Page 70 of Truce: Declan
I’m surprised Coach Malone hasn’t benched me, but it seems the entire morale of the team has been down this week. I know why I’m a mess, but the rest of the guys, I can’t fathom what their excuse is for being distracted.
I can’t stop thinking about Zayn. The custody hearing is this week. I’ve tried to avoid the news because one of the guys mentioned Brass was giving an interview and laying it on thick about how he could lose his only son, the little boy he’s raised since birth.
My son.
He had years with Zayn when it should have been me.
I’m grateful that we aren’t scheduled to play the Island Bruisers until after the hearing next week. Right now, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t pound the shit out of Grant Brass if I saw him, and it wouldn’t be good if he doesn’t at least have the puck.
Keep my anger in check.
That had been the advice given to me by the lawyer.
DCFS is scrutinizing Zayn’s current home, but they also want to ensure that if I’m granted custody, I’m a fit parent. I can’t fault them for wanting that for my son. And it could easily be twisted in court that I have “anger issues” if the hockey fights were taken out of context.
Again, my lawyer's sage advice.
Avoid as many fights as I can and keep gameplay clean as much as possible. Those tend to be Coach Malone’s rules too, but it doesn’t mean skirmishes don’t happen on the ice.
I’ve never played in a game where someone didn’t end up in the penalty box at some point. It’s a hazard of the job.
But right now, I’m under a microscope along with Grant Brass. I’ve been watching his game footage late at night, recording his games to see where he’s screwed up and what aggression he’s shown on the ice.
And he’s fallen repeatedly into the trap of brutality first. The game comes second.
I refuse to do the same.
“I need a favor.” I pull Kyler aside after the Wolverines game, my helmet in hand. We took a hell of a beating out there on the ice, and while we lost, it was a close game.
“Name it,” Kyler says, nodding as he strips out of his hockey gear.
“If I get custody of Zayn—”
“When,” Kyler corrects me. He’s had no doubt that my son will be reunited with me, and this is just a bump along the road. I wish I had his vote of confidence right now.
“When,” I say and suck in a sharp breath. Later this week is the court hearing. It’s been difficult to keep my head entirely in the game. “When I get custody of Zayn, I might need someone I trust to watch him.”
“Oh, of course.” Kyler’s eyes light up. “You’re going to need a nanny for when you have games and practice. You can’t have my nanny, but I can help give you some names.”
“That’s appreciated, but I was thinking more of a sitter. I may want to go out one evening. Specifically, to a charity event.”
Jasper spins around, overhearing the conversation. “Is this the gala that Amber has been talking my ear off about, the one where Charlotte is attending, and her father is involved in the event?”
“That’s the one,” I grunt. I’m not a fan of her old man, although based on the interactions I read and have heard about, neither is she. “If I gain custody of Zayn this week, I’ll need help watching him for a night.”
“I’m sure Em won’t mind watching the kids. You can bring Zayn over, and he can have a sleepover at our place,” Kyler says. “What night?”
“Saturday. And I’m hoping I can request one more favor.”
“You are running out of favors, Reece,” Kyler says. “Go on.” He gestures for me to continue.
“The charity event is for the Island Bruisers. I want to shake things up.”
“Shake things up?” Jasper quips with a wicked grin. “Count me in.”
“Me too,” Kyler adds. “If it involves screwing with the Bruisers, you know I’m game.”
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