6. Tate

“Garrison!” Coach Braddock barks as I hop over the boards to take my spot on the bench. “Can you get your brain in the game now, for fucksake!”

I give him a solid nod. Crew shoots me a wary glance as he hops over the boards with Nash. I”ve been playing so shitty this game that Coach moved me off their line. We are the first line of forwards, the three of us together. Nash and Crew are in their own battle for the most face-off wins this season. I am their trusty winger. Coach loves to put me on right-wing because I”m a leftie and it fucks with the other team”s defense. But I”ve made not one but two sloppy passes this game, which caused a turnover and I”ve taken two penalties—hooking and slashing. One of the penalties gave the Barons a goal to add to their four-two lead.

It’s not just my worst game of the season, it’s probably the worst game of my professional career. And tomorrow I have to leave for a road trip. The first since Dylan and Mallory showed up in my life five days ago. The adjustment to having a son is why I’m playing like garbage. He’s doing this thing now called sleep regression and he’s been waking up at all fucking hours. Mallory is sharing a room with him, so she handles it, but it wakes me up. That boy has some serious lungs on him. Also, because I need to get used to this as a dad, I’ve been getting up and knocking on her door every time I hear him, so I can help. She’s let me try twice and both times his screaming got worse, so now she tells me to just stay in bed. It’s fine. But it isn’t fine. I should be able to handle this without her. And one day soon I will have to.

And there’s been endless trips to the grocery store and Target and my house is overflowing with kid shit now. I don’t mind, but it’s an adjustment. And now, I’m constantly worrying about leaving her and him alone in LA while I’m on this road trip. I keep thinking of things I need to tell her or show her before I go, things about the complex like where to toss the garbage or recycling or how to drive my car because I can’t leave her without wheels.

All of these things have blown up my focus like a nuclear bomb. No one else knows that though because I haven’t told a soul about what’s going on. Well, except my lawyer. This guy my agent recommended when I told him I had a friend who just found out his girlfriend is pregnant and wants a legal custody arrangement. Yeah, I pulled the “I have a friend” routine, but my agent bought it hook, line, and sinker because everyone knows I’ve never had a girlfriend.

The guys on my new line for the rest of this game start to get up, as my old line starts to come off. A hand lands on my shoulder. “Piakoski you’re in for Garrison this shift.”

My veins flood with frustration and I look up at Coach Braddock. He’s staring down at me. “Angry? Good. Channel it.”

A couple shifts later he orders me to head out with Nash and Crew and I force everything out of my brain except hockey. It works. I set up Nash for a glorious goal. Unfortunately, four minutes later, the Barons score again and there”s no time left to win it. The final buzzer goes and it”s over. I feel like the entire loss is my fault and I hate myself. That”s become a common new feeling that I”m not a fan of but it”s all I seem to feel lately. Especially when I try to bond with Dylan.

The team is relatively silent as we march our way to the locker room. As soon as everyone is sitting, and before the media comes in, I clear my throat. “Sorry guys. I should have been better out there tonight.”

“Yeah you should have,” Nash replies firmly and he scrubs his sweaty face with a towel. “And I should have scored in the second not sent it wide.”

“Twice,” his twin notes. Nash nods as Crew adds, “And I shouldn’t have been so fucking slow in the first. We all need to figure out where we personally went wrong and make sure not to do it again. No one person owns this loss. We all own it.”

”Media time!” Adam announces as he walks into the room. Adam is the media director for the team. He”s all business. He doesn”t seem to even like hockey, but he loves public relations and media. He worked for a movie studio before he joined us at the start of the season. I know I”m going to have to loop him, and the coaching team and management, into this new development in my personal life. Because our lives as hockey players aren”t always our own. Even here in Los Angeles, where the majority of people honestly don”t give two fucks about hockey, players still manage to find their way into the gossip sites every now and then. Like when Crew”s engagement ended abruptly last year.

Yeah, Adam and the team will want to set the tone and narrative around Dylan and my leap into single parenthood. I know that the media finding out before they do will be catastrophic to my tenure on this team and I do want it to be a tenure. The Quake drafted me when I was eighteen and made it clear then they hoped to make this a long-lasting relationship. I”d always taken that very seriously. I wanted to be a franchise player somewhere. The rare breed that starts and ends his career in the same place. This new development could ruin that if I don”t handle it properly.

The media tonight, of course, starts with me. Everyone wants to know what”s up. Why I was so subpar. This confirms, despite Crew”s words, it”s my performance that everyone noticed. I fed them the usual bullshit lines a player gives when they suck—it was an off night. These things happen. I will do better. I”m not worried this is the start of any kind of long-term downswing.

