Page 116 of Player Misconduct
We have an agreement. He keeps his mouth shut and I’ll consider coming to his upcoming home game.
But the knot in my chest doesn't loosen. Because Tarron doesn't just show up. Not without a reason. And whatever that reason is, I know it's not good.
The game starts, and I force myself to focus. To watch the ice. To track the players. To do my job. But every few minutes, my eyes drift to the stands.
And every time, I see him. Sitting three rows back. Watching.
He’s sandwiched between two other Sentinel players who seem to be having a good time, cheering on the team, getting into it with the fans around them. But Tarron doesn’t engage with the other fun-loving teammates. His eyes stay fixed on me.
Then by the end of the second period, before the players all head into the locker room, I see something that doesn’t mean good news. Tarron has not only one, but two beers in his hands.
Don’t do this Tarron. You were clean.
By the end of the third period, the Hawkeyes win the first pre-season game and everyone celebrates. It’s a good first win that gives the team the moral boost they needed after last year's devastating loss.
I slip out of the box, quickly letting Theo know that I need to talk to Penelope about Tarron, and head toward the tunnel, needing air, needing space, needingsomethingother than the suffocating weight of his presence. I make it through the tunnel, then the player’s locker room, but I need to see Penelope and I know she’s probably in the owner’s box with some of the other girls watching the game. I need to at least make sure she’s aware that Tarron is in the stadium and might do something stupid. But as soon as I push out of the locker room door and down the VIP and player only hallway, I turn the corner, and he's there.
Leaning against the wall. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable. A VIP badge around his neck.
It makes sense he would have gotten one. Teams like to cross promote. It brings press and it’s good for both franchises.
"Kendall," he says, voice low.
I stop. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he says, eyes dropping to my stomach. "But I think I already know the answer."
My jaw tightens. "I’m the team doctor, I have a reason to be here. And you’re drinking Tarron. What are you thinking?
"I’m thinking we need to talk."
"No," I say, voice firm. “You need to go home and sober up. How many beers have you had?”
He steps closer, and I force myself not to flinch. "I can handle a few beers, Kendall. What I can’t handle is that I’m right here. I’m finally back. And if you’d just give me another chance I could show you that you’re still my wife."
I shake my head. I can’t believe he’s doing this here… and now. "You’re only mad because I moved on. And you should too."
His mouth twists into something that might be a smile if it weren't so cold. "You really think he's going to stick around? When the board finds out? When the press finds out?"
"That's none of your business."
"It is when it affects my reputation," he says. "People still think that baby's mine, Kendall. And you're not doing anything to correct them."
We’ve been through this. He knows we were supposed to not comment, not make things worse. His big mouth is the only reason the gossip magazines are going crazy over it. But I can’t say that because right now, while he’s drunk, it won’t help either of us.
"Because it's easier that way," I say, in a low voice since people are starting to move around. "For everyone."
I smile at the security guard who walks past us on his way out to the stadium concession stands to make sure foot traffic flows and drunk fans don’t get crazy.
"For who?" he asks, voice rising. "For him? For you? Or for the board that's already got your file open?"
My blood runs cold. How does he know that the board has my file open? "What are you talking about?"
He shrugs, casual. "Just something I heard. Through the grapevine. You know how these things spread."
I stare at him, my chest tight. "You're lying."
"Am I?" He leans in, voice dropping. "Or am I the only one willing to tell you the truth?"
