Page 87 of Zero Pucks Given
“It doesn’t matter. Listen to me, Grayson: she’s not a member of this team. She’s a beer girl who slings makeup on the internet. My job isn’t to protect her: it’s to protect you and the other members of the Surge. But I can’t do that if you’re sending her messages behind my back. Just lay low for the rest of the day, and you can talk to her tomorrow. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” I bit off.
I considered ignoring his advice and calling her, but a trickle ofdoubt entered my mind. What if shehadcontacted TMZ? They paid a lot of money for stories like this. I didn’t actually think that was true, but the possibility was enough to make me shove my phone in my pocket and drive to the team’s practice facility.
For a while, I distracted myself by exercising. Thirty minutes on the stationary bike, then an hour lifting weights. My legs were dead tired from last night’s game, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain.
By the time I was done, my teammates had trickled into the practice facility. After showering, we met in one of the conference rooms to review footage from last night’s game. The entire team was there, including the full coaching staff. One of the assistant coaches led the meeting, breaking everything down by periods.
“That second goal is my fault,” I said when that play came up. I pointed at the projector screen. “I thought Kasparov was hugging the wall, so when I turned to the right, he caught me off guard.”
“Your teammates could’ve warned you,” Coach announced, gazing around the room. Calder, you had a bird’s-eye view of the play developing. You need to be calling it out when their center suddenly changes position.”
“Got it, Coach,” Mason replied with a nod.
My phone lit up on the table in front of me. Out of habit, I picked it up to look at the screen. It was another text from Josie.
“Is that your girlfriend?” demanded Hunter, the backup goaltender.
“It’s bad enough she’s distracting you on the road,” Tyler said dryly. “Now she’s distracting you during team meetings. She’s fucking things up onandoff the ice.”
I turned to face him. “What was that? I didn’t hear you. Please repeat it for me.”
Tyler stuck his chin out defiantly. “She’s a distraction. You shouldn’t have let her drink with us in the hotel bar. Don’t get pissed off at me—everyone here is thinking it.”
I looked around the room. A few players met my gaze, but more stared down at the table. Nobody contradicted Tyler.
My stomach tightened.
“Call your girlfriend later,” Coach snapped. “Let’s get back to the tape.”
But as we reviewed the rest of the game footage, I was lost in my own thoughts. I tried analyzing everything that had happened in Edmonton. I was in such a good groove for that first game, expertly passing the puck and dictating everything that happened on the ice. In the second game, I felt off from the very start. I had no idea why.
It wasn’t because ofher, was it?
I didn’t think so. Not really. But I felt rudderless as I sat in the conference room, reviewing all the ways we had blown the second game.
When we packed up to leave two hours later, I found Bob waiting outside the room. “I’ve done everything you asked,” I immediately said. “You can check my phone if you want. I haven’t so much as texted Josie.”
“I believe you. That’s not why I’m here. We’re changing strategies.”
I frowned. “What happened to laying low and waiting for the story to die?”
“It’s not working. The story is building more momentum.”
“It’s only been half a day,” I pointed out.
“Which is a lifetime on social media.” He handed me a tablet. “Suit up. I need you to read that speech in the media room. We’ll pre-record it and release it later.”
I skimmed the speech. It was only a few paragraphs. And it made a lot of sense, especially from a PR standpoint.
“All right.”
I put on a suit and went to the media room. Hopefully the statement would put everything behind me so I could focus on hockey.
I also hoped Josie would understand.
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