Chapter 3

I watched Kenji leave,frustrated he wouldn't stay and that I hadn't managed to speak. Why did I even ask if I could talk to him? I should've just blurted everything out.

Kenji, I'm bi.

Kenji, I'm hiding.

Kenji, I really hate your coach.

Kenji, did I really see you make yourself sick? Are you okay?

Kenji, can I look after you?

Kenji, please can we talk?

"Eyes front,"Dad muttered behind me.

I had to force myself away from staring at the door Kenji had passed through, and back to Coach, who was heading this way along with another man, who extended his hand.

"Shaun Stanton? My name is Leo Bryant, and I work with Edge Sports Management."

"For real?" I said, flustered, as I shook his hand.

"For real," Leo smiled.

"Sorry, I'm just… Tennant Rowe is one of my favorite players, and his son, Soren is here, on the team, I mean, and…"

"Take a breath, kid," Coach Sennett said with a laugh.

"Sorry, yes, I'm Shaun."

"Coach Sennett here asked me to come watch you play."

"He did?" I glanced at Coach, who offered me a smile, then scowled at my dad, who'd crowded me and extended a hand to shake the agent's as well.

"Ed Stanton," dad began, "I've had professional playing experience."

Leo didn't seem to recognize him, which I bet dad hated. Still, they shook hands, but Leo soon focused back on me. "Have fun tonight," he said, and then, Coach Sennett urged him away and over to the seating where the two men laughed and did this whole bro-hug thing.

"This is it, son," Dad said and thumped my arm. "Finally."

"I've had scouts watch me before." Why did I sound so dead? Where was my enthusiasm? Why could I only think about Kenji and the way he'd stared at me as if I'd broken his heart?

"Yeah, but his agency reps some of the big guys, okay? You'd better play the best you can tonight, kid."

"Sure, Dad." Again, where was the life? Why did I feel so…

… wrong?

"I mean it, kid, don't fuck this up for us."

"Okay."

What else could I say?

* * *

The restof the team were congregating by the door onto the ice, waiting for their captain. I headed over, removed my guards, and then, everyone gathered around me, and I tapped the floor with my stick.

"Okay, we know these guys. Soren, eyes on number ten, okay?"

"Yes, Cap."

"Don, Felix, keep it tight in special teams. Tyler, you're small and fast, and they hate you buzzing around, so stay on net, okay?"

"Yes, Cap," they chorused.

"Coyotes on three." We all reached into the middle of our loose huddle, touching hands, and then, as one, we all shouted "Coyotes!" before taking the ice. I skated a lazy circle at our end, watching the Sunbury Cats down at the other end. The Cats were a formidable team—an opponent we matched—and the excitement of the game curled in my belly. I caught a flash of pink in the crowd, and though I knew it couldn't be Kenji—he never watched our games—my heart skipped until I saw a mom with a bright pink bobble hat. Not Kenji.

The disappointment followed me into the first period, and somehow, by the end of it, my lackluster performance and disconnected thoughts meant the Coyotes were two goals down.

We only just scraped those two back in the second period, and if we didn't pull ourselves together, we were going to lose this.

Wait. If I didn't pull myself together.

I paced the locker room in the second break, not quite connecting with the team, knowing in my heart that Leo out there seeing me at my worst, but not finding it in myself to care.

All I could think about were dark brown eyes and pink hair, and the hurt in Kenji's eyes. Fuck!

"Okay," I said and stopped pacing, all eyes were on me, even Coach, who'd stayed quiet this break so far. "Sorry," I added, and there was murmuring.

"Sorry for what, Cap?" Soren asked, his frown deep.

"For me, for this, for… let's get back out there and take this back. You with me?"

The team gathered around in that loose circle again.

"Coyotes!"

I could feel the weight of the team's expectations resting on my shoulders as the captain, and the agent who could be assessing me, a bemused coach, and my dad at the glass trying to catch my eye so he could tell me to stop fucking up. The Cats weren't interested in letting us pass, and we were two minutes out from the end before we gained proper control.

Soren zipped across the ice, scanning for an opening. I saw him make eye contact with Don, who was hovering near the blue line, ready for the pass. Soren flicked the puck towards him, and Don caught it on his stick. Without hesitation, Don sent a crisp pass my way, and I was right there, ready to receive it.

It glided towards me, and the pressure built because I had to make this shot count. With a quick flick of my wrist, I maneuvered it past the opposing defenseman and onto my stick. I could see the Cats' goalie, Evan, eyeing me warily from his position in the crease. He was good, but I knew I could beat him.

