Page 15 of Until He Scores

The same as my dad had done to me.

Wasn’t I the asshole.

Because as much as I hated the fact my father drowned his sorrows, never thinking of me while on his path of destruction, I’d done the same to Thierry after that night in his basement. I wallowed in a different way. Overcompensated. I tried to prove I didn’t need him, or he didn’t matter to me. I went on a walkabout and never thought twice about him. Or his feelings. Or how scared he must have been that night.

Damn you, Wes. Why the fuck did you have to mess with my head?

Thierry and me, we should’ve been able to talk through our feelings and at least not been so awkward around each other. I should have recognized he felt so comfortable with me, he expressed himself and his feelings without hesitation. I was his safe person, and I blew it.

Guilt or sadness, I wasn’t sure which, maybe both, tore through me. I couldn’t say I wasted all those years I’d been away from home. I met some interesting people. Learned from some of the best in the business and had experiences I knew I’d never have had I stayed in Murfreesboro. So, in a way, I was glad I took off for parts unknown. The person I became was forged in those encounters. Still... Leaving drove the wedge deeper between Thierry and me.

Once I was finished cleaning up, I shut off the shower then grabbed my towel to dry off. Dwelling on the past didn’t solve anything. Wes was right, I should be happy Thierry was home. I could at least apologize for being a dick to him and ask him all the questions I’d had since that night. We might never be close, like we once were, but fixing some of the damage was better than doing nothing.

I stepped out of the bathroom and climbed into my bed. Picking up the remote, I turned on the television. Since I had the sports package for streaming, I decided I’d check out some of Thierry’s most recent games and figure out what the hell happened to him on the ice.

That was a start, right? Wanting to understand the man he’d become, so it didn’t feel like we were strangers anymore. I snorted. Probably not. All I was doing was assuaging my guilty conscience for not feeling bad about ditching someone who’d once been my best friend. Wasn’t like I was watching the games to help him after his injury.

I was still a fucked-up person.

Chapter 6

Thierry

Pulling up to the practice rink, I stared at the complex. The only thing running through my mind was my critics.Thierry Thomas, coach? What comes next after a bitter medical retirement? Star to dud, Thierry Thomas benched, relegated to the coaching staff.Each question and mean-spirited statement was a chink in the chainmail I used to insulate myself from the chirping pundits. Their rhetoric was the easiest way to either score with their audiences or cause havoc on the field or, in my case, on the ice.

Crazy how it was my turn in the spotlight now.

I guess after my illustrious career, it was only fair to face the speculation.

Thing was, they weren’t wrong. I had those questions too. Was I too old? Had I fucked my knee up so badly, at my age—thirty-five—everything that came after the initial incident was my fault? Mentally, my head was in the game. I wanted to be out there on the ice instead of behind the boards. In all the years since I started playing, I never had a day where I wanted to give up. However, sometimes, an old dog like me, needed rest.

Perhaps I should embrace the forced medical retirement. Face the new direction my life took and accept the coaching job as a gift. Hell, if I didn’t, amputating my legs was next.

Ain’t no one had time for that.

Again, I wondered if I was making the right decisions lately, considering I never planned for what came next after I retired. If anything, I thought I’d be in the game until I hit forty or at least forty-two. That hunger still burned within me. Or as my dad would say that dog could hunt. Nevertheless, following that drive and those instincts led to a pretty solitary life. Obviously, I thought I found the balance when I met Derrick. For a short time, I felt an equal part member of the team and equal part family man. Now... I wouldn’t call what I felt jealousy, per se. However, watching my teammates get married and have kids ate a hole in my gut. I still wanted a partner. Someone to come home to. Someone to share my life with. What was the point of having fame and money if I couldn’t share the luxury with them?

I’d given the best years of my life to club and country, and what did I have to show for it? An artificial knee, a coaching job, and an ungrateful ex-partner who called me up this morning to just dig their claws into me one more time. Fuck, I hated Derrick. “Coaching now, Thierry?” He laughed that condescending way of his. “Boy, how the mighty have fallen. I’m so glad I got out when I did. Who knows what you would’ve done to me next?”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel of my truck, causing my knuckles to turn white and exposed the scars there from years of having my hands smacked with sticks or fighting on the ice. I stared at my phone long after that call ended, wondering what the fuck had just happened and how I kept falling for the wrong people.

More importantly, how I tried using every guy, whether as a one-night stand or in a relationship, as a replacement for Pope.

Deep down, I wanted my friend back. In all the years since we parted ways, there’d been several times when I’d wanted to pick up the phone and call him, just to hear his voice or talk through an issue I was having. At nineteen, I hit a wall. I wasn’t progressing, but I also wasn’t advancing in the sport. I’d gotten my awards and medals, and I wondered if maybe I’d done it all. Like I could settle for the Olympic stuff and never make hockey my career choice. If only Pope knew how close I’d come to quitting in that six-month period where nothing mattered, he’d have kicked my ass.

If things hadn’t turned sour, he’d have been a phone call away or right by my side as my goalie. He’d have reminded me why we played this game and how much it meant to both of us. Life would’ve been perfect. Maybe I wouldn’t have fallen for Derrick either.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards for me. I realized too late; I shouldn’t have kissed Pope. I should’ve abandoned the notion of him being mine years ago when I saw him with his first girlfriend, Cherie. Pope being my best friend meant more to me than not having him at all in my life. But there was something about him, I just couldn’t let go of. In the end, I’d been the only one to get hurt. No one else.Get your shit together, Thomas. Can’t be a mopey SOB on your first day of coaching.

No, I couldn’t.

Couldn’t even think about my personal problems while I was playing either. One thing about hockey, those who didn’t pay attention, always got hurt. A lapse in my mental acuity got me hurt through no fault of anyone else on the ice.I just took my eye off the game and got stuck in my head.

Poor Linky. There’d been nothing he could’ve done to prevent our collision. It was all on me.

That’s enough pity for today. Time to go inside and start over.

At thirty-five.

---