Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

HANSLEY

L emon’s on to something with hugging. After the very long hug in his office today, I almost feel normal when I leave for practice. Honestly, I’d love to have blown off the rest of the day and stayed wrapped up in his arms to soak in his warmth and strength.

But I won’t jeopardize my team’s chances. They’re depending on me and I promised we were going to do big things this year. That means I show up. Always. No matter what I have going on. They come first.

However, as I stand to the side of the ice watching them, I think about what Lemon said. About knowing all his players so he can see when something is bothering them. When there’s something going on and maybe they need a little more support.

I spend the first several minutes just watching them and come to the conclusion that maybe I’ve been a little absent lately. Otherwise, I’d have seen that Hakeem and Seth definitely have something going on now. They tease and flirt and throw innuendos at each other while the rest of the team groans but is also amused.

Leo’s gotten quicker. His speed around the rink is impressive, as is his blade control. But his stick work, even as he just messes around, needs some help.

Damari is filled with smiles. It’s not just a good mood, but something bigger than that. Maybe he’s gotten good news or has accomplished something big.

Braxton is quiet today. I’m not sure if maybe he’s just tired or if there’s something going on in the bigger picture. I watch him for a long time, trying to decide if it’s one or the other. When I catch him yawn for the fourth time, I think maybe he’s just tired. I’m going to have to emphasize that proper sleep is a requirement of the job.

I continue to catalog my players, making mental notes about their appearance, performance, and personality today. I’m going to continue to do this so I can be a better coach to them. So I know when there’s something wrong.

We spend much of practice working on accuracy and agility drills. I don’t want to get too strenuous since we just came from a game yesterday and we’ll have another tomorrow. They need to save their energy and endurance. But these days between games are now for tightening up the loose ends that become revealed during games.

Once my team files out, I spend a while longer on the ice, just skating around. Wondering what I’m going to do with my life now. I spoke to my lawyer this morning to officially file for my divorce and offer everything that Jessica and I have in our name to her, with no compensation.

Part of me thinks that’s shit. This was the start of a life we were building together. And I don’t want any part of it. I’m trying to thrust it all at her instead of splitting it between us. It’s not that I want to forget it, or that it didn’t mean anything to me.

It’s just that she deserves our combined assets a lot more than I do. Not only because she’s only had passive income coming in since shortly after we got married (by her choice, since she wanted to stay home and take care of the house while I worked), but because she deserves those assets more than I do.

I destroyed this marriage. I hurt her.

It’s not like I’m going to be left with nothing. I have everything hockey related. Everything that came from my career or is because of my career. Jessica made sure that our prenups stated that whatever we came in with, we leave with. Whatever we make on our own, we keep on our own—such as all income from my current job, or any endorsements I may get now.

When my watch buzzes, letting me know that it’s getting late, I head for my office and peel my skates off. I’d already shut everything down before practice just so I didn’t have to worry about it after, as I knew I’d not be in the mood to. With my bag in hand, I head for the parking lot.

It’s dark but then, it is November, so it gets dark early. I haven’t stayed at home for the last two nights. I’ve been holed up in Alka’s guest room, per his insistence. He found me sitting in my truck at the grocery store two nights ago, once I left home after talking to Jessica, just staring off into space.

So yeah, that’s where I head. I have my truck because I couldn’t carry a suitcase on the back of my bike. And until I know where I’m going or what I’m going to do, having my clothes with me is important.

I miss the air grabbing at me as I drive down the street, though. Even having the windows open, it’s just not the same.

Pulling into Alka’s driveway, I stare up at the sky for a minute. It’s always so clear at night. I can see stars for days.

It’s strange just walking inside their house. In reality, I haven’t known Alka for long, so letting myself in feels intrusive and awkward. Taking a breath, I gently push open their front door and am greeted by all three men turning their attention and smiles on me.

“Hey,” Alka says as he continues to chop whatever he’s chopping. Eggplant, maybe.

“Hi,” I answer and step inside, closing the door behind me.

“Practice okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. Boys are looking good.”

He smiles. “Ready for tomorrow’s game?”

“I think they are. I’m going to change.” Alka nods and I head toward the bedrooms. I appreciate that the two guest rooms are on the opposite side of the house as the primary suite. I would imagine three men together are loud.

When I return, Alka’s wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “Want to help me at the grill?” he asks.

I give him a nod and he hands me a large tray of various meats. I study it, noting that there’s enough here for my entire team, as I follow him out and he carries an equally large tray of vegetables.

The star of their backyard is the enormous outdoor kitchen with a grill that could fit an entire hog. To my knowledge they haven’t had a pig roast, but they totally could. I’m pretty sure you could frame up some spits or whatever the bars are to hold the pig up.

The grill is already heated, so I set the tray on the counter and watch as he adds one piece of meat at a time. There’s a handful of different proteins and cuts that he arranges over the different levels of fire. He hands me a brush and points to which ones get the wet sauce as he focuses on the vegetables now.

“Are you feeding an army?” I ask.

Alka chuckles. “No. But we don’t like to spend a lot of time cooking during the week so usually, whichever night is light on activities, we load up all the cooking duties for the week then and split it up into different containers we can pick at until the weekend arrives.”

“You take turns cooking?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “We cook together.” When I give him a pointed look that they’re not out here, too, Alka chuckles. “They’re making salads inside. Besides, I wanted to ask how you’re doing without putting you on the spot in front of Roux and Oscar.”

