Page 127 of Just One Season
Coach lets out a short chuckle and then looks around the room as if to confirm we’re alone.
“Paul doesn’t like anyone.” Coach shrugs. “But he recognizes talent. He’s a businessman first and foremost, and he wants to see goals scored and games won. If you’re playing well and scoring like you are, I think it’s safe to sayyouare safe.”
I’m speechless.
“Safe as anyone is, really. You won’t get traded. I heard the rumors about Markus last year. But he wasn’t gelling with the team on the ice, and he was going to do better elsewhere.That’swhy he got traded.”
Oh.
“Thanks, Coach.” My shoulders slump, and I slowly blow the breath out of my lungs. I shut my eyes. All this worry. It’s always been on my mind. Every game, every practice, every time I thought of hockey this season, it’s always been in the context of getting traded and if I’d still be here in Fort Collins next season. If I’d be forced to live away from Ava.
I should feel incredible relief. And I do. But after the relief washes away, it’s deep regret.
I got in my own damn way with Lucy, burned by a lifetime of broken trust leading to my extreme caution with letting people get close. Who deserves my trust? I guess that’s the question.
I haven’t even been able to trust myself.
Atticus, of all people, telling me to speak what’s in my heart. That fucker is right, and that’s what was niggling me.
Lucy.
I knew she was different right away, and then she showed me that I was right to let her in. I was right to trust her.
But I didn’t trust myself.
I need to talk to her.
I head over to Bri’s house to see Ava before bedtime.
“Hey,” Bri says when I walk in the unlocked front door.
“Congratulations.” I embrace Bri. “You’re going to kick ass at your new job.”
“Thanks, Kellen.”
Bri’s been beaming all week since she found out she got that better university job she’d applied to months ago, and she signed the contract today. I’m happy for her, especially now that I know I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.
Ava runs into the foyer and hugs me, clutching a soccer player Barbie in one hand.
“Do they really not make a hockey Barbie?”
“I’ll put it on my Christmas list,” Ava says solemnly.
“Christmas was like three weeks ago, Aves.”
Ava shrugs, and I make a mental note to go online to search for a hockey player Barbie.
“Come have a snack with me, Daddy.” Ava pulls me to the kitchen.
“Okay.” I follow her to the table. Bri disappears upstairs, knowing from my texts that I want a minute with our daughter alone. “I have a question for you.”
Ava slides into the pantry, pulling out a pack of fruit snacks and a chocolate chip M&M cookie. I give her a side eye when she deposits the sugar-filled processed food on the table, so she skips over and grabs a small apple to add to her pile.
“Are you sure that’s enough snack?”
“Oh, can you get me chocolate milk too, Daddy?”
“No problem.” I chuckle and grab the chocolate milk from the fridge and a pink plastic cup from Bri’s cabinet.
