Page 102 of What We Knew Then
I sit across from Coach as he does something on his computer, as if he’s dragging the silence out on purpose. I try not to shift in the chair, but my leg keeps bouncing anyway, my nerves rattling under my skin. My hands rest on my thighs, fingers flexing like I’ve got somewhere else to be—even though I don’t.
My chest feels tight.
Every second he doesn’t speak stretches longer than the last, and my brain keeps running ahead of me—replaying the flashing lights, the smell of tequila in the car, the look on his face when he pulled up to the shoulder. He looked at me like he wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it for himself—me in the car with Cora, who was clearly drunk.
I stare at the edge of his desk, trying not to think about how easily everything I’ve worked for could unravel again. The silence presses like a brick on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe.
I swallow, my throat dry, and force myself not to look at him like I’m waiting for a verdict.
“I have to be honest. I’m surprised we’re here this morning,” Coach starts in his best disappointed authority voice. I’ve not heard it muchsince starting on the team. “I thought I was pretty clear about Cora. About you staying out of trouble.”
My hands grip my thighs as I nod along, unsure what to say or how to start.
“You told me you were ready for the next step. Scouts. An NHL roster.”
I clear my throat. “Coach, I am.”
“I don’t buy it. Last night seems like immaturity bundled into a couple poor decisions.”
“My grades are good. I’ve never been late or missed anything team related. I’ve shown up here, the way you told me to.” It’s true. If Cora wasn’t in the picture, I don’t think this would be nearly as sticky as it is now.
He sighs out a breath. “The thing is… you have to be an adult. Last night doesn’t seem like that. I expected you to set an example, and then whatever you have going on with my daughter, I mean…” Coach doesn’t finish his thought. He doesn’t need to.
If I didn’t respect Coach Banks as much as I do, I’d have much more to say. Or maybe if I wasn’t tangled up in being in love with Cora. It’s probably a combination.
Leaning forward, I try to choose my words as carefully as I can. “I didn’t have a drop to drink last night. Cora needed a ride home. I was trying to keep her safe.” The last part sounds like a plea.
“Seems like you’ve got a problem. First the accident in Ohio, then this…”
His voice trails off and it feels like I’ve been stabbed. Coach doesn’t know what happened that night—which is my choice—and it makes this so much fucking worse.
“You say you weren’t drinking, but the cop said he saw you swerve.”
Because I was trying to get Cora’s seatbelt back on.
“You don’t believe me.” The realization stings more than I thought it would. It’s deeper than what I thought because he thinks I put Cora at risk.
Shrugging his shoulders, he answers, “I want to. But the chips don’t necessarily stack in your favor.”
I am fucking toast.
My shoulders slump and I sit back in the chair. I don’t think there’s anything I can do or say that would put Coach in a different position. If he thinks I’m the type of person who would drink and drive with his daughter in the car, that might be the final straw.
“Now, you didn’t get a ticket. And I asked the cop to keep this between us, which I think he’ll do. But there has to be consequences.”
Will I even get to finish the year at Great Lakes U? If I’m on scholarship but get removed from the team? Where will I even go?
“I’m suspending you from the team. Two weeks. We’ll call it a healthy scratch. If you can stay out of trouble, you’re welcome back and can work for your spot back on the roster.”
Everyone knows what a healthy scratch means in college hockey: performance issues or misconduct. Clearly, I’ve not had any performance issues after our last few games.
“People are going to know something’s up. Other teams. Scouts. Not sure what keeping the cop quiet will really do.”
Crossing his arms, Coach replies, “Well, they can speculate all they want, but no one will be able to compare this to your last incident.”
Fuck.
“You know I make the team stronger. You have a better chance to win if I’m playing.” I try to appeal to the competitive side of him.