“Ah.” Honestly, I figured as much. I think about the long hug I shared with Lemon and… “I feel okay,” I say. “I feel like this is going to be long, but not for the reasons one would assume in a divorce.”

“Oh?”

I nod absently. She’s not going to take everything I try to give her. Which means we really need to sell it prior and that way I can give it to her in money instead. Though I don’t think she’ll quietly take that, either.

“Want to talk about it?”

Sighing, I shake my head. “No. But thanks.”

Alka nods. “I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through, but I’m here if you need someone to listen.”

“I appreciate it. I just don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet.” Talking about it would mean admitting a lot of shit. Like the fact that I’ve been having an affair. With Lemon. And quite frankly, I’m not entirely sure that either of us—hell, any of us, if I include Jessica—is ready for the questions that will come along with it.

“I’ve been thinking,” Alka says, and I glance at him. “The dodgeball tournament and the auction were hugely successful. Not just in the money they brought in, but also in getting our teams together. RDU has always boasted a community on our campus and while our teams have gotten along, I think they’ve made friends now. I see them mixing all the time.”

I smile. “I’ve noticed too. It’s really great.”

“I know we have the community baby picture contest, but I’ve been wondering what else we can do to get them truly interacting again. There’s one thing that all eight teams have in common and that’s competition. They’re competitors at heart. While on the outside it might have appeared that there couldn’t be any competition with the auction, I heard banter among them as to who was going to get the most bids. Whose date was going to be the best. Who’d be on stage the longest. It was fun for them. I’d love to think of another event to keep that relationship growing.”

“I agree, but honestly, none of those ideas were mine. I have zero suggestions.”

Alka laughs. “Oh, I know. I’m in the same boat. Roux might have some ideas, though. I’d love to collaborate on something.”

“Are you leaning toward anything?” I ask.

He snorts. “Nada. If we hadn’t just had the festival and there wasn’t another one just around the corner, I was thinking something like that. Christmas is coming. Winter, though we get pretty mild winters. It feels like there should be something we can do that’s inclusive of all the teams, inviting and intriguing to the rest of the school and community, that they’ll want to get involved and give us more money.”

“I’m almost indifferent to the money at this point,” I admit. “The team doesn’t need anymore. I’ve covered the costs of everything I’d wanted to upgrade or purchase for the team at this point. And we still have several smaller fundraisers planned throughout the year, so the money would sit in our account until we need it, which is totally fine.”

“Oh, definitely the same. I’ve always lived within a smaller budget, which is why I didn’t worry about the small cut we received. Between the corporate sponsorships and the kids getting themselves sponsored by teachers, we more than covered the loss we’d received at the start. The money from the auction and tournament were already gravy, and we used it to upgrade equipment that was wearing out that we’d normally still use for another couple seasons before we were forced to buy new.”

“You think the other teams are similar?”

Alka shrugs. I watch him as he tends masterfully to the grill, despite holding a conversation. “Probably all except Lemon.”

I chew my lips for a minute before saying, “Okay, hear me out.” Alka gives me an amused glance. “What if whatever we choose next—and I think you’re right, we could totally go big if we had the right idea—what if we give all the proceeds to the football department?”

Alka raises a brow.

“Regardless of how you feel about Lemon, it’s the kids that matter. Our students. That includes his athletes. I can only imagine how expensive it is to run a team with over a hundred athletes.”

I can see the moment he truly considers the idea. Alka is the kind of person you want working at a college. When we were talking about Lemon, he’s instantly sour and not necessarily willing to think about it. But mention the team, the students, and suddenly, it’s a different game.

“You don’t really think he’s going to appreciate it, do you?”

Actually, I think he might. I’ve seen several glimpses of the person Lemon is under the bitter, hostile exterior. I think he’d be touched.

“I think his kids will,” I offer. “I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen him with his team but he’s a very different man around those kids.”

“He hates when we go to his games.”

“Oh, I learned that,” I say, laughing. “I haven’t made that mistake again. But I managed to watch enough of his practice to see that Lemon isn’t always the asshole we all get to see. Not really. So I think, as long as we emphasize we’re doing this for his kids, I think the reception will be very different than you expect.”

He sighs. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but yeah. Okay.”

He starts pulling the meat off the fire and setting it on the tray that I rinsed in the outdoor sink. It’s all red meat, so a little bit of remaining blood is fine, anyway. There wasn’t any poultry and no seafood either.

“Ooh…” Alka says as he’s setting the ribs down. “What if we hold an event like this? Barbeque cook off!”

“How in the world will we make money off that?” I ask, laughing. “Where are we going to get the meat?”

He waves his tongs. “We’ll ask around town and further out for donations—restaurants, butchers, supermarkets, farms. Or we can leave that part up to the participants.”

“I’m still confused about how we’re going to raise money?” I ask.

“That’s where we charge everyone an admission fee to come in and purchase a plate. Like… $5 per ticket and each ticket, you can choose a plate from one of the contestants. And maybe we charge those who want to be judges. I don’t know. But there’s always tons of money given away at these things online.”

“They have sponsorships,” I say, and Alka gives me a grin. Yep, should have seen that coming. “Okay, let’s see what your Roux thinks. He can be our gauge to determine what kind of reception the teams will have.”

“I’d totally participate. Wait till you try these burnt ends!”

As we sit around the table later, eating burnt ends, potato salad, and roasted vegetables, I’m very thankful that Alka insisted I stay with him instead of going to a hotel. I can only imagine being alone with my thoughts for many empty, lonely hours.

Being surrounded by friends? Definitely a better mental space for me.