Chapter 31
Bishop
The plane is quiet and most of the guys are taking advantage of the five-hour flight from DC to Phoenix by sleeping in the ultra luxurious reclining seats. I’m sure I’ll drop off too, because it’s almost midnight and I’m exhausted in more ways than one, but right now I’m nursing my third bourbon because my brain won’t turn off.
“Would you like something to eat, Bishop?” Blue asks me from the aisle. I move my gaze from the window and past Erik, who sits next to me, to the bombshell flight attendant. We’d established early on that I’m “Bishop” and not “Mr. Scott.”
“No, thanks,” I say, and then tip the glass back to slug down the rest of the liquor. The ice chunks rattle and I hold the glass out to her. She reluctantly leans across Erik to take it. “But I’ll have one more of those.”
“Of course,” she says, and starts to turn away.
Erik calls out to her. “I’ll have something to eat, Blue.”
She ignores him and disappears into the front galley.
“Give it up,” I tell him. Erik had made the mistake on the flight that started this four-game road trip of propositioning Blue to “a night of singularly mind-blowing passion” or some shit like that. It was lame as hell and Blue rolled her eyes.
Then he made a terrible error in judgment. I know he was only teasing, but Blue didn’t appreciate it when he said, “Come on, Blue. You look like a party girl. Come out and party with me when we land in New York.”
Apparently Blue did not like being called a party girl, because she wheeled on him, leaned in close, and hissed loud enough that only Erik, Legend, Dax, and I heard it. “Don’t ever call me that again.”
Poor dude was taken aback, but I know he was trying to save face. He asked her, “So that’s a no, then?”
Blue had expended her energy, though. She merely stood straight, gave him a cool look down her nose at him, and said, “You’d have to mature by about twenty years before I’d ever consider it, you toddler.”
Dax and I started snickering, but Legend called him out. “Damn, boy…you just got your ass handed to you.”
Since that flight, Blue has steadfastly ignored Erik and refused to serve him. Case in point, another flight attendant comes up and says, “Blue said you wanted something to eat?”
“Nah,” Erik says with a wave of his hand. “Changed my mind.”
The woman merely smirks, because she knew what was going on between Erik and Blue. Hell, everyone on this plane did.
Unperturbed in the slightest, Erik rolls his head to look at me. “You okay, dude? I know the proverbial shit has hit the proverbial fan, but it will all blow over soon.”
“Yeah…I know,” I mutter.
But even knowing it isn’t enough to stop the churning of my stomach and the dread that feels like a lead weight in my chest.
I got a visit from Christian Rutherford to my hotel room early this morning. He asked me to step out into the hall and then proceeded to figuratively knock me flat on my ass.
Apparently things went to shit within the Vengeance organization yesterday. They got sued by Nanette for sexual harassment, specifically naming Dax, Erik, and Sebastian, and Nanette had gone to the press and revealed that Brooke and I had a fake relationship going on. I felt sick when Christian told me the story had first hit the local news stations last night, but the national news had picked it up this morning.
Frankly, I couldn’t give a shit about the sexual harassment suit. It was bogus and everyone knew it. Christian said Dominik Carlson wasn’t concerned at all, so I wasn’t worried.
But goddamn, I was so fucking worried about Brooke. Christian told me that Dominik had talked to her and given her assurances that this wouldn’t affect her position within the company.
I know Brooke, though.
She’s going to take this personally. In fact, I bet she’s blaming the entire lawsuit on herself. She’s done nothing but carry guilt around on her delicate shoulders from the start of this whole fiasco. While she finally stopped telling me she was sorry, I could still see it in her eyes at times.
What’s got me wired and unable to sleep is that I haven’t been able to talk to Brooke. I didn’t call her this morning after Christian left because it would have only been about 4 A.M. her time and I didn’t want to wake her up. So I sent her a text that said, Hey, baby. Christian told me everything. It’s going to be completely fine, I promise. Call me when you get a moment.
I had hoped that would give her enough reassurances when she woke up to start the day.
She never called, though.
And she didn’t text.
Not a single peep out of her all day, despite the fact I’ve tried on a few occasions to call and text her. While the day was busy between a morning practice skate, team meals, warm-ups, physical therapy, and meetings to get ready for the game that night, I had expected to be able to have a few minutes to chat with her.
