Page 90 of Puck Fest
“Yes.”
“Even though he punched someone and got you both exposed?”
“He was defending us. Someone used a slur, and he?—”
“He lost control. Just like he did atPuck Fest.” Dad says. “You spent two months teaching him restraint. And the second it mattered, he forgot everything.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair? You want to talk about fair?” His voice rises. “Is it fair that I’m going to spend the next month answering questions about my son’s relationship with a player? Is it fair that Bob Marshall has to defend his decision to hire you? Is it fair that every disciplinary decision I’ve made this season is now going to be questioned?”
“No. It’s not fair. But I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
“But it did. And now we have to deal with the consequences.”
He’s right. I know he’s right.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Noah, I can’t tell you what to do here. You’re an adult. This is your life.” He’s quiet for a moment. “But I need you to understand what this costs. Not just you. Not just Masterson. Everyone around you.”
“I know.”
“You had every chance to tell me about it before the world found out.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“How about the truth? How about trusting me enoughto tell me before the entire world found out?” His voice cracks. “You’re my son. And I had to watch you kiss another man on a video someone sent me while asking if I knew about it.”
The pain in his voice destroys me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. But sorry doesn’t fix this.” He runs a hand through his hair. “The league is going to investigate the probation process. They’re going to ask if you gave him special treatment. If I knew and looked the other way. If Marshall hired you knowing you’d compromise the organization.”
“I didn’t give him special treatment.”
“It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do. It matters what it looks like. And it looks bad, Noah.” He sits down heavily.
“You didn’t know.”
“Yeah.” He looks at me. “But the worst part is, I’m more hurt that you didn’t trust me than I am angry about the relationship itself.”
That breaks me.
“I wanted to tell you. So many times. But I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of disappointing you. Of you looking at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
He stands. “Well, now you have to figure out what you’re going to do. About Marshall’s statement. About your job. About Danny. I can’t make those decisions for you.”
“What do you think I should do?”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
