2. Tom

Chapter 2

Tom

S itting in my office, I shuffled through the goddamn plans for next season. The boys did good, no doubt about it—championship fucking win and all that jazz. But here I was, hunched over papers and playbooks, feeling emptier than a goddamn paper bag.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the greys at my temples. Jesus, getting old was a bitch. The victories didn’t give me that high anymore, not like they used to. Used to be I’d ride the wave for weeks, maybe months. Now? A day or two and it was back to this bullshit.

“All right,” I muttered to myself, flipping another page. “Power plays need tweaking. Penalty kills need work, too.” The usual stuff.

It was like being stuck on a hamster wheel—round and round, with no end in sight. Damn team looked up to me like I was some sort of hockey messiah, but inside I felt like a hollowed-out shell. There was always another game, another challenge, another kid looking to make his mark while I stood on the sidelines with nothing but my past regrets keeping me company.

The phone rang, cutting through my thoughts. I snatched it off the desk without checking the caller ID.

“Morgan.”

“Mr. Morgan, this is Dave Patterson from the athletic department.” His voice was chipper, like he’d just won the lottery. “Got some exciting news for you.”

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“We’re thrilled to inform you that you’ll be receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award at the upcoming college men’s hockey awards ceremony. It’s a huge honor, Mr. Morgan. Your dedication and success with the team over the years haven’t gone unnoticed.”

I gripped the phone tighter. “Is that right?”

“Yes! It’s a testament to your hard work and impact on the sport. We’d love for you to attend the ceremony next week and accept the award in person.”

For a moment, I couldn’t find words. Should’ve felt proud, I guess. But all I felt was a hollow ache in my chest. What did this award even mean? A pat on the back for living in my brother’s shadow and pushing kids harder than I pushed myself?

“Sure,” I finally said, forcing the word out.

“Fantastic! We’ll send over all the details. Looking forward to seeing you there, Thomas.”

The call ended with more pleasantries from Dave, but I barely heard them. Dropping the phone onto my desk, I stared at it like it was some alien artifact.

A Lifetime Achievement Award. For what? Standing on the sidelines and barking orders? Didn’t feel like much of an achievement to me. The guys on the ice—they were the ones busting their asses day in and day out. Me? I just pointed them in the right direction.

The emptiness settled deeper as I sat there, seeping into my bones. Maybe it was because, deep down, I knew this wasn’t where I wanted to be. Every accolade felt like a reminder of what could’ve been—what should’ve been if life hadn’t thrown me that curveball.

I stood up, pacing around my office like a caged animal. Anger bubbled up inside me, a familiar companion these days.

“Lifetime Achievement,” I muttered to myself, scoffing at the irony.

Didn’t matter how many awards they threw at me; none of them could fill that void. They couldn’t make up for lost dreams or missed opportunities.

Fuck it.

A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. “Come in,” I barked.

Saint peeked in. “Morgan, you have a visitor.”

Great. Just what I needed. “Who is it?”

“Who is it?”

“Kara Paige,” Saint said, barely able to hide his smirk.

Fucking press. Even if it was Crestwood press, it was still a pain in the ass. “Send her in.”

Kara walked in like she owned the place, all confidence and sharp edges. She had that curious look about her—sharp eyes that missed nothing, blonde hair perfectly tousled, and an air of relentless determination. Saint gave her a long look before he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

I rolled my eyes. Clearly, those two were fucking.

“What’s this about?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

“Nice to see you too, Morgan.” She gave me a once-over and then smiled like she had a secret. “Congratulations on the Lifetime Achievement Award. Big news.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I grumbled. “How the hell did you know about it before I did?”

She shrugged, still smiling that infuriating smile. “Because I’m that good. And Dean Walker insists we do a full spread on you—interview, photoshoot, the whole nine yards.”

“Fuck no.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I just found out two seconds ago and you already have your claws in me? Not happening.”

