Page 100 of Goalie Interference

“When Cash started playing hockey, it was like a light went off. Hockey was fun, and challenging, and totally different than baseball. So I went all in, and I did pretty well.”

I nodded. I had no idea how he’d have done in baseball, but he’d been great at hockey.

“People stopped comparing me to Dad, but he didn’t. He just compared goals against with batting average or whatever. Henever let me forget that you beat me at the World Juniors, and in the Calder Cup.”

I held up a hand. “But you won the Cup that counts. And the Vezina.”

“Dad won the World Series and some Gold Gloves. He was still coming out on top. And then I got injured, and you even beat me there.”

“What the fuck?” We were competing with injuries?

He waved a hand. “You played again, I didn’t. It’s fucked, I know, but this is how he goes on. I started coaching, and that’s not something he’s ever done. It was something all mine—but I needed to succeed. And I let that distract me from how Lappy was struggling.”

So that was why Otts had been a little cavalier about the language issue and the stress. “I’m sure you tried. I did what I could but he wouldn’t let anyone help. Lappy has his own fucked-up issues messing him up.”

Otts snorted. “Don’t we all. I wanted to apologize. I should have listened to you, but this stupid competition thing my dad keeps pushing was affecting how I responded. I’m going to talk to someone about that. It’s part of the reason Maria dumped me. Part of why Sophie and I couldn’t make it.”

I wasn’t going to tell him I knew more about that than he’d like. “While we’re on the topic of Sophie…”

He stared at me, then rubbed his hands over his face. “You and Sophie. Right. Damn it all, my first thought was that my dad is going to use this. That is so fucked.”

“Sophie is amazing. And that’s got nothing to do with the fact that you were married to her.”

“I know, I know. I should say I’m happy for you or some shit, but the best I can do for now is try to keep it out of our professional relationship.” He dropped his hands. “Are you telling everyone?”

I shook my head. “It’s still new. But someone might see us, and I wanted you to know.”

“Which is better than what I did with Maria. It sucks to find out you’re the one who’s actually the asshole.”

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” I was looking forward to telling Sophie that Otts wasn’t going to be a problem.

“No, we’ve got some work to do with Lappy.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

That brought a smile to his face. “You can, I hope. We’re going to have him start on the farm team next season, and we want someone with him, someone to advise him and keep him from repeating what happened yesterday.”

I waited for the rest of it, but when nothing more came, I understood. “Me?”

“If you get an offer to play, I’ll understand if you take that instead. But we’d like you to help Lappy here. Now, I’m not trying to be the asshole, but I’m not sure you’ll get an offer. This job with the farm team would only be part-time, but leaving hockey is a difficult adjustment and it might help.”

There were a lot of thoughts shooting through my head. Not playing. Staying in Austin. Being near Sophie. What about the cottage? Beast—if I wasn’t playing, maybe I could work with some of the animals at the shelter. Could I actually be of any help to Lappy?

“You’ll need to think it over. Not sure if it’s something you want to talk about with Sophie, but that’s something I will stay clear of.” He pushed to his feet. “I hope you accept our offer for next season. Lappy might not have confided in you, but he says you’re someone he trusts. That you’re weird, but that’s a given for a goalie, right?”

I stood up and shook the hand he’d offered.

“I’ll think about it.”

Sophie

I’d left the guitar at Diane’s after my confrontation with Dad. I’d wanted to speak to Remy while I was still fired up. I was pleased that I’d been willing to push for what I wanted. Now, while he was back at the arena for a team practice and to find out his short-term future, I was at String Theory to work on mine.

Diane had set it in a stand. I picked it up and for a moment just held it. Felt the weight in my arms, admired the finish. Until I played it, it was still all potential. Once I tuned the last string, there was only one outcome. It looked good, the red striping of the sapele wood making it stand out. I turned on the tuner, ran through the first five strings, and then tuned the last one. Checked it a couple of times.

I looked at Diane.

She smiled. “Nervous?”

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