion it’s just because of the draw.

Coach pulls me before we all leave to go home.

“I’m worried about you Donoghue,” he says.

“You don’t need to be Coach.”

“You don’t seem like yourself, your communication with Huntington’s off, has something happened between you two?”

My face is on fire and I look away. “No Coach.”

“Okay. Are you taking care of yourself? Sleeping? Keeping in contact with family?”

“Yeah, actually, my ma’s coming to the game tomorrow night.”

Coach’s eyes light up. “Oh, she is? That’s great. I can’t stress how important support is in this game.”

I think about Seb’s family. How surprised he seems when someone praises him.

“Oh by the way,” Coach opens one of the drawers behind his desk, unable to hide a smile. “This came for you this morning.”

He slides a heavy-looking envelope across the desk to me.

“What is it?”

“Open it,” he says.

“You know what it is?”

“I got an email, I can just tell you, but you should open the letter and read it yourself.”

I can tell he wants me to open it in front of him, so I do. Trying not to get my hopes up about what might be inside. They don’t sign you to an NHL team in a letter like a fucking college application.

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