Page 170 of The Home Grown
“And this,” Johnny says, pointing to the trapezoid on the paused frame, “is where we need to watch our positioning.”
I know Johnny’s talking specifically to our third line D, but I nod along and mumble in agreement as his eyes sweep across the room.
Lead by example. That’s what he’s expecting for this weekend. And since I’m a rare entity, sitting on the first pairing with Johnny, this is something I’m keen to deliver.
See, Brits rarely get the ice time they’re so desperate for when the talent pool is full of seasoned imported players. I know my place is something I need to keep grafting for. Hard work and hustle. Head down. Eyes sharp and?—
My phone vibrates against my leg and once I make sure Johnny is busy with the TV, I slip my hand in and pull my phone out of my pocket—not all the way, just enough so I can check the screen.
Ellie.
I tap the screen to open her message, flicking my attention back to Johnny and Prez to check the coast is clear.
Ellie
Can you talk?
I reach for the cushion wedged between me and Danny, trying to make out I’m getting myself comfortable so I can pull my phone out properly. I angle myself so I can shield the screen.
Bettsy
Just in a video review with the team. You okay?
Ellie
Just need to talk to you.
Ah, shit.
What does that even mean? Is it the same as ‘we need to talk’? Because that never leads to a positive conversation.
My gut twists and I wonder if I’m about to see my last meal for a second time.
Did I say something? Did Inotsay something? Shit—did I forget her birthday? No, no … that’s in June. So, what?—
“—but Bettsy will tell you that,” Johnny says, with a half-grin. “Ask him how many blocked shots he’s racked up this month.”
Heads swivel in my direction.
“I—uh, quite a few,” I say, tearing my eyes away from my phone.
There’s a ripple of hushed amusement.
Johnny frowns, then raises a brow, offering me a‘I knew you weren’t listening’look, but the panic rises in my chest, making it difficult for me to care.
Need to talk to you.
I check my phone again, wondering if she’s followed up but there’s nothing.
I tap out a reply.
Bettsy
Is everything okay?
I watch the three little bouncing dots as she types. My heart somersaulting in my chest.
Then things go from bad to worse when her reply comes through.
