Page 110 of The Rebound Plan

I should also check on Max.

Need. Should.

A kernel of a podcast idea comes to me. I don't know when I'm gonna be willing to share it with the world, but just in case it ever becomes something, I want to document this time in my life.

I sink down to the hotel room floor and turn on the voice recorder on my phone. "My marriage ended yesterday. I can't tell anyone because my friends are fellow wives and girlfriends of hockey players. That's the life that I have lived for the last eight years. Where he goes, I go. Where he plays, I build us a life. In his circles, I find friends, and we knit together into supportive, wonderful networks—but the second he’s traded, I have to do it all over again. Today, I’m actually in the city where he used to play, and as I record this, I realize it didn’t even occur to me to reach out to those WAGs I was once tight with here. But to explain what I’m going through right now would mean unpacking a lot of the lies I used to live.”

That’s hard to say. I let the recorder keep running, but I have to pause for a minute to compose myself. My voice grates a bit when I resume.

“One day, they might hear this and wonder why I didn't tell them what I was going through, and I honestly hope that they never understand, because I truly believe that the only person who can understand what I feel right now is an ex-WAG. And right now, I feel very alone, but I know that I'm not. I know that this life chews people up and spits them out."

I sigh, audibly, and I don't know if my phone picked that up, but if it did, I would love to have it worked into the opening credits of theEx-WAG Club.

“There are lessons to be learned when you have investedyourentire life insomeone else'sentire life. And those lessons probably aren't just for women who marry professional athletes, but also for anyone for whom marriage is a trap."

Another audible sigh. I fist my hand and push it into my temple. Fuck.

"I have so much to say, and right now I have nobody to say it to, but in the future, if you're hearing this, it's because I realized that therewerepeople who I could say this to, and that's you. Thank you for making me feel a little less alone in this very lonely moment.”

I stop recording and listen back to it. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

And then I think about the fact that Max hasn’t texted me. Why do I feel like I should make sure he’s okay, when the phone works in both directions?

Only one person reached out to apologize for what happened this morning. He’s the only person I need to check on right now.

Shannon: I heard there was a fight. Are you okay?

CHAPTER 42

RUSS

I go to shift the ice pack off my right hand so I can text Shannon back, but before I can, Dorrian’s door swings open.

Stony-faced, he gestures for me to come inside without saying a word.

He’s not alone, either. Coach is sitting in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. The assistant general manager in charge of contracts is in the other chair, leaving nowhere for me but to stand.

Which is fine, it hurts too fucking much if I bend at the waist.

Maybe if this meeting was as he first ordered it, ten minutes after the first altercation, it would have just been the two of us. But I escalated the situation pretty badly, and both Tilman and I had to go to medical. He’s still there. More than an hour has passed since Dorrian yelled at me, and now I can see he’s moved on to cold indifference.

The life of a journeyman player.

I’m not surprised at the first words out of his mouth. They could be worse, actually. “We’re putting you on waivers. If you aren’t claimed, you’ll report to our AHL affiliate in Niagara Falls tomorrow afternoon. To say that I am disappointed in your conduct today is an understatement. We had a debate about whether I should just put you on waivers for purposes of contract termination, Russ.”

That would be the worst. And it had been on the table. Fuck.

I nod. “I’ll report to Niagara Falls.”

“If you aren’t claimed,” he repeats, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, sir.”

“You put your position on this team in significant peril.”

“I regret that very much.”

His mouth tightens. Silence stretches. Then he exhales. “Could I have the room, please?”

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