Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(61)

Chapter 16


Asher



I really wanted to see Geoff, and he’d told me earlier via text I was welcome to come by, but I had another stop to make first.

Everyone who’d been on the ice last night didn’t have to come to practice today, so I didn’t bother going into the locker room when I got to the stadium. Instead, I went upstairs to Coach Morris’s office.

Heart thumping, I tapped my knuckle on the door frame. “Hey. You wanted to see me?”

He looked up from his computer screen, and when he saw me, he took off his glasses and folded his hands on the desk. “Come on in. And close the door.”

Oh great. A closed door meeting with Coach Morris. That was always fun.

I silently did as I was told and took a seat in front of his desk.

“I think we need to talk about the incident during last night’s game. With the cop who was injured.” Coach inclined his head, and I swear to God, he stared right into me. “I understand the party involved was your partner.”

I swallowed. “Ex-partner. And yes. I heard he was thrown out.”

“He was.” Coach tilted his head, eyes still focused hard on me. “The venue managers aren’t too happy about a season ticket holder being removed from the premises, but apparently he was warned by the police to stay away from you. You know anything about that?”

I broke the staring contest.

“Is this true?” he asked.

“It’s…” I chewed my lip, not sure at all how far I should tip my hand. “Yeah. It’s true.”

Coach’s chair creaked, but otherwise the room was silent. “Is there something going on here I should know about?”

I rubbed my heel against the chair leg just for something to do. I was painfully restless, and my coach’s scrutiny made me more nervous than it ever had before. That said a lot.

Well, Asher? What are you going to do?

That was a damned good question. This was my chance. I could finally tell someone, even if it was just Coach and no one else on the team, what I’d been dealing with for the last few years.

In my mind, I could see Coach throwing a conniption and demanding to know how long I was going to let this fuck up my hockey—and how long I was going to keep cashing those not-insignificant paychecks—before I pulled my head out of my ass and started behaving like a professional.

“Your personal shit is your personal shit,” he’d bellowed to us one night. “Keep it off my ice.”

And out of his stadium, probably.

Still fidgeting nervously, I cleared my throat. “It’s nothing. Things got dicey the night we broke up. The cops told him to stay away from me, or he’d be arrested for harassment.”

“Do you think it’s necessary to keep him out of the stadium?”

“It is if you want me to focus on hockey.” I shifted a little. “But he’s looking at jail time for hitting the cop, so…”

Coach blinked. Then nodded. “All right, then. I’ll tell management to figure out a refund arrangement or…” He waved his hand. “Anyway, that’s for them to sort out with him. Bottom line is that I don’t want him in the stadium if it’s going to screw with one of my players.” Drumming his nails on the desk, he met my eyes. “Have you considered a restraining order?”

My mouth instantly went dry, and I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

His eyebrows lowered slightly, as if he were trying to read a card I wasn’t showing. Then he shrugged. “Well, it’s your call. At the very least, we have last night’s police report, so that’ll be enough for his tickets to be cancelled. If he’s going to jail, it won’t be an issue anyway. Not for a while. The stadium management and the hockey club are both leaning heavily toward a lifetime ban, too. We don’t tolerate violence here.”

I managed a dry laugh. “Except on the ice?”

Coach chuckled but only halfheartedly. He held my gaze across the broad desk. Held it for a long time, and my heart thumped harder as I wondered if he was going to try to dig deeper and get more answers out of me. Finally, he sighed. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” I got up and headed out, and Jesus, but it was an odd feeling, walking out of Coach’s office and knowing I’d been able to keep my secret. It was a victory and a defeat. Like I’d wanted to keep the truth about Nathan to myself, but I’d been desperate for Coach to keep prying until he got that truth out of me. Then I wouldn’t have to carry it by myself anymore.

You could’ve just told him, idiot.

I exhaled, stuffing my hands in my pockets as I headed out to the parking garage. Just tell him? As if it was that simple. As if anything was ever that simple when it involved Nathan.

Or maybe it was, and I was just too much of a coward to let my coach and my teammates see past the veil to the truth about the last four years.

All I knew right now was that I’d had an opportunity to tip my hand to Coach and let someone see how much hell I’d been through.

But I hadn’t taken the shot.

As I drove from the stadium toward Lake City, I felt like shit. The farther I crawled through traffic, the more I wanted to turn back and go tell Coach the truth. But I didn’t go back because I knew I wouldn’t tell him. My private hell with Nathan was over now. If I couldn’t tell Coach or my teammates while it was still happening, what was the point in telling them now?