Page 61 of The Home Grown
Shit.
Just hand me the shovel and I’ll keep digging.
The GM was probably trying to do the right thing by keeping it vague—and now I’ve fucked it.
I scrape every corner of my mind to come up with something. Maybe if I burst out into laugher Coach will see the funny side of it—but apparently, I’m on a roll with the bullshit today.
“She’s a private person, likes to keep herself to herself,” I say. “We’ve not been married for long, but we’re childhood sweethearts, you know? Sort of went our own ways until…” I force a grin, waving my hand dismissively, “yeah, you don’t need to hear about it.”
Coach’s smile fades.
“So, this stuff online? A bitter ex, I take it?”
I take the bait. “Yeah, and there’s no truth to it, Coach.”
He studies me for a moment before his grin returns.
“What a fucking relief—honestly. I thought you were one of these partying-types but this—this has made things a load better. Maybe you should invite Mrs Betts along to the social event next month? Assuming you get to stick around.”
He throws me a wink, and I die a little inside.
Mrs Betts. And we both know he’s not talking about my mam.
But there’s no time to worry about that right now, because there’s another pressing issue I need to take care of first.
Ellie.
Ellie’s going to kill me.
And the thought of telling her has me shifting all my effort into standing still, because I feel like I’m about to faint.
She’s going to fucking kill me.
“Right,” Coach says, pulling me away from my spiral. “Let’s get started. See you on the ice.”
He steps around me, pushing open the door to the dressing room. He shouts something inside and moments later, the thudding of multiple pairs of skates on the move hits my ears.
What the fuck have I done?
I stare at the floor beneath my skates, willing the ground to open and let me fall inside. But a movement from behind me snaps my attention upwards and I twist my head to spot Danny coming to a stop.
“Is everything okay?” he says, slapping me on the back.
I turn on the spot, facing him, and he visibly winces.
“Christ—you look like you’ve shit yourself. What did Coach say?”
I swallow down the lump rising in my throat, but it doesn’t go away.
“Mate?” Danny prompts.
I shake my head, re-jigging my focus back on my friend.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” I say.
“Right. Well?—”
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
