When I got to the locker room, Collins was already in there, standing by my locker.
“You okay?” he mumbled as I walked up.
“I’m fine,” I lied, not wanting to tell my coach that my world had collapsed in more ways than one over the last few days.
He nodded and scanned the bustling locker room. “Just an off night or what?”
“Yeah,” I snapped, looking him in the eye. “I had a rough night. Sorry.”
“You want to go up for interviews?”
“No. Not tonight.”
He patted me on the shoulder and walked off.
The last thing I needed was a bunch of bloodthirsty sports reporters asking me the same questions over and over, wanting to know why I’d missed so many shots. Who the hell even knew the answer to that?
I pulled my jersey over my head and started the process of taking my pads off. Louie glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before he turned the TV in the locker room on and flipped the channel to the postgame interview. It was no secret I’d played badly tonight. It was also no secret I was pissed off at myself about it. Normally, I was the jokester after the games, but tonight, I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Well, except for one person, but I wasn’t ready to talk to her just yet.
I sat on the bench and sighed, leaning forward on my elbows and resting my head in my hands. It was bad enough that I could hear the interview; I didn’t want to see it too. The reporters started firing out questions about me right away.
“Coach, are you worried about how Murphy played tonight?”
“No,” he responded. “It is what it is. We’re all human. It’s his first bad game all season. Everyone is entitled to a couple.”
“Coach, coach!” another reporter shouted out. “This is a contract year for Murphy. Is that having an effect on his abilities?”
Collins exhaled loudly into the microphone. “It is a contract year. Is it having an effect on him? Who knows? I can’t answer that. I’m sure it’s stressful to know that your every move is being watched and weighed by the front office, but he’s tough. He can handle it.”
“Coach Collins, sources close to Murphy say that there are some personal relationship things that could be affecting the way he played tonight. Do you know anything about that?”
My head snapped up to the TV.
Fucking vultures.
I could feel every guy in the room staring at the back of my head.
“Listen. You know what? He doesn’t talk to me about things like that and he doesn’t owe it to me either. He’s here to do a job and he does it damn well. Did he have a rough night? Yes. Will he bounce back tomorrow? Yes. Do I think his personal life has anything to do with it? No. Even if it did, it’s none of my—or anyone else’s—business. That’s all for tonight.” He pushed the microphone away from his face and stood up from the table looking as pissed as I’d ever seen him. He lost his cool just as much as the next guy, but almost never on camera and certainly not during an interview.
Collins stormed through the locker room without making eye contact with anyone—especially me.
“That was rough.” Viper sat down next to me, sweat dripping from his temples. “You all right?”
“Fine.” I slammed my skates into my bag.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Okay, I’m not fine.”
“Anything you want to talk about?” he asked carefully.
I sat up and stared straight ahead. “I don’t want any advice,” I warned.
“Done. Lay it on me.”
“He’s back, her ex. For weeks apparently, but she didn’t tell me.” I sighed.
“Interesting.”
“That’s all? Interesting?” I gawked at him.
“You didn’t want my advice.” He shrugged. “So I’m listening.”
“If I were to ask for your advice, what would it be?”
“Easy. Kick his ass. She’s your woman; fight for her.”
“I did. I think I broke his jaw.”
His head whipped around to look at me as he clapped my shoulder, hard. “Nice! Attaboy! So why didn’t she tell you?”
“I don’t know. I’m assuming she didn’t want me to be mad?”
“Wait a second.” He stood and tossed his own skates in his bag. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t know why she lied? Didn’t you ask her?”
“I was mad. I left. Haven’t talked to her since.”
His mouth hung open as he pulled his brows in tight, frowning at me. “What are you? An idiot? What if there’s a perfectly good reason why she didn’t tell you? What if you, being the stubborn asshole that you are, are sitting here stewing about it while that douchebag is comforting her and mending her broken heart?”