Page 50 of Diary from an Inked Throne

I spoke as deadpan and dryly as I possibly could. “There was a miscommunication. But we aren’t here to talk about that today.”

“Let’s talk about the Vipers’ sharp decline to the bottom of the competition then. You have to admit, you guys have sucked the last few months.” The smart-mouthed reporter winked at me. “Or were you too dead during that time to notice?”

I opened my mouth to answer but didn’t even get a chance before other reporters chimed in.

“French! How does it feel to be on a team where the only person performing is your mascot?”

French crumpled the tablecloth in his fingers.

X grinned and pumped his fist in the air. “Go Vipers!”

When none of us on the table expanded, he leaned forward to speak into his microphone. “It’s really such an honor for the team to work with me. My speed and agility out there on the ice has been much admired.”

The reporters all laughed.

Anyone who had seen X stumbling around on the ice would have.

X grinned and waved them off. “No, seriously. The guys on the team have become my best friends.”

“I thought the duck was his best friend,” Lynx whispered to me.

I bit my lip, trying to bite back a laugh.

French shot us a look and clapped a hand on X’s shoulder, the media-trained athlete in him coming out to shine. “There’s no doubt about our mascot being the heart and soul of this team. And you’re right, at the moment, he’s the main reason anyone is still coming to our games. It’s no secret we’ve had some troubles behind the scenes, but with our coach back—”

Everyone turned to Lynx. “Where have you been?”

Lynx cleared his throat. “Uh, I had some personal things come up that took me away from the team for a bit.”

A reporter at the back of the room stood. “Is it true you were arrested?”

French whipped his head around to stare at Lynx, covering the microphone with his hand, like that might stop the entire room from hearing him hiss, “Is that fucking true?”

Lynx stared at me helplessly.

This entire conference was wildly spinning out of control. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to talk to the press in the first place.

But now, I needed them.

I stared at the reporter in the back row, though I was well aware of all the others recording me. “Truth is, Mr. Randall. While I would love to sit here and talk hockey with you, that’s not why I called this press conference.”

All the men sitting along the table stared at me.

French shook his head and shoved his seat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

Lynx muttered beneath his breath, “What the fuck, Luca?”

Randall, the reporter at the back of the room, raised an eyebrow. “Then why exactly are we here?”

I glanced over at Nyah, and like she could read my mind, her mouth formed a little O of surprise. But she quickly recovered, nodding once at me, giving me her permission.

I faced the journalists again. “About six weeks ago, my son was born.” I held up my hand before any of them could interrupt to question me further. “I didn’t even get to meet him because within minutes of his birth, my son was taken from his mother, against her will. So that’s where I’ve been.” I motioned toward Lynx. “It’s where we’ve both been for the last six weeks.” I sucked in a breath, choosing my next words carefully, not wanting to out Lynx or Dax or Nyah for the sort of relationship we had. Whatever the four of us had become was nobody’s business but our own. “We’ve been searching for my son.”

A reporter managed to get a question in. “Is this true, Coach?”

Lynx nodded to the crowd. “It’s true.”

Randall frowned at him. “So you’re telling us both the owner and the coach of the team completely abandoned them to go looking for a baby? While I’m sympathetic and do hope the baby is okay, if this is Mr. Guerra’s son, was it really necessary for Coach to go as well? Surely you had a responsibility to your team for at least one of you to stay behind? Your players were counting on you.”