We shower and change, and eventually, the words between players go from grunts and muttering to full-blown conversations. Crew and Nash are debating where to go out and blow off the stench of the shitty game. Nash turns to me. ”Feeling like some burritos at Casa Rosa? The crowds should have dispersed by now.”

I love the Mexican restaurant by the arena. We rarely go to it on game nights because fans are usually milling about, but on nights we lose they dissipate fast. I could use one of their amazing chicken burritos or a few of their fish tacos but I know I have to get home to Mallory and Dylan. “Another time. I have something to do.”

“What do you have to do?” Nash looks perplexed.

“Or is it a who?” Crew asks with a broad grin as he pulls a dress shirt on over his tattooed arms and torso. “You’ve been M.I.A from everything for a week. I think you’ve found a new playmate.”

I huff. God, I wish it was that simple. I shake my head. “Nah. I’ve got a friend from home visiting and… I’ve just been busy is all.”

I shrug into my blazer, tucking my tie in my pocket because I can’t be bothered to put it on again. I shove my feet into my dress loafers, sock-less. The coach walks into the room and claps his hands to grab everyone’s attention. The room falls silent. “Look, tonight was not great. It’s gonna happen. Shake it off. But know that I expect to finish this season on a high note. And then we have playoffs. So, I’m locking us down right now, boys. We’ve got eight games left in the regular season but starting tonight we’re in playoff mode. Curfews, extra strategy meetings, morning skates every day except travel days, no excuses.”

No one complains. No one reacts at all, at least externally. Internally I am groaning, big-time. How the hell can I manage that and figure out a routine in this new home life of mine? Plus I have lawyer meetings and I have to get Dylan and me into a lab and do a DNA test for the courts. Mallory won”t stay forever, and I”m not going to be able to get a nanny, get the legal paperwork in place, find a more kid-friendly home, and tell my family and team before playoffs start.

Coach turns and exits and then I feel a hand on my shoulder. Crew stares at me with confusion. “You need to talk about something? You look kind of stressed and you never looked stressed.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to figure out,” I tell him and before I can elaborate someone else is calling my name.

It’s the security guard outside the locker room door. “You have a visitor.”

“What?” I panic and march to the door. Is it Mallory? Did she come here? Is something wrong with Dylan?

I step into the hall and am confronted with an entirely different Echolls. Chance Echolls, Mallory”s dad. He”s the general manager for the Brooklyn Barons, so I guess he came with the team on the road trip. But why the fuck is he coming to our locker room to look for me? He isn’t smiling, but I wouldn’t expect him to. We aren’t friends. In fact, he hates my dad with a burning passion and they came to blows when they were about my age—over my mom.

“Can I help you?” I ask, trying not to sound too rude.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says and folds his arms over his chest. His suit crinkles and creases like the corners of his eyes as he frowns. “I know you used to be friendly with Diana Hutchens, my daughter’s best friend.”

“Yeah. A long time ago,” I reply as Quake employees and teammates’ friends and relatives walk by us, all of them doing a double-take. This is highly abnormal, having a person from the opposing team’s management yakking with a Quake player in the hallway, or at all. “I haven’t seen Diana in almost two years.”

“She died.”

“I heard,” I stop myself from adding ‘I’m sorry’ because I would bet money that Mr. Echolls doesn”t give a shit that his daughter”s best friend died. ”It”s horrible news. She was a good person.”

“Yeah. Well, I was never her biggest fan,” Mr. Echolls replies without a hint of empathy. “But my daughter loved her like a sister, and I don’t think she’s taking the news well. But I don’t know because she isn’t really talking to me. I’m worried about her.”

”Okay,” I say because I don”t know what else to say. I mean, I haven”t even asked Mallory what she”s told her parents. Do they know she”s here? Did they know Diana had a kid? Where do they think Mallory is, currently?

“She said she wanted to stay in England until she was completely healed but… I think she’s back in the States,” Mr. Echolls tells me and the frown on his face falls and he looks worried. Like a dad should. “She answered her brother Beckett’s FaceTime two days ago, and it would have been, like, eight at night in London but she was outdoors somewhere and it was daylight. Full sun.”

“Okay.” I think it’s the only word in my vocabulary suddenly.

”I”m asking if you know where she is?” he snaps like I”m an idiot not getting the point of this conversation. ”You and Di were the only people she stayed close to from home. I know she and Diana visited you here once. I wondered if she”s talked to you since Diana died. Has she emailed or texted or anything?”

