Page 120 of Stick Side
“Shoot it,” Dodds yelled when there were only a handful of seconds left on the clock.
Doing as instructed, Phillips took a shot on goal. Despite the poor angle, he managed to execute a stunning wrister. Unfortunately, it was met by an even more stunning glove-side save by Avalanche goalie Sean Timmins. That was why Timmins had been a first-round draft pick. He had one of the fastest gloves in the league.
Timmins’ glove had barely closed around the puck when the horn went off, signaling the end of the game.
The bench erupted in victorious shouts and cheers around Ben. Winning never got old, but Ben liked to think that age had at least made them all better sports about it.
The team filed off the bench and out onto the ice to shake hands with the other team.
“That was some hit,” Minkowski snickered when he and Ben lined up to shake hands.
Ben eyed him critically. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Hockey was a physical sport, and it was just the nature of the game that players got hurt sometimes. Still, it hadn’t been his intention to harm Minkowski when he’d slammed him into the boards.
Minkowski dropped his accusatory facade. “Nah, man,” he assured. “It mainly just smarts because I didn’t expect a hit like that from you. It took me by surprise.” He twisted his lips. “After years in the NHL, I should know better. Always expect the unexpected, you know?”
Ben nodded, a sporting but genuine smile on his lips. Always expect the unexpected indeed. In hockey and in life.
“Good game,” Minkowski added as they both moved up their respective lines.
After all the post-game niceties were taken care of, Ben followed his teammates through the tunnel and into the locker room. The overall mood was high following their win.
Ben made his way over to his locker and started to pull off his gear. Once done, he pulled his cellphone out of his bag. He unlocked his home screen and opened his texting app. He had messages from Tali, his parents, and his agent, but nothing from Melody.
Ben heaved a massive sigh of frustration. The media circus surrounding the Cynthia Hargraves ordeal had shifted something in their relationship. And not for the better. Melody’s behavior made that plain. He just wished he knew what, why, and perhaps most importantly, how to fix it.
“Logan!” Coach Dodds shouted from the office he’d commandeered from the opposing team.
A feeling of dread overtook him as a sense of foreboding déjà vu filled him. Ben was dripping with sweat and eager to shower, but he did no more than securely knot a towel around his waist before responding to Dodds’ summons.
For the second time this week, Ben walked into an office to find both Coach Dodds and Coach McGuire waiting on him. Ben didn’t like the drawn look on Coach McGuire’s face.
“I’ll leave you to deal with this one,” Dodds spoke to Coach McGuire before quitting the room.
Well, that was cryptic.
Something unpleasant churned in Ben’s gut. He didn’t know what Coach McGuire was going to say, but he felt certain he wasn’t going to like it.
“Take a seat, Logan,” Coach McGuire said in a tone that Ben thought held notes of tired resignation.
“Is this where you chew my ass out for the shitty way I’ve been playing recently?” Ben was usually far better at guarding his words and minding his manners, but he just didn’t have it in him at the moment.
Coach McGuire ignored the question, asking instead, “Is everything all right?”
Ben had more than reached his bullshit quota over the past few days of dealing with his lawyer, agent, and PR team to get the myriad media outlets circulating his story to print retractions and to get the woman who had accused him of fathering her child to issue a formal apology. He felt drained and too tired to beat around the bush, so he opted for directness. “I think we both know that it isn’t.” Ben gave his coach an explicit look. “And I think we both know why.”
Coach McGuire flinched. “You’ve seen the pictures then?”
Ben’s blood ran cold. “What pictures?” he said slowly. There was no doubt that Ben had seen the original photograph, so these must be new pictures.
Coach McGuire appeared regretful as he reached for his cellphone and then slid it over to Ben.
A part of Ben was afraid to look down, but he soldiered on. More often than not, the only way out was through.
Ben swore when he took in the contents on the screen. “You have got to be kidding me.”
The headline of the article Coach McGuire had pulled up for him to read was a blow to his already bruised soul.
“Did False Accusations Torpedo Benjamin Logan’s Real Relationship?”
