Page 41 of Puck Lust

“Would you still support me, Dad? If you knew the truth about me?”

The question dances on the tip of my tongue, but I keep my lips pressed tight to keep the words from hitting air.

I feel like I’ve always been trying to win his acceptance as a hockey player. How would he feel if he knew I was borderline obsessed with another man? So I don’t give him a chance to answer that loaded question.

“Listen, Dad, I’ve got to go. The guys are meeting downstairs soon to get to the arena.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “It was great spending time with you last night, son. Good luck today. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I click to end the call.

Because my truth would crush my future.

A few minutes pass and a text pings my phone from Coach Enver about a meeting spot.

I stick my AirPods into my ears and scroll to my Frank Sinatra playlist.

Come Fly With Me,my favorite Frank Sinatra song, fills my ears as I rush to change and throw all of my crap into my duffel bag. It’s one of my pre-game rituals, listening to Frank. The music helps me get my head right before games and right now, my head is twisted and being tugged in a million different directions, so I need all the help I can get.

Once I get downstairs, I search the vestibule where the team gathers. There’s no sign of Jack, but there are cops swarming the door where we’re about to exit and get onto the buses that will take us to the arena.

I crane my neck to look for Tate and Masterson when someone grabs my suit jacket sleeve. I jerk my head around, my heart sinking when I see it’s not Jack, but Coach Enver.

He pulls me aside so we’re out of earshot of the rest of the guys.

“I sent Jack ahead with a police escort. I didn’t want to take any chances with another episode if he arrived with the rest ofthe team. The police will make sure you’re all safe once we get to the arena.”

I furrow my brow. “Okay…why are you only telling me this?”

Coach adjusts his hat. “Look, VK, I put you guys together not only so you could work through whatever is hanging between you, but because I see you as a leader. You’re new to the team, but they trust you. You inspire them to be the best they can, and that’s a rare quality. Everyone needs that kind of support, especially Jack. So I wanna ask you to put the past aside and help him get his head straight. We need him at the top of his game, and he’s messed up right now. I don’t know what happened to him before this trip, where those bruises came from, but I don’t believe his flimsy excuses. I think he needs a friend to talk to. To trust.”

“Okay,” I manage to choke out, his words ringing between my ears.

“You’re a leader. That’s why you’re here. Help him. Talk to him.”

My throat tightens. I tug at my shirt collar like it’s a noose choking me.

“That’s why you’re here.”

I can read between the lines.

I’m a leader. Not the star.

Anyone can lead if given the right opportunity.

Not everyone can be the NHL golden boy.

“I’ll talk to him,” I finally say.

Enver claps me on the shoulder and nods. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”

I climb onto the bus with the rest of the team, my head swimming with all of the things I want to say to Jack, but none of them have anything to do with the game.

As Enver promised, the cops get us into the arena without ahitch. The guys banter as we walk through the underbelly of the arena toward the visitor locker room, laughter echoing in the concrete corridors. We walk into the locker room and drop our bags onto the benches. I take a look around but there’s no sign of Jack.

I spot his duffel in a corner and pull open my own bag to change. I avoid small talk, working fast to get on my gear.

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