I don’t know how I can laugh with how shitty I feel, but I do. “I have to make this good, though. He’s been through hell and he deserves an epic apology.”
She grins wickedly. “Damn straight he does.
Watching Matthews get carted away in handcuffs might be one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen. He yelled obscenities at everyone and even spit on one officer. I’m pretty sure I saw that officer give him a right good shove in the gut when he was getting in the car.
This feels like the best kind of retribution since only weeks before, I was being arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.
Now, I change into my gear, about to play my first game of the season. I should’ve been here long ago, but I’m not going to dwell on the past. All that matters is that I’m here now, with a new coach and a team that is now banded together in a way we never were before.
Three more current players came forward after Paulson and I spoke out. Five others that played for Matthews previously also came out with grievances against him.
I wish now I would’ve done something sooner—believed in myself—but I can’t undo the past and the only thing I can do is learn from it.
My sister … Fuck. I owe her everything. She dug and dug and dug until she got enough proof that there’d be no doubt that Paulson and I were telling the truth once we went public. She gave Matthews no way to slander us further. I owe her everything.
Paulson claps his hand down on my shoulder pads. “You ready, James? This is your big day.”
My chance to redeem myself.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m ready.”
I’ve learned that Greg Paulson is a decent fucking guy. Fuck, a lot of the players I never got along with before are great now. I’m learning that Matthews hatred had seeped down into all of us. A team is meant to be a family and we weren’t. I think we’re getting there now, though. It’s just going to take more time. Something I have plenty of now that I’m not worried about losing my contract. As long as I play well until the end of the season I know I’ll get a renewed contract and I have no doubts that I’m going to kick some ass. It’s been too long.
Our new coach—Coach Thompson—stands on a chair and yells above the chaos to be heard. When the room quiets he finally speaks.
“I don’t have much to say, but what I do have to say is important so listen up. This is our first game together, let’s make each other proud.” He claps his hands together and jumps from the chair.
Paulson stands beside me and nudges my shoulder with his and our pads clink together. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”
Even the frigid air from the ice isn’t enough to cool me down. I’m on fire and my body drips with sweat by the second period. My parents, sister, Michael, and Coach Harrison sit front and center in the stands cheering me on. It feels good to know I have a solid support system. But there is one important person missing.
Grace.
I’ve picked up my phone a hundred times to call her—not to mention all the times I’ve gotten behind the wheel of my car to go see her—but I don’t know what to say. Things ended so suddenly and awkwardly between us.
All the practices with Coach Thompson haven’t helped matters, either. He’s been working us hard, wanting to get us into better shape and get used to his coaching style. Suffice it to say, I’ve been exhausted every evening when I’ve gotten home. It’s all been worth it, though, and I know that tomorrow I’ll finally figure out what to say to her. I have the whole day off so going to campus shouldn’t be a big deal. I just want her back. I want her to forgive me. I understand that she might not. Even though the rape allegations were nothing but a lie, it still hurt her and she might have decided I’m not worth that kind of pain.
Paulson slings the puck into the goal and the buzzer sounds. Another point for us. The period ends and we start down the tunnel.
I’m sweaty, and tired, but riding the biggest adrenaline high of my life. We’re playing like champions tonight and I think, if we keep this up, that we might make it to the finals. Maybe it’s a long shot, but I’m allowed to hope.
Our break ends and we’re back out on the ice.
I get in my position and focus on the opposing player I want to take out and that’s when a fucking Sour Patch Kid lands in front of my skate.
I stare at it, wondering how the fuck it got there, when another one drops a few feet away.
“What the hell?” another player mutters.
My gaze is drawn to the stadium stairs to my right and that’s when I see her.
“Grace,” I breathe, and her name comes out sounding muffled around my mouth guard.
I don’t give a fuck that we’re in the middle of a game, I skate over to the bench and climb over the wall. I spit out my mouth-guard and drop my helmet on the floor along with my hockey stick before climbing to the other side to the hall. Grace saw where I was going and stands above me, the black rails keep her away from me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.