Page 54 of Tricky Puck

“What exactly? Don’t lie to me.”

“My relationship with Delaney has nothing to do with the photos creating a wrong impression on social media⁠—”

“Oh, but it does. PR tells me we need to spin this to make you look like the hero defending the girl and the public opinion will overwhelmingly turn to your side.”

Shit. This lie is getting out of hand. I remain reticent.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pick up this phone and make the call to trade you right now?”

“I’ve been playing too well for you to trade⁠—”

“What if I can get Bolio from Montreal for you?” He says it like he’s talked to them. Bolio is having a slow start but he’s coming off his highest scoring season. And he’s married with a family. Fuuuck.

My reticence splinters, cracking me open, exposing my soft gut like a vulnerable animal waiting to be devoured.

“Delaney and I are engaged to be married.” A bold-faced mother fucker of a lie

“Don’t fuck with me, Milano.”

“Her name is Delaney Collins. I met her when I was home in New York.”

“And why should your engagement to her stop me from trading you? Sounds like more reason for me to trade you—like she’s the reason you got yourself in trouble. Proving you’re not committed to hockey.”

What the hell is he saying? I keep my cool and fire back. “I thought you said if she was my girlfriend we could clear up the problem with⁠—"

“Only if it’s true. But an engagement is another matter. Sounds like you’re more committed to her than hockey.”

“No. Don’t play head games with me. We both know how fucking committed to hockey I am right now.” It’s hard to keep the outrage out of my voice, to stand there and let him play his game.

“I’m not convinced of that at all. I don’t even know if you’re really engaged or how committed you are to hockey, to this team. You have a lot to prove and little to no time to prove it.

In the meantime, we’ll deal with the media and you’ll have to answer to them—but not until tomorrow. Report to PR first thing in the morning and don’t say a word about any of this today.”

He’s about to dismiss me and I feel my cool melting with the threat of being traded hanging like a blade close over my neck. I need to convince him I’m committed to the team and hockey.

“I told her we can’t get married until I win the Stanley Cup.”

He raises his brows. “Is that right?”

I nod, my jaw clenched. I’m too far off the reservation of truth to say more. My heart slams against my chest wall as I picture Delaney, then Grandma, and the two of them meeting and hugging. Anticipating that they’ll find a true connection calms me and I take a deep breath, waiting like a man about to be sentenced for unspeakable crimes.

“Bring her to fan day on Thursday afternoon. Everyone needs to see her there, especially the media.”

“I’ll bring her.”

“Is she still in New York?”

“No. She’s here. In New Hampshire.”

His eyebrows lift even higher than before, furrowing his forehead and making him look every bit his age at forty.

“You live together? That would explain things.” He says this as if he’s a reasonable man, but his deep frown says otherwise. “It would explain why you’ve been distracted.”

“I’m not distracted⁠—”

“Save it. I’m the final judge about whether or not you’re distracted.”

“I’m not the only guy on the team with a live-in girlfriend.”