Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I had actually thought there might be hope as just last month, Tacker and I spent Christmas Eve with Legend, who had just had the surprise of his life by finding out he was a father. It’d been a low-key evening. Both Legend and I were surprised by how taken Tacker was with Charlie, the newborn baby girl who had just come into Legend’s life. I thought Tacker had finally been starting to settle in and become part of our family.
I thought he was starting to leave his pain and guilt behind.
I’m not thinking that now.
The door we’re standing beside opens, and Bishop and I both step back. Coach Perron walks out followed by one of the team trainers, Ronnie Nuss. He has an emergency first aid kit in his hand.
He brushes by Coach, then jogs down the hall to assist Tacker.
“What happened?” Coach asks Bishop.
In any other situation, Bishop might think to stretch the truth a little to make things seem a little more positive if it were possible, but there’s no sugarcoating this. Besides, Bishop’s fiancée, Brooke, just happens to be Coach Perron’s daughter, so there’s no way he’s going to lie to his future father-in-law.
“He’s drunk,” Bishop says.
Coach flinches while muttering a curse word.
Bishop finishes with, “He drove the truck into the barricade.”
“God Almighty,” Coach whispers with utter empathy. He’s just as aware of Tacker’s demons as we are, and while he’s a tough-as-nails son of a bitch as our coach, he cares for his players deeply.
We all focus on Tacker. With a fierceness I’ve never heard before, Coach Perron grits out, “This ends here. That man is getting professional help whether he likes it or not.”
Chills take hold of my body when he leaves Bishop and me to stride down the hall toward Tacker. We watch as he squats in front of his star player—the captain of our team. His hand goes to his shoulder and while we can’t hear what he’s saying, I imagine they’re appropriate words of comfort.
When the outer door opens, a Phoenix police officer followed by two paramedics enter.
This just fucking sucks.
“I’m going to go get my gear,” Bishop says wearily. “I’ll see you in the locker room.”
“Yeah, sure.” As I turn away from him, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Regan.
She answers just as I’m stepping into the locker room. “Hello.”
“Hey.” My voice sounds old and tired. Part of me is pissed Tacker is fucking up our team.
“What’s wrong?” she asks with clear concern in her tone. She’d apparently realized my mood from just from one word.
“Listen… it’s too much to explain right now, but our captain, Tacker Hall, he had a really bad accident just a few minutes ago. He’s being taken by ambulance to the hospital. I’m going to go straight there after the game, so we’re not going to be able to go out tonight.”
“Oh my God,” she exclaims. “And no worries. I can take care of myself, of course. I’ll just Uber back home. Do you still want me to come to the game?”
“Yes,” I blurt out. “Yes, of course. Please come and enjoy yourself. I’m just sorry I can’t do anything with you after. I expect the entire team will head to the hospital, assuming that’s where he’ll be.”
“Well, maybe you can head to his house if he’s discharged by then.”
Or the police station to bail him out, I think, but that’s not something to share with Regan right now.
“Dax?” Regan’s voice comes across softly, and still concerned. “Can I give you some advice?”
I jolt in surprise, at first not understanding why she feels the need to do so. Then I take stock of how I feel right in this moment. While I don’t pretend to understand how she knows it, I feel like shit.
“Yeah,” I reply.
“Try to compartmentalize,” she tells me. “It’s futile for me to tell you not to worry, but at least try to compartmentalize it. Imagine putting that worry into a box. Lock it with a key… envision yourself doing that. Then shove it into a far corner of your mind. Nothing you can do to help Tacker right now. I’m sure he has good people taking care of him. But you have a job to do, so you need to free your mind to be the best damn hockey player you can be tonight. When the game is done, unlock the box and go see your friend.”
I suck in a breath through my nose, letting her words settle in. They’re surprisingly simple, yet impactful at the same time. They were also given without thought or effort, and I realize something.
“I’d bet a million dollars you’ve given that speech before,” I say as I walk toward my locker. Only a few other players are in here, but no one is talking and laughing, which means the news about Tacker has spread.