Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Patrick settles back in his chair and stares at me. “I noticed a difference in your performance on the ice since November.”
I say nothing.
“I asked Livia about it in our staff meeting.”
“And what did she say?” I can’t help but ask.
“Oh, she gave me a very careful, professional answer. She’s never revealed anything personal about you.”
“She’d never do that. I trust her.”
And yeah… I really trust her.
Patrick picks up a coffee cup on his desk and takes a sip. “She’s good at her job and probably one of the best hires I’ve made for this organization. Which is saying something because I don’t make bad hires.” He pauses, sets the cup down. “This could become quite complicated.”
“It won’t be,” I assure him. “It won’t affect her job, and I can promise you… you’ll never see me hurt this team again.”
He looks at me with those blue eyes that I’ve come to understand see everything and reveal only what he intends. “What she does going forward with you as a member of this roster is a conversation she and I will have directly.”
My heart skips a beat, because now it’s in Patrick’s hands. I have to trust that he will do right by Livia, and that’s a hard ask. While I trust my girl completely, I don’t know about Patrick. I think this is going to be a wait-and-see scenario, but I understood the risk I’d have to take when I made the decision to talk to him this morning.
I spent a lot of time weighing the risks last night. In order to have a clean slate and a path forward with Livia, I knew it all must be out in the open and approved by Patrick.
I decided the risk was worth taking, and I must have a certain level of trust in him.
“I trust you to be fair to Livia,” I say, and that’s quite the admission on my part.
Patrick nods. “What you’re planning to do—making it public—that’s your business. Good luck.”
“I’m going to need it,” I quip, rising from the chair. I start to turn away but reconsider and step up to the desk, holding out my hand. Patrick rises and shakes it. “Thank you,” I tell him solemnly. “I won’t let you down going forward.”
“I believe you,” he says.
The locker room is full when I walk in.
Post-morning skate, two dozen men in various stages of undress, and the low-level repartee that provides the normal ambient noise. Boss is arguing with someone about the ranking of breakfast foods and Arch is half in his gear with his phone in his hand. Rome is already suited up, moving toward the door, and he slows when he sees me come in.
Perhaps he sees it on my face.
I stand at the entrance and take in my teammates. I’m going to fill them in on the Livia situation, just like I did with Patrick, but it’s more than an announcement.
It’s an invitation into my personal life.
I look around the room. The men I’ve been playing with for almost three months. The men I’ve apparently been allowing to matter to me—incrementally, reluctantly—in spite of every decision I made after the age of seventeen about what that cost me.
“I need everyone’s attention,” I say, not loudly but because I so rarely initiate conversation, the room immediately goes quiet.
Coach Monahan looks up from his tablet, frowning at me in confusion.
“Livia Cross,” I say, panning the room to look at every man. “I’m in a relationship with her. It’s personal and it’s real and I should have told you sooner.” I note Arch’s jaw drop. “I think you all know she’s a complete professional, and everything she’s built with this team with the individual work she’s done with the players in this room, is legitimate and has nothing to do with us. If anyone has a problem with it, that problem is with me. Not with her. It doesn’t touch her role here and it doesn’t touch what she’s earned with this team, and I’ll take exception to anyone who thinks otherwise.”
The room is completely still. Boss stares at me with his mouth hanging open in equal proportion to Arch’s.
Crosby watches me with an expression that is doing several things simultaneously, one of which might be recognition. I imagine he and I will have a lot to talk about, and I might even hit him up for advice since he’s been in the same situation.
Nobody says anything for a moment and Rome pipes up. “Donovan.”
I look at him.
“You couldn’t have just sent a text like a normal person?”
Laughter sweeps through the room—sweeps through me. It’s the most perfect comment I could have gotten.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say with a wave of my hand. “I’ll do that next time I have a major announcement.”
“So, you and Cross,” Arch says, appearing at my elbow.