I skated closer to the net, the crowd noise deafening. I could feel my heart pounding as I lined up the shot and Evan shifted a little, trying to anticipate any move I could make, but with a swift motion, I released the puck, sending it soaring towards the top corner of the net.

Time seemed to slow as I watched the puck sail through the air. It was a perfect shot, and I could see the horror on Evan's face as it whizzed past him and into the back of the net. The crowd erupted into cheers, and my teammates rushed to congratulate me as I skated back to the bench.

With only a minute left on the clock, the momentum shifted in our favor. The Cats' defense was rattled, and we took advantage of their disorganization to score another goal in the final moments. When the buzzer sounded and we'd won, the sense of triumph and relief was overwhelming.

As we skated off the ice, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in the team. Somehow, they'd worked around my lack of attention and kept us in the game, and it was moments like those that reminded me why I loved this game, and why I was proud to be their captain.

I skated over to the bench, still buzzing from the adrenaline of the game, but my excitement faded quickly as I saw my dad waiting for me, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. I sighed inwardly, bracing myself for the criticisms I knew were coming. It wasn't that I didn't value his opinion, but sometimes it felt like he was more focused on pointing out my mistakes than celebrating the wins, and I was growing tired of everything.

"You were sloppy out there, Shaun," he started, not even waiting for me to sit down. "You missed that pass in the second period, and your positioning on defense was terrible."

"Yeah, I know, Dad," I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral. "I'll work on it for next time."

Before my dad could launch into another round of critiques, Coach Sennett approached, followed closely by Leo, who smiled.

"Nice recovery," he said and patted my arm.

"The team let him down," Dad snapped.

I stiffened. I knew he'd be like this, but I had to ignore the tension radiating from my dad. "I let the team down," I blurted, and my dad went scarlet. "I got in my head, and it was bad."

"That Soren kid, just because his dad plays for?—"

"I like that you saw that in yourself and recovered," Leo interjected and left my dad blustering. "Not everyone your age would be that self-aware. I was impressed by your performance out there today. Have you ever considered playing college hockey?"

My dad jumped in before I could respond. "Actually, we've been looking into Crestwood Sports Academy outside Toronto with a view to QMJHL. Shaun's goal is to go straight to the NHL."

Leo met my dad's gaze, not backing down. "I understand your aims, Mr. Stanton, but I was speaking to Shaun," he said. "I'd like to hear his thoughts on the matter, given he'd probably have his pick of scholarships should he choose the college route."

I shifted uncomfortably, caught in the middle of their exchange. On one hand, I owed Dad, and I always wanted the NHL—it was our shared ambition.

I think.

I knew that college hockey could be a valuable opportunity, and if there was a scholarship, then…

"I… uh… what Dad said… but… maybe," I stammered, feeling the weight of their expectations bearing down on me.

Leo nodded, and it seemed he was satisfied with my half response, although my dad's gaze was boring holes in me. "That's understandable. Take your time to consider your options." He handed me a card, which Dad took from me, so Leo, with exaggerated patience, handed me another one. "You understand, if you decide on an agent at this stage, then you're ineligible to go the college hockey route."

"I do."

"Okay, then call me if you'd like to talk informally about your options, about what we can do for you to support you in whatever you choose."

"Not without an adult present," Dad snapped.

Leo inclined his head. "Of course."

"No one decides anything for Shaun, but me."

Leo's eyes widened a little. "I'm sure what you're saying is that Shaun gets to decide his path in life. Right?"

"With my guidance," Dad sneered, going on the defensive.

Great way to rile up my dad, who'd gone from smiling to temper in an instant—and so Leo would become yet another person my dad was going to rail against.

I glanced at Coach Sennett, who gave me an encouraging nod. Suddenly, the prospect of college hockey seemed a valid one, even if my dad was near imploding next to me, and even though it went against everything I'd worked for.

"Thanks, Mr. Bryant," I said, trying to muster up some genuine enthusiasm in the face of my dad's anger. "I'll definitely keep it in mind."

Leo extended a hand, and we shook. "Keep the card, and call me Leo, okay?"

As Leo and Coach Sennett moved off to talk to some of the other players, my dad turned to me, his expression unreadable.

"College hockey, huh?" he said, his tone laced with skepticism and laughter. "What a freaking joke, and you realize that asshole agency supports those freaking queer players? What the fuck, Shaun, that's not proper hockey."

I shrugged, unsure of how to respond. I knew he was talking about Soren's dad and other players on the Railers, and others down in Boston. Deep down, I knew I needed to explore all my options, and part of me still wanted to believe I could make it straight to the NHL, and I knew that would keep Dad happy.

I owe him.

"Yeah, Dad," I replied. "It's just something to consider."

Or not.