Kara’s smile widened, clearly enjoying herself. “Mr. Walker insists,” she repeated, leaning against my desk as if she owned it too.

I clenched my teeth together, cursing under my breath. The last thing I needed was more spotlight on my already chaotic life. “What part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you think you have a choice,” she shot back smoothly. “Look, Morgan, this is happening whether you like it or not. You might as well cooperate and make it easier for both of us.”

I glared at her, feeling the frustration bubble up inside me again. “Fine,” I finally said through gritted teeth. “But keep it quick and painless.”

She winked at me. “I’ll try to keep your suffering to a minimum.”

She stopped, tilting her head to the side. "From what I understand," she said, her tone softer, "you get a plus one. Is there anyone you want me to reach out to?"

"Who the fuck do you think you are? My personal assistant?" I barked.

Kara's eyes narrowed, but she held her ground. "I know your son's team didn't make playoffs, so he's available?—"

I glared at her; the anger flaring up like a hot coal in my chest. She finally looked away, though not before giving me a defiant smirk.

"I'll arrange for a photographer and get you a date, probably during the ceremony, to keep things easier," she said, straightening up. Without another word, she left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her.

I sat back down heavily in my chair; the leather creaking under my weight. The room felt too quiet now, the silence pressing in like a physical weight. I ran a hand over my face, trying to rub away the tension.

Nick. The mention of him always brought a storm of emotions. Pride mixed with a seething anger that never seemed to fade. He’d made it to the NHL—a feat I once dreamed of for myself. But our relationship was as strained as ever. Years of tough love and high expectations had built a wall between us that seemed insurmountable.

And then there was Ally.

The memory of that night came rushing back like an unwelcome tide. It had started as a way to forget—one drink too many and the world had blurred around the edges. But it became something more, something complicated and tangled up in feelings I didn’t want to admit existed. And then she disappeared from my life as quickly as she’d entered it.

Leaning back in my chair, I stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together how everything had gone so wrong. My life felt like a series of missed connections and unresolved issues—a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit together.

Nick’s resentment gnawed at me more than I cared to admit. Every time we spoke—or rather, every time we fought—I felt that chasm widen between us. He saw me as nothing more than a critical father who could never be pleased. Maybe he was right.

And after what happened with Ally… Jesus, how could I even begin to address that?

I didn’t know if I wanted to fix things anymore. Didn’t know if I even could. The thought of reaching out to Nick for this event made my chest tighten with anxiety and regret.

But after what he did…

After what he said about her…

I rubbed my temples and let out a heavy sigh, feeling every one of my forty-five years weigh down on me.

Goddamn Lifetime Achievement Award… What good was it if all it did was remind me of everything I couldn’t achieve off the ice?

I leaned back in my chair, remote in hand, and flicked on the TV in my office. The highlight reel of Crestwood’s hockey season started to play, each frame a reminder of the boys’ hard work and dedication. They skated across the screen with speed and precision, executing plays I’d drilled into their heads a thousand times.

The screen shifted to our final game—a championship win that should’ve filled me with pride. Instead, it felt like a hollow victory. Watching them celebrate, I couldn’t shake the emptiness gnawing at my insides.

And then, the reel cut to an unexpected clip. Nick dominating on the ice in his NHL jersey. He moved like a force of nature, every stride powerful and confident. He was everything I’d ever wanted to be—everything I’d wanted for him.

A pang of pride surged through me, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wave of fury. It was like watching my own dreams play out on someone else’s stage. I clenched my fists as Nick scored an impossible goal, the crowd roaring in approval.

My son was a goddamn asshole. After I gave up everything to do right by him and his mom, he still turned out to be an asshole.

Even before Ally came into the picture, things with Nick were rocky because of Janet. My ex had a knack for slithering between us like some goddamn snake, always playing the damsel in distress. And Nick? He was so fucking willing to save her every time.

It made me sick.

