Page 113 of Stick Side
Melody:That sounds great. See you there.
Nolan’s response was a broadly smiling emoji.
Deciding she’d done what she could for now, Melody started to put her phone away. She was just about to drop it back into the cavernous bag before her phone chimed with a notification. Maybe Nolan had additional details to convey?
Pulling her phone back up to eye level, she clutched her chest and let out a startled gasp when she took in the news article filling her screen.
“Hometown Hero or Deadbeat Dad?
It looks like the Challengers’ newest acquisition, homegrown favorite Benjamin Logan, isn’t as wholesome as his previous reputation would have us believe.
According to Cynthia Hargraves (pictured below), who reports having met Mr. Logan soon after he relocated to Chicago at the beginning of the season, the newest member of Chicago’s great hockey team got her pregnant after an evening of “mutual enjoyment” and has been “ducking her calls” ever since.
According to Ms. Hargraves, she has reached out multiple times since her doctor confirmed the consequences of their interlude, but Mr. Logan has maintained radio silence, unwilling to so much as acknowledge her overtures to connect . . .”
Melody’s hand moved involuntarily to cup her abdomen. Her stomach roiled in a way that made her fear her breakfast might be threatening to make a reappearance.
Her eyes lost some of their focus, bypassing a few paragraphs to focus on the picture. And there it was. A picture of Ben with his arm draped around the shoulders of a young woman with a cute ash-blond bob and a star-struck smile. Ben’s head was tipped down, as though he was waiting for her to speak.
Melody started to shake. Had her father been right? Was her relationship doomed before it had even truly begun?
A feeling of numbness overtook her and her phone slipped out of her hand. Melody felt as much as heard the screen shatter when it connected with the patterned concrete flooring. The sound was a perfect echo of the fractured feeling currently taking place in her heart.
Chapter 57
Ben
Bentriedtocontrolhis frustration as he stripped out of his hockey gear. He fought the urge to throw his gloves down onto the bench in front of him. He succeeded, but still dropped them with more gusto than was his norm. Thankfully, he had himself mostly in check by the time he got his shoulder pads, elbow pads, and shin guards off and laid down for the equipment manager to collect and clean before the next game.
Over the years, Ben had grown accustomed to having laser-like focus while at the rink. No matter what was happening in his personal life, the minute he skated onto the ice, everything else faded into the periphery. Not so tonight.
Despite his best efforts, he’d been unable to banish the sense of foreboding he’d gotten during his conversation with Cassidy earlier in the day. It hadn’t helped that Melody hadn’t returned a single one of his texts. There had been hours between the end of practice and the start of the game, but there had been nothing from her. Radio silence.
He had a few missed calls and messages, including a few from his agent, but he couldn’t bring himself to check them. He wasn’t in the right headspace to discuss endorsement deals.
Something was wrong with Melody. He could feel it. He just didn’t know what.
Ben let out a self-deprecating groan as he reviewed the game tape in his mind’s eye. He hadn’t played badly per se, but he hadn’t played well, either. He’d overshot and missed a few passes that he never would have under normal circumstances.
Every player had off days, but what a day to have let the quality of his game slide. Everyone would now be wondering—and rightly so—whether his coaches had made a mistake by moving him up to the first line. Judging by today’s game alone, it had been a very poor decision. Ben cringed, imagining what the media would have to say on the matter.
A team was made up of more than one player, but his substandard play was enough to leave him feeling at least partly responsible for their 2–1 loss to the Devils. He was confident enough in his own abilities to say that, had he been on his game, they would have probably won. Instead, he’d choked and taken his team down with him.
“Logan, get your ass in here,” Coach Dodds bellowed from his office doorway.
Ben shared a commiserating look with Richie—who knew firsthand how unpleasant it was to face Dodds’ displeasure—before making his way over to the office. He didn’t waste time by throwing on any extra clothing since nudity—or partial nudity, in his case—was just part of the life of a professional athlete.
Ben might not be eager to hear what his coach had to say, but he didn’t drag his feet. No one wanted to be on the bad side of a tyrant like Dodds, but Ben knew he had some explaining to do after his poor performance tonight. There was no reason to delay the inevitable.
“Nice of you to join us, Logan,” Dodds sneered when Ben walked through the doorway and into his office.
Ben felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. He knew he hadn’t played his best, but he didn’t think he’d played so poorly that he warranted such venom. It also hadn’t taken him nearly as long to cross the locker room as Dodds’ tone implied.
Ben glanced at Coach McGuire. He was further thrown by the cool look in the assistant coach’s usually friendly eyes.
“Would you care to tell us what the ever-loving hell is going on with you?” Dodds seethed.
Ben hesitated briefly before answering. Surely, he hadn’t played so badly that both of his coaches were subjecting him to such a freeze-out.