”I can tell her to contact you if I hear from her.”

“Thanks,” he grunts and turns to leave without another word.

And then something he said snags in my brain. “Wait! Mr. Echolls!”

He turns to glare at me over his shoulder. I clear my throat. “What did you mean she was staying in England until she was completely healed? Healed from what?”

He blinks and his face contorts with anguish for a flash before it falls back into its standard annoyed look. “Mallory was in the car with Diana when they had the accident. Thankfully her injuries were superficial. A few broken ribs, some cuts from the broken glass, and a mild concussion. My wife and I were all set to fly there immediately when we heard but Mallory didn’t want us to.”

He looks genuinely hurt when he shares that and I almost feel for him. But I know this guy isn’t a great dad. I have been friends with Mallory long enough to know he failed her in a lot of ways, but he clearly loves her. “Oh. Well, like I said, I’ll tell her to contact you if I hear from her.”

“What’s this about?” I hear Coach Braddock’s no-nonsense voice behind me and turn around.

“Personal business.” Mr. Echolls marches off, back toward the visiting team’s section of the arena.

Braddock looks rightfully pissed as he glares at me. “Coach, he’s from Silver Bay. My hometown. I’m friends with his daughter and…”

“Do not!” He raises his hand to quiet me as I approach him. “Do not tell me you are dating the daughter of an opposing team’s general manager and who we may have to face in the playoffs.”

“No. I am definitely not dating his daughter.” Finally, I can say something that isn’t a lie. “She’s a friend and she was living in London with…. my ex. And they were in a car accident.”

His stern face softens and his blue eyes grow sympathetic. “Shit. I’m sorry. Is everyone okay?”

“No. My ex…” Calling Diana my ex is a stretch and she would laugh in my face if she heard it, but calling her anything else is messy. “My ex died and Mallory, his daughter, was injured and he was just… well, touching base with me. About all of it.”

Coach Braddock nods and grips my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to jump on you. I had no idea. I just thought of the media speculation if you two were caught talking so close to playoffs.”

“Fair,” I say with a nod. “I didn’t mean to make problems. I honestly didn’t know he was going to want to talk to me about it. And don’t worry. I’m loyal to the Quake. I know after tonight’s performance, you might be wishing I wasn’t on the team, let alone loyal.”

“Shut up, kid,” Coach chuckles. “We all have off days. I may have won back-to-back Cups and been a Conn Smythe and Art Ross trophy winner, more than once, but I shit the bed too on occasion, trust me. Like I said in the room, shake it off and do better.”

“Intend to,” I promise and with another squeeze of my shoulder he starts to leave. But he stops and turns back to me.

“You know we have a sports psychologist on staff right?” Braddock informs me and I nod. “If you need to talk out any feelings about your ex dying. It’s tough to lose anyone you know, and we pay these guys to handle more than just on-ice issues for our team. Use Dr. Vance if you need to.”

”Okay.” I turn and head out to the parking lot. I wonder, briefly, if Dr. Vance could help me with my feelings about Diana”s death, finding out I”m a dad, and how to deal with it all? I mean, I know my cousin Conner sees a shrink. And Grady. For hockey shit I assume. I mean I thought that”s all these people dealt with.

I pull out of the underground parking and onto one of the downtown Los Angeles streets and tell my car. “Call Conner.”

My cousin Conner is located in Maine. He was traded there last year from Brooklyn. Well, actually he wasn’t traded, he was put on waivers, which is like getting dumped. It basically ruined his self-confidence and almost drove a rift between him and the entire family. He thought we were all judging him or that he wasn’t worthy or some shit. Anyway, luckily Portland picked him up and he’s doing great there.

”Hey Tater, since when do you use your phone for calling?” he questions immediately as he answers, instead of saying hello. ”Aren”t you the one with the voicemail that says ”I”m sorry but this phone is only for texts and video calls. Hang up and do one of those two things if you need to reach me?”

“I decided to go old school tonight,” I reply tersely and dive right in. “You see a shrink still?”

”Hey, how are you Con? How”s Mac? That hat trick you scored on the weekend was top-notch, buddy,” Conner says, pretending to be a better version of me than the one I”m giving him. And then he answers for fake me. ”Thanks, Tater Tot, that hat trick felt pretty damn good. How”s the quest to crush Uncle J”s record going? How”s the weather in Cali?”

“No one calls it Cali except people not from California,” I remind him. “Sorry. I had a shit game. I’m… a grump-ass.”