By the time I was dressed for the game, I was forced to pull Coach Perron aside to ask him about it. He’s very much aware of the shitstorm that’s going on, as is the rest of the team, because Christian made a formal announcement about it at the morning skate. As for what Brooke and I had done, he only said, “You’ll undoubtedly read what I consider to be tabloid fodder about Brooke Perron and Bishop Scott. That’s their business, and if and when they’re ready to make a statement about it, they will.”
I wasn’t fucking ready right then, mainly because I wanted to talk to Brooke first.
I did, however, take a few moments in private to tell Erik and Legend about what was going on. They’d become my closest friends next to Dax and felt they had the right to know. Both of them assured me they were cool and they had my back. It was the only thing that made me feel marginally better today.
So when I pulled Coach Perron aside before the game, I was hopeful he’d be able to tell me something that would settle me down. Just a simple I’ve talked to Brooke and she’s fine would have sufficed.
Instead, he merely glared at me before I could even open my mouth and growled, “Not in a mood to talk to you, Scott.”
“But—”
“Not another word,” he said threateningly with his finger pointed right at me. “Not. Another. Word.”
I slammed my mouth shut, beyond frustrated I wasn’t going to get any help from him.
Blue brings me another bourbon. She asks once again if I’d like something to eat. I’m not sure if she’s heard what’s going on, but I’m thinking she has by the look of sympathy she keeps giving me and the fact that she’s being overly solicitous, like a worried mother. Erik asks for a bottled water from her and she ignores him.
I merely turn my head and gaze out the window at the dark patches below while the world sleeps, broken up by areas of twinkling lights when we fly over cities. I’ve always loved flying at night, as something about the sparkling lights seems sort of festive.
They’re doing nothing for me tonight, though.
Thankfully, I’ve slept off the liquor by the time we land in Phoenix. Grabbing my backpack, which holds my laptop, tablet, chargers, headphones, neck pillow, and other travel whatnot, I wave goodbye to Blue and jog down the stairs to the tarmac.
“Later, dude,” Erik says as I step off to the side and wait.
Dax and Legend come down moments later. I get fist bumps from them.
Tacker gives me a chin lift.
Player after player comes down, along with some coaches and other staff.
And then Coach Perron steps out of the plane and starts to descend the stairs. When he’s three steps from the bottom, he notices me standing off to the side and his lips press into a grim line.
The minute his foot his the concrete I say, “Coach, I need a word with you.”
“I don’t have time to talk,” he growls out the side of his mouth at me.
He gets one step away before I’m grabbing on to his shoulder. Not overly tight, but just to get his attention. I don’t try to lower my voice and I don’t give a fuck who’s listening. “With all due respect, this is about the emotional well-being of your daughter, so you should make fucking time.”
He turns and glares at me.
I add, “Sir.”
Coach heaves a mighty sigh of resignation and I follow him several paces away from the plane so we can have privacy. While I want to demand he tell me Brooke is okay, I start where I should. “I really want to apologize for my deception.”
“You mean ‘our’ deception, don’t you?” he asks, but oddly he doesn’t sound all that put out about it. If anything, he seems…amused?
“Okay,” I say carefully, because now he’s thrown me off. “ ‘Our’ deception. Brooke was so worried about you that she thought she was doing the right thing by making you believe she was in a relationship with me.”
Coach glances over at the stragglers deplaning before looking back to me. He steps in closer and looks me right in the eye. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. You and Brooke were bullshitting no one. At least not me. You may have had others fooled, but I knew from the minute she told me you two had been dating that it was nothing but pure bullshit.”
“Excuse me?” I say, completely stunned.
“Do you not think I know my own daughter, Scott?” His pointed use of calling me by my last name rather than Bishop tells me he’s still very much pissed, though. “Do you think that sweet and caring woman who pretty much took care of me for months after her mother died could make me believe she was dating someone without me knowing it? Especially when she spent all her time either working or checking up on me? I was on to Brooke’s game from the start.”
“Then why didn’t you call us out on it?” I ask him.
Coach looks away again, and this time I think it’s to hide the sadness in his eyes. When he finally gives me his attention again, his expression is composed, but his words are still packed with emotion. “I didn’t call her out because when I walked into that office and saw you two close together, I saw something on her face that I’d not seen in a very long time. And it was happiness. I had been so mired in my own grief that I let Brooke put her life on hold to help pull me out of it. I took advantage of her, and I thought, why not go along with her shenanigans? She clearly liked you. This was obviously going to be exciting, seeing if you could hoodwink me, right?”
“Um…right.” Although I fucking have no clue what’s right or wrong anymore. “But why push the engagement? That was ridiculous.”
