Page 81 of Locke

“Come home with me,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says.

We walk back along the water, the city lights shifting on the Willamette beside us.

Chapter 25

Locke

IknockonceonLivia’soffice door and enter.

I expected her to have arranged the chairs again facing each other, but instead everything is back in its original configuration.She’s behind her desk, looking undeniably beautiful and very determined.She motions to the empty chairs.

Settling back into one, I prop an ankle on my knee.“So here we are.”

“Here we are,” she murmurs.“How are you feeling?”

I can’t help but chuckle.I glance at my watch.“I was fucking you in your bed just two hours ago.”Livia blushes, ducks her head slightly.“And now here I am, and we’re probably getting ready to have our first real fight.”

“Why will this be a fight?”she asks.

“Come on, Livvy,” I chide, using the nickname I heard her mom call her at Thanksgiving.“You know that the job you’re required to do is directly in opposition to what I want to do.”

The corner of her mouth moves almost imperceptibly.She knows I know what she’s doing.I know she knows I know.We’ve been doing this long enough to be past the pretense of it, which is either comfortable or dangerous.I haven’t decided which.

“The team events,” she says, settling back in her chair.“You’ve done a great job at attending them.I can actually see you forging relationships.Your on-ice numbers are great, no unnecessary penalties.You’re reading plays faster, communicating better with your teammates.”She stops, because she can see from my face that I don’t need the metrics recited back to me.“You’ve done the work.I want you to know I see that.”

“Thank you,” I say, but I know there’s more coming.

“I still have concerns though,” she says, and her tone becomes slightly harder.“The underlying anger is still there.”

I look at her.

“The improvement is real,” she continues.“I’m not walking it back.But improvement and resolution aren’t the same thing and you know that.You’re managing it but trust me when I tell you that it has a ceiling, Locke.We’ve talked about this.Whatever is feeding your anger, it’s still there.And my concern is that at some point this season, or next season, or in the playoffs when the pressure compounds and the stakes are real, the lid comes off.And when it does, the team will let you go, and I doubt another will take you.Your hockey career will end.”

Her words strike true, but it’s not a warning I need.I know how precarious things are.They’ve been that way forever.

“I’ve managed it for nine years,” I say, my only defense.

“You’ve managed it badly for nine years,” she corrects me.

I look at the window again.

She’s not wrong, but neither am I.

“So.”I bring my eyes back to her.“What do you want from me?”

“I want to know where it comes from.”

“Come on, Livia.You should have this figured out by now.”I reply evenly.“You know my childhood.I learned early that I wasn’t anyone’s priority.Attachment issues and all that.”

“That’s not where it comes from,” she says softly and with such certainty, I know I can’t bullshit her.“The childhood history is real and it matters, but that’s not the source of the anger.That’s the foundation.Something happened, Locke.Something very specific.And it’s that thing that’s been driving the on-ice behavior for the better part of a decade.”

I say nothing.

The room is very quiet.

“There was someone,” she continues, carefully.Like she’s handling a live bomb.“I’m guessing you were close to that person and now you don’t have him or her anymore.”