Page 7 of Boards & Betrayal

The idea of standing up there, accepting an award for a career that never quite reached its peak... It felt like a cruel joke. A reminder of everything I didn’t achieve.

But something inside me compelled me to go. Maybe it was stubborn pride or some misguided sense of duty. Or maybe it was the nagging thought that skipping out would be even worse—having to explain why I didn’t show up, dealing with the fallout from colleagues and players alike.

It felt like this ceremony was a crossroads—a moment where I’d have to face both my professional accomplishments and my personal failures. All those years of coaching, pushing players to be their best while knowing deep down that I never quite reached my own potential.

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. Christ, why did everything have to be so damn complicated? Part of me wanted to just disappear for a while—take off somewhere far away where no one knew who I was or cared about hockey.

But life didn’t work like that.

With a heavy sigh, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling again. Maybe this ceremony could be more than just another hollow accolade. Maybe it could be a chance to confront some of those ghosts that had been haunting me for so long.

Or maybe it would just be another night of bullshit and empty congratulations.

I closed the email and shut off the computer screen, trying to push all these thoughts out of my head.

One thing was for sure—I wasn’t looking forward to this goddamn ceremony.

Chapter 3

Ally

The hum of River Styx enveloped Kara and me, a mix of low conversations and the clinking of coffee cups. The cafe was cozy, almost too familiar, with its mismatched furniture and the scent of freshly ground beans hanging in the air. Students lounged on faded couches, their laptops open, while a barista in a beanie pulled shots of espresso behind the counter.

I sat across from Kara, pushing a salad around my plate. My stomach twisted with anxiety, making food unappealing. Kara's eyes sparkled with excitement as she chattered about the upcoming awards ceremony.

"Can you believe it? Morgan's going to be there! I honestly thought he was going to say no. You know how he is. It's such a big deal," she said, her voice animated.

I nodded absently, trying to focus on her words but feeling the dread creeping in. I knew what was coming.

"And you know," she continued, leaning forward conspiratorially, "our photographer bailed last minute."

I felt my chest tighten. I should've known this was where the conversation was headed.

"I was thinking," Kara said, her eyes locking onto mine with that persuasive glint I knew too well. "You could fill in. You're amazing with a camera, and it's a perfect opportunity."

I bit my lip, the taste of anxiety bitter on my tongue. "Kara..."

"Come on, Ally," she urged. "It’s just one night. You can handle it."

Her words felt like needles pricking at old wounds. I glanced around the café, seeking distraction from the worn posters on the walls and the comforting chaos of student life.

My heart sank, the familiar weight of dread settling in my chest. I shook my head, trying to ward off the panic clawing at my insides.

"I can’t, Kara. I’m sorry, I just… can’t," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

I looked down at my salad, feeling the tightness in my throat. The thought of seeing him again—of seeing Thomas—sent a shiver through me. It had been months since that night at the Masquerade, and every memory of it was etched painfully in my mind. The idea of facing him again felt like ripping open wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal.

"Kara, you don’t understand," I managed to say, my voice breaking. "It’s not just about the photography."

Kara leaned forward, her expression softening. "I know why you don’t want to do it. It’s because of what happened at the Masquerade, right?"

Her words hung in the air, and I felt my chest tighten further. Kara knew bits and pieces of that night, but not the full extent. Not all those parts I kept locked away, buried deep where no one could see.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "It's more than that," I whispered, barely able to meet her eyes.

Kara reached across the table and placed her hand over mine, her touch warm and reassuring. "Ally, you don't have to do this alone. Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

Her sincerity pierced through my defenses. I felt a lump form in my throat as I wrestled with the urge to finally let some of the pain out.

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