“It was fun,” Coach tells me bluntly. “As a father, it was my prerogative to make you sweat a little for even thinking you two could pull one over on me. Consider it my payback for the lie to begin with. Which, by the way, makes me kind of sorry you went and spent money on a ring.”
“I didn’t,” I correct him. “It’s my mom’s. She let us borrow it.”
Coach’s eyes flash with slight surprise, but then it’s gone. I guess it’s neither here nor there to him.
“If you knew about the charade, then can I ask why you seem to be very pissed at me right now?” I ask him.
“Because all this shit is out in the open and part of it is on you,” he tells me. “It’s on Brooke too, and I’m not happy with her either, but I’m also worried about her, which makes me slightly more pissed off at you. Plus you’re the closest to me right now to take it out on. I have no clue if you’re fucking with my daughter’s emotions or not.”
“I can assure you I am not,” I say. “We may have started this out as one thing, but it turned into something else. I care for your daughter a great deal. There are no lies or deceptions when I tell you that, and I’ll tell Brooke too as soon as I can talk to her. I’m headed to her house right now.”
“Don’t bother,” Coach says, and for a moment I think he’s saying it because he’s forbidding me to see his daughter. But then he adds, “She’s in New York.”
“What?” I snarl, completely outraged that she’s in another state and I can’t see her, as well as really fucking pissed he knows this and I don’t. “When did she go to New York?”
“Last night,” he says, and I can hear the empathy in his voice. “She wanted to get away from this fiasco, especially since it was going to hit the news. She asked me not to tell you because she didn’t want to get your head all messed up. She wanted you to play good hockey, and she was right to hold it from you for that very reason.”
“Then I’m headed to New York on the first available flight,” I tell him.
“We have a home game Saturday,” he points out.
I didn’t need the reminder. It was in the wee hours of Thursday morning and I knew this would be tight. “I should be back by then, but only if your daughter is on the plane with me. If not, you can put me on the injured list. My hamstring has been acting up lately.”
Coach snorts, shaking his head. “You know you can’t just miss a game because you’re running off across the country for a woman.”
“Not just any woman,” I correct him. “It’s Brooke, and regardless of the fact she’s your daughter, I’ve fallen in love with her and she actually takes precedence over hockey right now.”
The corners of Coach’s mouth curve, way up high, splitting his mouth into a wide, beaming grin. Satisfaction, pride, and relief shine in his eyes. “Then you better get over to the commercial terminal and book a flight,” he says.
“On it,” I tell him, sticking my hand out. He shakes it firmly, but with an underlying current of gratitude. “See you Saturday.”
I follow Coach to the private terminal, all the other passengers having deplaned. When we reach the doors, I’m stunned to see Dominik Carlson standing just inside. He nods at Coach Perron as he opens the door for us, but his eyes are pinned on me.
Coach walks past him and I stop after I clear the entryway. He lets the door swing shut and sticks a hand out to me, “Dominik Carlson.”
“Pleasure,” I say with a quick handshake. I’d ordinarily be more gregarious and even solicitous of the man who signs my paycheck, but I’m sort of in a hurry and have more important things to worry about.
“I have something for you,” he says, and reaches into his pocket. He places my mom’s engagement ring in the palm of my hand, and my heart clenches painfully. I know it didn’t represent a real engagement, but the fact that Brooke left it behind hurts.
I have no words, so I just grip it in my hand and mutter, “Thank you.”
“She’s torn up,” Dominik says, and I’m stunned he would know something about Brooke’s personal emotions.
“What do you mean?” I ask a little aggressively, but I don’t like the intimate way he seems to know her.
“Thinks this entire fucking fiasco sits squarely on her shoulders,” he says with a shrug. “That’s why she ran to New York. It’s not because she doesn’t want you.”
“She told you that?” I ask in surprise.
“No, but I could tell. She only left that ring behind because she wanted it returned safely to your mother.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I think you should head to New York and go after her,” he says smoothly. “She wanted to give her resignation yesterday, but I refused it. Asked her to think about it. Her job’s waiting, so I think you should go get her.”
“That was already my intention. I was heading over to commercial to book the first flight out.”
Dominik shakes his head. “I’m going to be staying here for a few days to get things settled down. Take my plane.”
“The team plane?” I ask with astonishment.
He shakes his head again and jerks his chin at something behind me. I turn and look to see a shiny, sleek Gulfstream G550 sitting on the tarmac. “My other plane,” he says.
Yeah, sure…his other plane.
Be glad to.