Page 102 of Puck Fest
My hand shakes as I sign my name at the bottom.
“I’m sorry it came to this,” Marshall says. “You’re good atyour job. But you let your personal feelings compromise your judgment. And now we all pay the price.”
“I know.”
“Clean out your office. HR will be in touch about final paperwork. And Noah?” He looks at me. “You’re a good person. You made a mistake. Don’t let this define you.”
I stand up, walk back to my office, and start packing.
I pile my files up and drop them into a cardboard box that suddenly appeared while I was gone. I add the coffee mug my father gave me when I got hired and the Raptors jersey signed by the team.
I’m on my way out when my father appears in the doorway.
“I heard what happened,” he says. “I’m sorry, Noah.”
“Really?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice, even though I know I don’t have any right to be angry at Dad. I made my own choices without regard for anyone else. “You told me to decide what I could live with. Turns out I can’t live with any of this.”
“Noah—”
“I ended the relationship to protect everyone. To salvage what I could. And it didn’t matter. I still lost my job. Danny still got suspended. Your reputation is still damaged. The team’s still missing playoffs.” I put down the box. “I sacrificed everything for nothing.”
“You didn’t sacrifice for nothing. You did what you thought was right.”
“And look where that got me. Unemployed. Humiliated.” I shake my head. “Did you see the article? Danny gave Alex an interview. He told him we kissed during probation and gave him everything he needed to destroy us both.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“No. And I’m not going to.”
“You should. Hear his side?—”
“His side is in theChicago Tribunefor everyone to read.” I pick up the box and head for the door. “I need to go.”
“Where?”
“Home. Away from here. I don’t know.”
He steps aside without a word.
I stalk through the arena one last time. Once I’m at my car, I dump the box in the backseat and slump in the driver’s seat.
My phone buzzes, and with a heavy heart, I open the text from Danny.
Noah, please call me. I need to explain?—
I delete it without reading the rest.
Another text comes through immediately.
Alex twisted everything. That’s not what I said. Please?—
Again, I delete it. Then I block his number.
I can’t do this. I can’t hear his excuses or process any more bullshit today.
I get home in a daze then walk inside like a zombie. I collapse on the couch and close my eyes.
My phone rings. Over and over and over.
