Page 64 of Home Ice

There were too many people standing around. A trainer and one of the equipment guys were shoulder to shoulder by the sponsor board, both looking at the same phone. Jenny from PR turned toward the offices, walking fast with her phone against her ear and her free hand pressed flat on top of her head.

“Something happened,” Varga said quietly. It was a voice he rarely used.

We walked down the tunnel toward the locker room. It was quiet with nobody speaking.

Half the guys were undressed, and most of them had their phones out, which wasn’t unusual after practice, except that nobody was showing anybody anything. Heath stood in front of his stall with one skate off, looking at his phone.

I sat down at my stall and started on my skates.

Kieran glanced at me, just once, from across the room.

I pulled the first skate off.

“Hey.” It was Cross. He’d crossed the room in his base layer, and he crouched in front of my stall the way he crouched in front of a rookie who got cut in the fall. “Don’t read anything yet. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it as a team.”

“Okay,” I said.

Four seconds later, Varga sat down in Pratt’s spot while he was in the shower. He said nothing at all.

He looked at his phone and then turned it face down while he looked at the far wall.

“Somebody should tell me,” I said.

“Rafe.” Mark was in the doorway. He had his jacket on and tie loosely tied. He held a phone in each hand. “Walk with me.”

I took off my other skate and followed Mark out.

He walked fast, past the video room and the framed photos of traded guys. I followed him into the small PR office. He shut the door behind us.

“It’s out,” he said. “The arrangement. Somebody put it up this morning with enough detail that we can’t deny it. It’s moving fast with no obvious original source.” He set both phones on the desk, side by side, and looked at me. “Do you know where this came from?”

I heard accordion music in my head and saw Marta’s glasses on a chain. “No,” I said.

It came out smooth and sounded honest. I didn’t know I could do that with a lie.

Mark nodded, already moving on to the next thing.

He didn’t make it dramatic. The team’s statement would go out within the hour. It would acknowledge that the story was out there while neither confirming nor denying it. That would buy them several hours, but the evening would heat the story up again.

Mark told me how to handle social media. He insisted on no posting, replying, liking, or unliking. He told me I could leave, and when I reached the door, he called to me, “Rafe.”

I turned.

“Third thing.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry. I’m taking responsibility. The arrangement was my idea; I brought it to you, and I told you nobody would get hurt. I believed it when I said it.”

“Nobody lied to me,” I said.

Mark picked up a pen from the desk and set it back down in the same place. “Talk to Hal today,” he said.

He had already called while I was in the office. I’d missed three calls from him, and there were already thirty-eight team chat messages in a thread about Max and me. I didn’t open those, but I opened two from my mom.

One was a photo of frost on the kitchen window. The second was more urgent, sent fifteen minutes ago:

Mom: Call when you can. No rush. We love you.

I called Hal from the truck. He picked up immediately.

“There he is.” His voice was calm. I heard a drawer shut on his end. “First. Are you driving?”