She’d call him up with some bullshit sob story about needing money or help with something trivial, and he’d drop everything to run to her aid. He was her baby and her man, all in one fucking package. And he ate it up. How the fuck he won over Ally, I had no fucking clue.

Then again, he lost her just the same.

The clip ended abruptly, cutting back to Crestwood’s celebrations. But my mind stayed locked on Nick—the son who had everything I lost and yet seemed so far out of reach.

I turned off the TV and sat there in silence, feeling the weight of all my regrets pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

The screen went black, leaving me in silence. My mind, restless as ever, drifted away from the celebration highlights and back to her—Ally.

Months had passed since that night, but the memory of her was sharp and clear. Her auburn hair spilling over the pillow, the way her blue eyes locked onto mine with a mix of challenge and vulnerability. She had a way of cutting through my bullshit like no one else.

What was it about her that stayed with me? Was it the guilt, knowing she was Nick's ex? Or was it something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on?

The way she looked at me when we first met—like she saw right through the hardened exterior to the man buried beneath. It had unnerved me, made me feel exposed in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

And she was so goddamn young.

I tried to push those thoughts aside, focus on anything else—the awards ceremony, the upcoming season—but they lingered like a shadow at the edge of my mind. There was a pull towards her that I couldn’t explain, a magnetic force drawing me back to that night.

The guilt gnawed at me. What happened between us wasn’t just a one-time mistake; it felt like something more, something I wasn’t ready to confront. Especially with Nick in the picture.

Especially after what happened when he found out.

And yet, despite all this—despite knowing how complicated and wrong it was—I couldn’t shake her from my mind. The memory of her smile, soft and genuine in those rare moments when she let her guard down. The way she talked about her photography with such passion and dedication.

There was so much I didn’t know about what happened after our encounter. Where did she go? How did she cope? Did she ever think about that night the way I did?

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling again, trying to force these thoughts away. But they clung to me like burrs on fabric, refusing to let go.

The emptiness inside me seemed to grow with every passing second, an abyss that nothing could fill—not awards or victories or even grudging respect from my peers.

All I could think about was Ally and how everything had become so goddamn complicated since that night.

My computer pinged, cutting through the silence. I glanced at the screen, already dreading what I knew was coming. The official invitation for the awards ceremony had arrived via email.

I clicked it open, my eyes scanning over the details. It was all laid out: the date, the time, the venue. The usual bullshit fanfare for a Lifetime Achievement Award. They even included a section on “formal attire,” like I needed a reminder of how to dress.

As I stared at the invitation, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth it. Sure, I’d already agreed to go—mostly to get Dave off my back—but that didn’t mean I had to like it. The thought of all that attention on me made my skin crawl. Cameras flashing, reporters asking questions about my career and my plans. Hell, maybe even about Nick.

About being arrested.

About that fucking confrontation.

The idea of standing up there, accepting an award for a career that never quite reached its peak... It felt like a cruel joke. A reminder of everything I didn’t achieve.

But something inside me compelled me to go. Maybe it was stubborn pride or some misguided sense of duty. Or maybe it was the nagging thought that skipping out would be even worse—having to explain why I didn’t show up, dealing with the fallout from colleagues and players alike.

It felt like this ceremony was a crossroads—a moment where I’d have to face both my professional accomplishments and my personal failures. All those years of coaching, pushing players to be their best while knowing deep down that I never quite reached my own potential.

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. Christ, why did everything have to be so damn complicated? Part of me wanted to just disappear for a while—take off somewhere far away where no one knew who I was or cared about hockey.

But life didn’t work like that.

With a heavy sigh, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling again. Maybe this ceremony could be more than just another hollow accolade. Maybe it could be a chance to confront some of those ghosts that had been haunting me for so long.

Or maybe it would just be another night of bullshit and empty congratulations.

I closed the email and shut off the computer screen, trying to push all these thoughts out of my head.

One thing was for sure—I wasn’t looking forward to this goddamn ceremony.