Page 100 of Gross Misconduct

“I don’t want to coach,” I blurt out.

“Okay.”

“Okay? It’s not okay. There is a coach in the stands who could offer me an assistant coaching job. And that can lead to head coaching jobs, and it can get my shitty life back on track.”

“Is that what you want?”

I laugh at such a direct question. In all my wondering about my future and this opportunity, it’s something I’ve never been asked. Something I never asked of myself.

“Of course it’s what I want. It’s a path to a coaching career. There are tons of former hockey players who successfully segue into coaching.”

Griffin clamps his hands on my shoulders. “Is that what you want?”

He won’t let go until he gets a real answer out of me, not some pre-rehearsed drivel I’m spouting off. His eye is a truth serum I can’t fight.

“Why don’t I want it, Griffin?”

“You’ve been playing hockey your whole life. Maybe you want a change.”

“Whoa. Ihavebeen playing my whole life.” Ever since I mastered balancing on two feet, I’ve been playing hockey. Dad took me on the ice when I was four, and I basically haven’t gotten off. Imagine working in the same career since you were a toddler. No wonder why so many child stars go to rehab.

“I never went trick-or-treating as a kid. Each year, Halloween fell during a practice.”

Griffin tips his chin up to me. “Jack, you are young, you are smart, and you are hard working. You can do anything.”

“Anything?” I scoff.

“Yes, anything. You’re too young to settle for a job you don’t love. Sometimes, I wish I’d let myself explore my options after leaving hockey.”

“What if I suck at everything?”

“Only one way to find out.”

I give the coach one last look and then put him out of my mind. “I’m kinda scared. But a good scared.”

“You have an exciting future ahead of you, I promise you that. Everyone here is rooting for you, even the people rooting for the Comebacks.”

But there’s one person missing, and it digs into my heart.

“Griffin,” I begin, my voice cracking. “Will I ever talk to my dad again?”

I exhale a tight breath, hating myself for admitting this. He’s an asshole, but he stayed up with me all night when I got sick. He gave me pep talks when I had a bad game. He hugged me so close and told me we’d be okay after Mom left.

“I wish there was one game he could watch of mine where he wasn’t thinking about my career, where he could just watch me play.”

“Jack.” Griffin points to the double door entrance. Dad strolls in and walks up to the glass. A knot in my chest begins to loosen.

My throat goes dry, and I swear, if I weren’t surrounded by a full arena, I might start crying. Gone is Dad’s scowl, and in its place, for the first time, is a face that beams pure pride.

He looks at me and taps his heart twice.

How did he decide to come? I turn to Griffin. He winks at me.

“I love you, Ringer. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A bolt of confidence surges through my system. My muscles flex, ready to get back to action.

“Game on,” I say to Griffin. “Let’s show these fans a real hockey match.”

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