Wildcat: Chapter 41

She didn’t come. Yeah, she walked out of my house six days ago, and we haven’t talked since, but her not showing up here tonight feels a hell of a lot more final. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the first time she doesn’t come in a month is after things with us went south.

“The guys are heading to Wild’s,” Ash says.

“I don’t think I’m feeling it tonight.” I run a towel through my hair and get dressed.

“All right. Lord of the Rings binge? Strip club?”

I laugh a little. “Go on without me. I have to hit the media room anyway.”

“Hey,” he says and grabs my shoulder. “No comment.”

He says the two words slowly and then smiles big.

Fucker.

“Lohan!” Maverick calls my name from across the locker room and beckons me. I don’t feel like talking to anyone else, so I make a motion that I’m heading in the other direction and start toward the interview room. Jack is already there, answering questions from the podium.

Blythe walks over to me and offers a smile. “Nice game.”

“Thanks.”

She lingers.

“I know the drill. Say ‘no comment’ and smile. I won’t let you down.”

She quietly laughs and shoots me a sideways glance. “They’ve already been prompted to keep all questions on the game. If they go rogue, I’m here to deal with them.”

“Thank you.” The last thing I need is to cap off the night with another jog down memory lane of my actions the past few weeks and how I lost my position and the girl.

Jack takes his last question, and I push off the wall.

“Hey, Leo.” Blythe stops me before I go upfront. “You have this. If you don’t know how to answer a question, you can always fall back with a good shrug or shake of the head, say how much you enjoy being a part of this team.”

The room buzzes with noise as Jack thanks the reporters and waves. A few shout out final questions, hoping he’ll answer, lots of flashes go off. They’re still focusing on him when I take his spot and adjust the hat on my head to show more of my face.

Nervous energy makes me shift on my feet. I fiddle with the zipper on my team jacket and nod to the first reporter. He lobs me an easy question about L.A.’s defense.

I answer with confidence, but as soon as I finish and the next reporter starts to speak, I hold my breath. Whatever Blythe said before the interviews seems to have worked, and I settle in, feeling more like my old self with each one.

On the surface, I’m cool, calm, and collected. But as I blather on about hockey and tonight’s game, I realize on the inside I’m not any of those things. Even if I play every game perfectly and ace every interview, I’m never going to be the same.

Scarlett isn’t here, and she won’t be here unless I do something about it.

“Final question,” Blythe says from the side of the room.

I wave to a reporter in the front row. I realize my mistake too late. I’ve never seen her before, and she has that eager and wide-eyed look of a newbie. New reporters are a pain. They think their big break question is just around the corner, and they don’t hold back any punches. She smiles nervously and glances at Blythe, like she knows she’s going to get shot down as soon as the question leaves her mouth.

I recite no comment in my head over and over again, while I wait for her to deliver whatever hardball question she has up her sleeve.

“Your personal life has gotten a lot of attention this season.” She pauses, and Blythe steps forward. She continues on, speaking faster, “It isn’t the first time that you’ve had bad press. There was the incident in Boston your rookie season.”

“That will be all for tonight,” Blythe says, giving me an out.

“No, it’s fine.” I hold up my hand to stop Blythe from intervening. So far, she hasn’t said anything that isn’t straight facts.

The reporter blushes. “I only wonder how you drown out the noise after something like that and come in and play a game like tonight where you’re so sharp and focused?”

I rest my hands on either side of the podium. “We have a great group of guys with a lot of talent. Coming to work every day is fun.”

She nods. I can read the disappointment on her face from my bullshit answer. Blythe smiles proudly. She should. She crafted it herself.

I think of Scarlett. What’s she doing? Where is she? Does she feel empty on the inside like me?

I’d do anything to get her back. An idea hits, and I run through it at lightning speed, like I’m skating down the ice trying to read the play. Ah, fuck.

A few reporters stand to leave, but as soon as I start speaking again, they all freeze and retake their seats.

“You want to know how we drown out the noise? The truth is we don’t. Not really. Even the most dedicated and focused guy has his moments. How can we not? The very reason most of us play the game is personal. The people in our lives are a part of that, and yeah, when our relationships are rocky, then it sometimes shows out there.” I hang my head. “These guys on the team are like family. On the ice, we protect one another. Above all else, we’re a single unit with a single goal.”

I look to Blythe, and she nods, encouraging me. That’s because she has no idea where this little speech is going. I’ll apologize later.

“I fell in love with my coach’s daughter, and when people attacked her and our relationship, my instinct was to protect her, just like it would be out there with my guys. Then a lot of people told me the best thing for everyone was if I stayed silent. And that probably is what’s best for the team, maybe even for me, but it isn’t fair to her. I love this team. I’m proud to be a part of it, and I give a lot to it because I want us to win. You can play the best defense and still lose. I lost the girl because I was so busy protecting everyone that I forgot to ask myself what really mattered. That stops right now. Make no mistake about it, I’m still here to win, and when I step out on the ice, I will do everything in my control to be a good teammate and player, but right now… I need to play a little offense.”

I take off with reporters calling after me. I blaze past all of them and head straight for the door. Some follow, but I don’t have time to care. I’m on a mission.

Johnny Maverick is in the hallway and steps beside me like he’s going to say something.

“Not now, Maverick. I need to find Scarlett.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” He jogs beside me to keep up. “She’s here.”

I stop. “Here?”

He points to the far end of the hallway, where family and friends wait for players.

She’s here. All the air is knocked from my lungs. My legs can’t take me to her fast enough.

Her expression is impossible to read, but the Leo Lohan jersey she’s wearing isn’t. She’s mine. We belong together. She’s my most important teammate.

I circle her waist with an arm and kiss her. She lets out a shocked squeak but then lifts up on her toes and places her arms around my neck.

Everything else feels insignificant without this. Without her.

Flashes bring me back to reality. When I finally look up, it’s to see a crowd of people, including the reporters I just left.

Scarlett tries to hide behind me, but I take her hand and pull her to my side. Right where she belongs.