Page 5 of Puck King
“Sure, Coach,” I said.
“And, I’d like you to leave the ice now.” He didn’t look at me, his eyes were trained on the players.
“But…” I felt like a child protesting being sent to his room. “I always—”
Coach shook his head. “I know that you always leave the ice last, and I know that you’re the most particular about the way your sticks are taped, but what we’re doing isn’t working.”
It took a second for me to register what Coach was saying. “Are you asking me to break tradition to try and break our slump?”
He watched the play ahead of us. “I can’t think of anything else.”
“But—”
He held up his hand. “King. I know who owns this team. But I also know that the GM’s head is on the chopping block, and my job is also on the line. I’m not giving you special treatment. The morale on the team has been slipping, and the paparazzi have been harassing the players because of you.”
The general manager of the team was a former player, one who would respect tradition. “Fine, I’ll leave. But Coach, my personal life doesn’t have anything to do with our standing in the league.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Montford skated away.
What the hell? Was I being blamed? Did they actually think that I was the reason the team might not make the playoffs? In an act of defiance, I left my stick and gloves on the ice. A couple of the players looked at me and nodded. They knew what I was doing, and I knew that they would appreciate the gesture. As long as my stick and glove were still on the ice, I would be the last guy to leave the damn surface.
I did honor Coach’s request to talk to me after the practice. As I passed by the exit on the way to Coach’s office, I could hear the paparazzi shouting through the heavy metal doors as each player left the building and was thankful that I had a reason to stay at the Coliseum a little longer.
“Come on in, King.” Coach didn’t get up from his desk.
When I stepped into the room, I was surprised to see Everleigh also standing beside the desk.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Coach gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat. We’re waiting on one more person.”
I assumed the ‘person’ was Brock, the general manager of the team, or even Rob. So when my father stepped into the room instead, I knew something big was about to happen. Was I getting fired for standing up for the team’s traditions?
“Son.” My father clapped me on the shoulder as he passed by to give Everleigh a kiss on the cheek, then went to shake Coach’s hand. “Montford”.
“Mr. King.” While Coach shook my father’s hand, I raised my eyebrows at Everleigh. She shrugged her shoulders in response. Clearly, she had no idea why the two of us had been summoned to the office.
After clearing his throat and taking a seat in the leather chair beside me, my father rubbed his hands together. “We’re making some changes.”
My heart started to beat a bit faster than usual and I wondered if they were good or bad changes. “What kind of changes?” I asked.
“Well, son. I’ve thought long and hard about this – and it’s been a tough decision.”
“You’re trading me?” I gripped the armrests of the chair.
My father chuckled and then patted my arm. “No, nothing like that. You’re the best player in the league, but lately it seems like you’re a little…”
“Distracted,” Coach filled in.
“Distracted?” I scoffed and crossed my arms. “I would disagree with that statement.”
“I would too,” Everleigh said. “Dad. You know that Colton is a machine. He’s not distracted.”
My father turned his palms up and sighed. “Fine. Colton, you’re distracting to the other players.”
My pulse thumped in my ears. If he wasn’t my father, I would have a few choice words to say to the man. I inhaled through my nose and waited for the urge to punch something pass. “And how am I distracting?”
Coach slid a stack of newspapers across the desk, mixed in with some tabloids. “It’s perception, Colton. The team is in trouble and the media has picked the fall guy. You.”
