Page 141 of Edging Coach
“Listen,” I said, “I’ll talk to Emil. With your permission, I can even tell him that I already knew you were getting called up.”
“That means admitting we were together.”
“Yes. It does.”
Devon was quiet again, though I could hear him breathing on the other end. Finally, he whispered, “Do you really think this is the best way? Coming clean?”
“Yes. I think it’s the only way at this point.”
“Ugh,” he growled. “Fuck Hairs for putting us in this position.”
“No kidding. But we’ll do the best we can with the cards we’ve been dealt.” I tipped my head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Do you want to come with me to talk to Emil?”
More silence. “I have practice tomorrow.”
“So do I.”
“I’m in Abbotsford now. If we meet Emil first thing in the morning, I can still get to Vancouver in time for practice.”
I closed my eyes and pretended not to notice that ball of frustration in my chest. I knew he was in town. Knew he’d been at tonight’s game. Knowing he was close by made me ache to be with him, but… no. Not tonight. Not when there was someone sniffing around for dirt. We just had to talk to Emil, get this over with, and then?—
“Jack?”
My eyes flew open and I cleared my throat. “Right. Um. I’ll text Emil. What time is your practice tomorrow?”
“Eleven.”
“Okay. Let me see if I can get us into his office by eight or so. Will thatgive you enough time?”
“It’ll be close, but I can manage.”
“All right. I’ll let you know as soon as I set something up.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll get through this. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We ended the call, and I indulged in a moment to just fume and quietly panic over this situation Hairs had thrust us into. Yes, we were the ones who’d taken the risk and gotten involved with each other, but nothing excused blackmail. And if we got ahead of this, maybe we could minimize the damage to our careers. Or at least Devon’s career. I was pragmatic enough to know that there was likely no coming back from this for me. Devon could easily be dismissed as a young player who did something stupid. I would be painted as the coach who abused his position of power.
That was almost funny, given the actual power dynamic between Devon and me. But no one was going to know about that part, and quite frankly, I was willing to take whatever label the public gave me over this. Devon and I knew the truth. If getting blacklisted from ever coaching again was the price of leaving Devon’s career relatively unscathed? Fine.
I took a deep breath. Rolled my shoulders. Pulled up Emil’s contact on my phone.
And before I could talk myself out of it, I got this ball rolling.
Emil’s office was painfully silent except for the quiet tap-tap-tapping of Devon’s sneaker heel on the floor and my blood pounding in my ears.
The GM looked at him. Then me. Then him again. Hisexpression offered up nothing, though I was pretty sure I read some irritation in the narrowness of his eyes.
We’d spelled it out to him. Laid it all out, from our relationship to Devon’s teammate blackmailing him. I’d watched a whole flurry of emotions play out across our GM’s face, from fury to confusion towhat the fuck did I do to deserve to have this bullshit at eight twenty-two in the goddamned morning?
We’d told him everything, and there was nothing to do now except wait for the chips to fall.
And wait for the third party Emil had summoned after we’d finished.
I fought the urge to fidget in my chair. At least the additional person was already in the building; God help us if we’d had to wait for someone to drive in. Just waiting these last few minutes already threatened to drive me insane, and I could feel the nervous energy radiating off Devon, too. Hockey players were not known for the ability to sit still under the best of circumstances. And the best of circumstances, these were not.
