Page 189 of Over the Line

“Eh, you were caught off-guard.” I shrugged. “I forgot about the cameras in that moment, too.” There were two cameras pointed directly at the spot where we’d had our argument after Chris found out about us. We’d both known about those, but in the moment… Well, I just hadn’t thought about it. Apparently Chris hadn’t either. And none of us had noticed one of the sports reporters lingering outside with an unobtrusive camera point at us. It had been a lot easier in the days when every reporter’s camera was a huge shoulder-mounted beast. With phones and those little sticks that looked like small microphones—they could be a lot more discreet about filming us. Assholes.

Chris rolled his shoulders. “Before we go in…” He nodded toward the door, then looked right at me. “I’m sorry. About what I said about my rookie season.”

I winced. “I should’ve told you.” I paused, then laughed. “Guess there’s a pattern here, isn’t there?”

He chuckled softly. “Nah. I mean, okay, communication is good. But you didn’t have to tell me. I…” He scowled. “I wouldn’t have known at all if Arlen hadn’t let it slip.”

My jaw went slack. “He what?”

Scowling, Chris nodded. “Yeah. After my first home opener on the roster. He asked if it irritated me that the captain kept pushing me back down to the minors.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Garrett said beside me.

“Yeah. That.” I rolled my eyes. “He must’ve heard it from his stepdad. But I… The only reason I encouraged the coaches to keep you down there was because I’ve been there. I was that nineteen-year-old rookie who was expected to be a superstar before I even knew my way around the arena’s ice level.”

“Wow,” Chris whispered.

“It was a lot. I saw your potential just like the scouts and coaches did. We’d all been watching you for the last couple of years before you were drafted.”

He straightened, eyes widening. “You… You were?”

“Well, yeah.” I grinned. “We don’t select someone twelfth overall on a whim. We knew what we were getting, and the front office consulted me a lot before that happened. When you got here and you were at training camp, we could all see your talent and hockey IQ.” I exhaled. “But you were also young, and I could see myself in you.”

Chris blinked. “Really?”

I nodded. “The scared teenager feeling all that pressure? Oh, yeah. Absolutely. To tell you the truth, Coach wanted you on the roster from day one. I encouraged him to let you develop more in the minors. Not because I didn’t believe in you, but because I knew what kind of stress that would bring. I’ve seen first overall picks flame out because of that. I didn’t want that to happen to you.”

Chris’s shoulders sank a little. “Wow. I thought I was failing because I couldn’t make the team, but…” He sighed and shook his head. “My first clue should’ve been when I did come up and I was so overwhelmed by everything.” He glanced at his dad, then stared at his feet as some color bloomed in his cheeks. “I wasn’t nearly as good as everyone thought I was.”

“No, you were exactly that good,” I said. “You just needed time. The transition to this level is hard. I know what it feels like to get shoved from major juniors onto this stage, and it is overwhelming. The pressure I felt my first couple of seasons?” I whistled, tired just from thinking about those days. “I never wanted to hold you back. I just wanted you to have that extra time and development that I never got.”

Chris swallowed, and he looked at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And, yes, we probably could’ve brought you up sooner. A lot sooner. There was a ton of debate about it because—I mean, like I said, that raw talent and hockey IQ were obvious. But Gil and I agreed that letting you tear it up in the minors for another season would give you the confidence to really shine up here. Which it did.”

Chris chewed his lip.

“I think he’s right,” Garrett said softly. “I watched you play on TV, and the difference in your play from before the draft and when you made the Phantoms? That was incredible, Chris. It really was.”

The blush in Chris’s cheeks deepened, and he glanced at his father, then at me. “Now I really feel like an ass for throwing it in your face.”

I shrugged. “You were already pissed after that clown Arlen stirred the pot like he did.”

“Ugh.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Is it too much to ask for him to get hit by a bus?”

Garrett and I both snorted.

“Well, if he does,” I said. “Let’s hope it’s not one of the buses here at the arena. Because at least that means he’s not here harassing players anymore.”

That got a genuine laugh out of Chris.

I raised my eyebrows. “So, we good?”

“Yeah. We’re good.” He clapped my shoulder. “Guess this is why we keep making you captain.”

“Well, someone has to be the adult in the room.”

Garrett scoffed. “And they picked you?”