Page 4 of Boards & Betrayal

The cold air outside was a harsh contrast to the stuffy warmth of the studio. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. Tomorrow was another day—a new set of faces, another job to complete. But for now, all I wanted was to find some semblance of peace.

As I walked away from the studio, I let out a long sigh. My phone buzzed again in my pocket with another text from Kara.

Hey. Don't kill me, but I need a favor. A big one.

Chapter 2

Tom

Sitting in my office, I shuffled through the goddamn plans for next season. The boys did good, no doubt about it—championship fucking win and all that jazz. But here I was, hunched over papers and playbooks, feeling emptier than a goddamn paper bag.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the greys at my temples. Jesus, getting old was a bitch. The victories didn’t give me that high anymore, not like they used to. Used to be I’d ride the wave for weeks, maybe months. Now? A day or two and it was back to this bullshit.

“All right,” I muttered to myself, flipping another page. “Power plays need tweaking. Penalty kills need work, too.” The usual stuff.

It was like being stuck on a hamster wheel—round and round, with no end in sight. Damn team looked up to me like I was some sort of hockey messiah, but inside I felt like a hollowed-out shell. There was always another game, another challenge, another kid looking to make his mark while I stood on the sidelines with nothing but my past regrets keeping me company.

The phone rang, cutting through my thoughts. I snatched it off the desk without checking the caller ID.

“Morgan.”

“Mr. Morgan, this is Dave Patterson from the athletic department.” His voice was chipper, like he’d just won the lottery. “Got some exciting news for you.”

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“We’re thrilled to inform you that you’ll be receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award at the upcoming college men’s hockey awards ceremony. It’s a huge honor, Mr. Morgan. Your dedication and success with the team over the years haven’t gone unnoticed.”

I gripped the phone tighter. “Is that right?”

“Yes! It’s a testament to your hard work and impact on the sport. We’d love for you to attend the ceremony next week and accept the award in person.”

For a moment, I couldn’t find words. Should’ve felt proud, I guess. But all I felt was a hollow ache in my chest. What did this award even mean? A pat on the back for living in my brother’s shadow and pushing kids harder than I pushed myself?

“Sure,” I finally said, forcing the word out.

“Fantastic! We’ll send over all the details. Looking forward to seeing you there, Thomas.”

The call ended with more pleasantries from Dave, but I barely heard them. Dropping the phone onto my desk, I stared at it like it was some alien artifact.

A Lifetime Achievement Award. For what? Standing on the sidelines and barking orders? Didn’t feel like much of an achievement to me. The guys on the ice—they were the ones busting their asses day in and day out. Me? I just pointed them in the right direction.

The emptiness settled deeper as I sat there, seeping into my bones. Maybe it was because, deep down, I knew this wasn’twhere I wanted to be. Every accolade felt like a reminder of what could’ve been—what should’ve been if life hadn’t thrown me that curveball.

I stood up, pacing around my office like a caged animal. Anger bubbled up inside me, a familiar companion these days.

“Lifetime Achievement,” I muttered to myself, scoffing at the irony.

Didn’t matter how many awards they threw at me; none of them could fill that void. They couldn’t make up for lost dreams or missed opportunities.

Fuck it.

A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. “Come in,” I barked.

Saint peeked in. “Morgan, you have a visitor.”

Great. Just what I needed. “Who is it?”

“Who is it?”

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