THIAGO
The mandatory coaches’ meeting continued for a long time after I left Anastasia, but I found myself completely distracted as I sat at the front table.
The head coach and the assistants spent the hour discussing Boston’s strongest offensive players, and they went over our specific defensive game plan on the dry-erase board multiple times before the session ended.
I answered every single question they asked me during the strategy review because I knew my job as captain perfectly well, but my mind kept going back to Anastasia and the first ever easy going conversation we’ve had.
She had looked genuinely scared when she mentioned those new online rumors to me, and what surprised me most about the interaction was that she completely expected me to judge her character before I even knew the facts of what had actually happened at her old job.
It bothered me that she assumed I would automatically believe a random internet forum post over her word, and I couldn’t shake the memory of how small she looked while holding her camera bag against her chest.
When the long strategy meeting finally came to an end, the head coach gathered his notebooks from the desk and stood up to address the room one last time.
He looked around at the staff and then turned his eyes directly toward me.
"Remember, Thiago, we have a lot of media interviews scheduled before the official game starts," the head coach said, pointing his finger toward the door.
"The local reporters are looking for any kind of drama they can find to write about, so I want you to be very careful with your words. Avoid answering any unnecessary questions from the press, and just tell them that the team is entirely focused on winning this hockey match."
"I understand, Coach," I replied, nodding my head as I stood up from my chair. "I will handle the reporters and keep the rest of the players in line during the press run."
I agreed to his terms before leaving the room, and I carried my playbook under my arm as I walked out.
As I walked down the corridor toward our locker room, I passed the open door of the marketing office and noticed Mr. Hunts speaking directly with two senior media employees.
I wasn’t trying to listen to their conversation at all, but Anastasia’s name immediately caught my attention, and I stopped for a second to hear what they were saying.
"We just received another message from the sports blogs," one employee said, and he looked deeply worried as he tapped the screen of his tablet. "Several prominent reporters have already emailed our public relations organization this morning, and they are flatly asking if the online rumors about Anastasia Bian are true. They want to know if we are going to keep her on the staff for the rest of the road trip or if we are going to release her because of the scandal."
Mr. Hunts did not hesitate for a single second, and he immediately shut the conversation down with a very firm wave of his hand.
"Anastasia was completely and properly investigated by our background check team before she was ever hired by this franchise," Mr. Hunts said, and his deep voice sounded very strict. "She does excellent work for our media department, and the Titans organization will not comment on useless gossip from random internet message boards. Tell the reporters that we are here to play a hockey game, and tell them that we do not answer questions about our staff’s personal lives."
Hearing the general manager defend her so quickly made me realize that the organization trusted her far more than she actually believed.
She was worried about losing her career all over again, but the front office was already protecting her from the media storm without her even knowing it.
I let out a slow breath and continued walking away, feeling a strange sense of relief in my chest as I approached the player facility
~
The next day, all the players gathered inside the main locker room before leaving for the warmups at the arena.
Everyone was joking around with each other to ease the immense pressure before the big championship game started.
Miller was standing in the center of the floor with a plastic water bottle in his hand, and he kept pretending to interview the rookies like he was a famous television reporter.
"Tell us, Brooks," Miller said, shoving the water bottle directly into Cassian’s face while the other guys laughed. "How does it feel to be the youngest guy on the ice tonight during such a massive match?"
Cassian answered every single question with a huge grin, and he spoke like he had already won the championship trophy.
"It feels great, Miller. I plan to score at least two goals tonight, and then I am going to take the entire team out to celebrate our big victory."
Even I had to stop myself from smiling at their ridiculous antics, and I just shook my head as I tied the laces on my skates.
It was good for the team to stay loose before a hard game, and the laughter was exactly what the younger guys needed to ease the tension.
Then, Cassian suddenly stood up and looked around the crowded room with a confused expression on his face.
He set his helmet down on the locker shelf and called out to the group.
"Hey, does anyone know where Anastasia is right now?" Cassian asked, looking at Miller and then turning his head toward the door. "I wanted her to take a good luck picture of me by the bench before we start our official warmups on the ice."
My eyes immediately moved toward him the exact second her name left his mouth, and I felt my jaw tighten slightly as I watched him grab his favorite hockey stick from the equipment rack.
He was always looking for an excuse to get near her, and his constant attention was starting to irritate me more than I wanted to admit to myself.
Kier was right next to me and also glared at him when his sister’s name left the rookie’s mouth.
Before anyone in the room could answer his question, the equipment manager walked in and pointed down the hallway toward the rink.
"The media team has already gone down to the ice level, boys," the equipment manager said, throwing a bundle of clean towels to the center table. "If you want photos, you need to get out there right now because the referees are about to clear the benches for the pre-game skate."
"Perfect," Cassian said, grabbing his gloves and hurrying straight out. "I don’t want to miss her before the skates start."
He left the room quickly, and his skates made a loud clicking sound on the floor as he rushed down.
Without thinking about it at all, I found myself standing up from my wooden bench and walking much faster right behind him down the dark tunnel.