Page 62
Story: Guarded By the Goalie
“Axel, right?” he asks, stacking crackers and cheese on his paper plate.
“Yes, sir,” I say after swallowing.
“Jim Brown.” He offers his hand and I shake it. “You’re having one heck of a season up there at Wittmore.”
“Oh, you’re a hockey fan?” I nod to the others hovering around the screen. “Don’t let them hear you, or they’ll try you for treason.”
“I grew up in Michigan. We love football and hockey.” He gives me an appraising look, seeming to look past the tattoos and piercings. “You carried the team in that game against the Hounds.”
“That’s giving me a little more credit than I deserve. Our offense still got the puck in the net, but their offense was just relentless.” The defense was struggling that day and I’d been worn the fuck out by the end of it. “Even though we won, I wouldn’t be sad to see them knocked out of the playoffs.”
“I heard about your probation. Hopefully that hasn’t been too disruptive.”
“It was a stupid mistake,” I admit. “But everything should be cleared up by early next week.”
“Good, you wouldn’t want something like that to hinder you from the draft.”
I grab two more mushrooms, because Jesus, these things are like crack. “I’m not entering the draft.”
“You’re not?” He frowns. “I’ve seen the reports. You’re high on the list.”
“There are bigger things than hockey.” A heavy hand lands on my shoulder. My father is the man behind that sentiment. “Axel has plans to join the Kingdom after graduation.”
Jim nods, but I sense his disappointment. Mostly because I feel it myself. “I understand. A greater calling. Can’t ignore that.”
“No, you can’t,” Dad says. “Now, I just got the nod that it’s time for dinner. Let’s head to the dining room before it gets cold.”
On the way to the dining room, I pause and indicate for my father to do the same. “About the probation. I was going to tell you–”
“No need,” he holds up his hand. “I already know all about it.”
“You do?” I frown. “Did Coach Bryant call you?”
His jaw sets, but he doesn’t answer my question about Coach. “Just because you’re across the country doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with your activities.”
And like that, all the pieces fall into place. I’d wondered why the probation status hadn’t made the news, not even locally. My father somehow managed to control it. “The toxicology report implies some kind of dosing?”
Shit. How far is his reach? I shift uneasily. “It seems like it.”
“You know what they say: bad company corrupts good behavior.”
Leave it to my father to throw shade on my friends with a bible verse.
“Well, it’ll be done by Monday. I’ll retake the test and I can put it behind me.”
“I should hope so, Son,” his voice lowers. “I’ve allowed you a lot of freedom during these years. As much as I dislike it, I’m aware that edgy, tattooed, experienced young leaders are a draw to the modern church, but embarrassing the family publicly is where I draw the line. Our reputation is all we have.”
“Along with our faith, obviously,” I add, not hiding the sarcasm.
I can tell by his expression that he thinks I should wear this weight for eternity, but my mother waves him to the head of the long table. The feast is too big and everything is placed on sideboards for a buffet, but the massive turkey sits in front of his seat, the carving knife and fork next to the gold rimmed plate, ready for the king of the castle.
“Reverend,” a squeaky voice interrupts my father’s preparations. Everyone looks over and sees David Jones step forward, pale and swallowing nervously. “If I may…”
“David, what’s on your mind?” my dad asks and I sense a set up. My gaze darts to Shelby who is standing by my mother, eyes wide, watching her boyfriend approach our father.
He fumbles in his pocket and the church ladies barely contain their whispers as he reveals a black velvet box. “I’d like to ask for Shelby to be promised to me.”
Promised. Jesus Christ. I don’t know what’s worse. The commitment of an engagement ring or the shackles of a promise. Shelby gasps and the dread in my gut unfurls. I feel her slipping further away–further into their grasp. At least I had a chance to run free for a minute, but Shelby, she’s never had a chance.
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