Neither of us spoke for a minute. We just stood there, staring at each other with tears in our eyes.
“I need you too, Kacie. I just don’t want the girls to hate me.”
“Hate you?” That thought was ridiculous to me, but it was a real fear of his. “They think you’re Superman, Brody. There’s a lot they won’t understand now, but as they get older, they’ll get it.”
“And what if that’s when they blame me?” he asked. “When they get older?”
“Then together, we’ll sit them down and give them as much truth as they can handle.” I stepped closer to the bars and looked up at him. “The key word in that sentence is together. Now, let’s get you out of there and go home—together.”
“Dude, if you don’t marry her today, I will,” a familiar voice called out.
My head snapped to the left to see Viper and the same officer who’d brought me down there standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry.” He shrugged. “You guys are taking forever and I’m fucking starving. I figure if you haven’t made up yet, I’ll drop you off at home and you can fuck it out while I go get pizza.”
The cop took out his keys and started our way with Viper right behind him.
“Holy shit! Viperrrrr!” one of the drunk guys in the other cell yelled out as Viper walked past them.
“What up, dudes?” Viper waved, stopping to shake their hands through the cell bars.
I stepped back, allowing the officer access to the lock. Brody was watching Viper and the guys with an impassive look on his face. The jingling of the keys in the lock pulled his attention away from them and he stared right at me.
Through me.
The cell door swung open, but Brody didn’t budge. He kept his eyes glued to mine but turned his head just a hint toward the officer. “He’s gonna be a minute, right?”
The cop turned and looked at Viper who was high-fiving and chatting with the now wide-awake group. “Looks like it.”
A smirk started at the corner of Brody’s mouth and rose to his eyes as he reached out and grabbed the collar of my hoodie. He pulled me into a bear hug and squeezed tight. “Then close the door and give us a minute too.”
I buried my face in his shirt and let go of all the pent-up emotion from the last several days. I sobbed and sobbed, overwhelmingly relieved that he wasn’t walking away from me. From us.
Suspensions fucking suck. There’s no other way to say it, they just do.
The fight during the game earned me a game misconduct penalty, which forced me to sit out not only the game I was kicked out of, but the next game too. Rather than appeal the decision and go in front of the Commissioner, Collins and I decided it was still early enough in the season for me to just serve out the suspension, pay the fine, and move on. Well, move on from the league’s perspective, but I was far from done with trouble.
Due to my little testosterone outburst in the bar, and my resulting arrest, the Wild suspended me two extra games. The only good thing to come from that arrest was Collins hauling my ass into his office for a long talk the next afternoon. I explained everything that had been going on, without making excuses for my performances.
“Murphy, I plucked you right out of college because there was something special about you. You’re a hell of a hockey player, but it’s more than just that. You were a crazy, immature kid who has grown into a remarkable man right in front of me. I would like to think I had something to do with that, but we both know I can’t take the credit.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, pulling his hands up to his mouth. “You’ve had some stuff going on in your personal life, I get that. Take these few days off and get your head screwed on straight.”
I looked down at the ground and nodded, fidgeting uncomfortably in my chair like I was a kid in the principal’s office. “Have you heard any trade whispers in the front office?”
My chest was tight with anticipation of his next sentence. I didn’t really want the answer, but I had to ask the question.
“No. Nothing. And believe me, I’ve had my people listening.”
I exhaled a deep breath and stood up to leave. Collins followed me to the door.
“Hang in there, kid. This is just a small bump in the very long road of your career.” He patted my shoulder as I opened the door.
“See you later, Coach.” I waved.
“Wait. I have to know… the bar fight. Why did it start?”
“Viper was in the bathroom and I was sitting there drinking my beer, not bothering anybody, but still pretty wound up from the fight and the game. Guy started telling everyone I was a goalie because I didn’t know how to throw a punch.” I shrugged. “He poked me in the back, so I proved him wrong. Then I proved him wrong again. Then again.”