Page 39 of The Grumpy Defenseman

I closed my mouth.

He held my eyes until the silence had weight.

“Sit,” he said.

“I already am.”

“Then sit and look at me. Not the floor.”

I looked at him.

“You snapped at her in front of the room.”

“I know.”

“In front of Sully. In front of Mack. In front of two rookies who think you walk on water. In front of Sam.”

The name hit harder because he had not called her Sam to my face before.

I did not answer.

“You used the nickname she gave you,” he said. “Mr. Sunshine. You took the affectionate thing she had made for you and turned it into a knife. Then you handed it back to her with the edge out. You did that. Not me. Not the room. You.”

“I know.”

“Don’t ‘I know’ me, Evan.”

He never called me Evan.

“Then what?” I said.

“Then answer me. Why?”

“Brick…”

“Why?”

The word sat in the room.

I looked at the rubber mats. The black weave. The little flecks of blue worn through by years of deadlifts.

“I had a bad day,” I said.

“Try again.”

“I had a contract call I didn’t tell anyone about.”

“I know about the contract call. Mark called Sully. Sully called me the day it dropped. Try again.”

I looked up at him.

“You knew?”

“I know what’s threatening my room. Try again.”

I breathed out.

“Because I was scared,” I said.