I hop on the 10 freeway which is busy, as always. The only part of LA that grates on my nerves is the traffic at weird hours, like ten at night on a Tuesday. Where the hell are all these people going?

“One shit game so you call me at one in the morning, my time, and you want to shrink your head?” Conner is laughing at me now, which does nothing to improve my mood. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Sorry. I know you don’t have a game tomorrow and you’re a bit of a night owl. And it felt like an emergency. It’s not about the one game.” I sigh. “Look, forget it. I’ll call Grady. He’s way less judgey than you.”

I’m about to punch the end button on the screen on my dash when Conner speaks again. “Hold up! Hold up! I’m sorry. I’m being a dick.”

“You are.”

“Sorry. Again. Honestly.” Conner’s voice loses its teasing tone. “To get back on track, yes. I see a sports psychologist. Ever since the waivers bullshit last year. And I highly recommend it, for on-ice issues and off.”

“You have off-ice issues?” I ask, floored because Conner is the absolute most calm, cool, and collected Garrison… hell, human, I have ever known. I’ve always felt like the expression ‘Golden Boy’ was created for him. He’s smart, talented, level-headed, and life just always seems effortlessly perfect for him.

”Dude, seriously?” He seems one part miffed and one part stunned that I”m questioning it. ”I was about to become the first Garrison to fail at hockey. I”m the eldest of a generation that, sometimes, seems far more talented than my old ass. I was trying to woo a woman far out of my league when my confidence was in the toilet. Yeah. I had off-ice issues.”

Hearing him talk like that blows my mind. We all knew he was still the best of the best, even if the Barons weren’t willing to admit it. “The only thing that’s true in that statement is that Mac is kind of out of your league.”

“She is, and fuck you,” Conner laughs. “So you gonna tell me what’s up? If it isn’t just an over-dramatic reaction to one shitty game?”

“I…” I want to tell him so badly, but I can’t risk it. If my mother and father find out about their grandchild from him, or Mac because I know he shares everything with her, then I’ll never forgive myself. So I keep the depths of my turmoil to myself. The surface stuff is enough. “Diana Hutchens died in a car crash in the UK and I’m kind of all over the place about it.”

“What? Shit. Tate… that’s horrible,” Conner says and he, once again, sounds genuinely concerned for me. “You guys were close.”

“Yeah. I mean, we were…” I pause. “It’s just fucked. I didn’t… I feel guilty that we weren’t more, you know. Like I don’t know… I just… I never thought I would never see her again.”

“Did you want more with her?” He seems genuinely shocked, which is fair.

“No,” I admit and I envision Dylan’s cute little face as I exit the freeway and I feel like I’m drowning in grief again. “And I hate myself for that.”

”Did she want more?” Conner asks gently. ”I know some people, men or women, agree to the no-strings thing but really, they want strings. I can understand feeling guilty if Diana was like that and you weren”t and you never got the chance to talk it out.”

“No. I mean… she had the opportunity to try and…” I stop before I say too much. “No. She never pushed. Never wanted more. I just… I don’t know. I’m messed up and need an ear. And no offense but not someone named Garrison.”

“Fair enough,” Conner says, his tone soothing and most importantly understanding. Then I hear a muffled sound. “Sorry baby. I’m coming to bed now. Promise.”

There are more muffled sounds and a distant female laugh. I know it”s Mackenzie, his girlfriend. When he speaks to me again, it”s crazy but I can hear the happiness in his voice. ”I will text you my shrink”s contact info ASAP.”

“We don’t like the term shrink!” I hear Mac call out and I cringe because she’s now going to know I asked for a psychologist. But she’s a full-fledged, practicing psychiatrist so she must not go blabbing about stuff like this, right? Doctor oath or some such crap.

“Sorry Princess,” Conner calls out.

“I don’t like Princess either!” she yells back but her voice is light and happy.

Their whole vibe is nice, cute even. Kind of delightful, but utterly foreign to me, and that doesn”t bug me one bit. I don”t mind not knowing what a committed relationship is like. I have other things to concentrate on, a lot of other things now. ”Thanks, Con, and I don”t need to ask you and Mac to keep this out of the family group chats. All of them.”

“Yeah of course,” Conner replies solemnly. “You don’t need to ask. And Tater, if you do ever want to unload on a Garrison, I’m your man. Seriously. Day or night.”

”I appreciate it cuz,” I say and my shoulders relax a little as I say goodbye and turn onto Abbott Kinney. I have a bit of a plan. I mean, I have a start. Between the lawyer and the psychologist maybe I can make this work, in my head and real life.