Page 54 of Goal Line (Boston Rebels #4)

Chapter Forty

LUKE

“ H ow do you feel about that?” Chloe asks after I give her the PG-rated description of the changes in my relationship with Eva since we last talked.

My long exhale loosens my shoulders. “So fucking relived.”

“And how’s hockey going now?” She pushes a pair of tortoise-shell glasses up the bridge of her nose, and I wonder why she wasn’t wearing them last time.

Does she normally wear contacts? It’s such a silly thing to think about, but it’s also a reminder that I don’t really know her at all.

Normally, that would make me way more hesitant to talk to her about anything important.

But somehow, she makes me want to keep talking.

“Good, I think. Colt said something to me at practice the other day that I can’t stop thinking about. ”

“Colt’s the other goalie?” When I nod my head, she asks, “So, what did he say?”

“Two things, actually. First, he pointed out that I’m flawless in practice. Which got me thinking...if I’m flawless there, then the issue isn’t that I need to get better, it’s that I need to harness that level of focus and performance when the moment calls for it.”

Her lips curve up at the ends. “So you need some strategies for maintaining your focus in high-pressure situations. We can work on that. What was the second thing?”

“He said he was the one who asked our general manager to get me traded to Boston.”

“And why is this significant?”

“I always assumed Charlie, that’s Eva’s dad and our head coach,” I remind her, “asked her to bring me to Boston. Or Evan Knight, our goalie coach, because I’d trained with him in the summers before.

I didn’t even know Colt when he made the suggestion.

And he’s the best goalie in the league. So the fact that he chose me to fill his shoes when he retires at the end of next season. ..it’s a lot to process.”

“Do you feel good about that?”

“Yeah, for sure. I guess it’s still a little confusing because of what my dad said.” I rub the bridge on my nose to relieve the pressure that forms there every time I rehash

Behind her glasses, her eyebrows dip in confusion. “What did your dad say?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you when I explained why Eva and I got married?

” I ask, and she shakes her head. “I was at the Rebels offices for a meeting with AJ shortly after Game 7 and accidentally overheard my dad and my brother, Tucker, meeting with her. And my dad said, ‘This is why I didn’t want you to bring Luke onto this team.’”

She lifts her chin as she studies me. “What do you think he meant by that?”

I scoff out a laugh. “What else could he have meant? He said it put him ‘in a really tough position.’”

“I’ll bet.”

Now it’s my turn to look at her with confusion written across my face, but I’m at a loss for what to say. “Why do you bet?”

“Because from everything you said about your dad when you were telling me about your family and the team, he sounds like a supportive, dedicated father who loves his kids, and a fair and respectful owner of your team.”

I nod, because it’s all true. I didn’t just paint that picture of my dad. That is my dad. Which is why this all hurts so much.

“So how do you think those two things—loving dad and a fair team owner—might come into conflict after that Game 7 loss?”

My teeth sink into my lower lip as I take a deep breath, considering her question. “I guess how he’d want to respond as a dad could be at odds with how he might need to respond as the owner of the team?”

“That would be a really tough position.” I don’t miss how she intentionally uses my father’s words.

“So you’re suggesting that...maybe he didn’t want me on the team because he just wanted to be my dad, not because he didn’t think I was good enough to play for the Rebels?”

“I’m suggesting that it’s possible. And I’m also sensing a pattern here.

You thought you knew how Eva felt about you, so you didn’t tell her about your own feelings, and as a result, you almost missed out on a future with her.

You thought your dad meant you weren’t good enough to play for his team, so you didn’t talk to him about it and have instead let it affect how you feel about playing for the Rebels.

But what if he meant something else entirely? ”

“Hmmmm.” It’s all I can respond with. I always thought I was good at reading people—it’s an essential skill for a goalie and one I thought I’d pretty much mastered.

But maybe my ability to recognize a player’s intentions on the ice doesn’t necessarily translate into an ability to understand people’s intentions off it, in the way I always thought.

“And most importantly,” Chloe adds, “why are you more concerned with keeping the peace than with going after what you want?”

“I grew up with three much older brothers,” I tell her, “who all have well-deserved reputations for being...difficult. I was always the easy one, the peacemaker. My mom used to say I was her gift for surviving Preston, Tucker, and Tristan, so I always tried to be reliable and supportive. Even with hockey, I gravitated toward being a goalie because it’s a protective role, where your teammates know they can rely on you to back them up.

With Eva, all I’ve ever wanted to do is be there for her in whatever way she needed me, regardless of what I actually wanted.

So...” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I guess I’ve spent my whole life being a people pleaser. ”

I chuckle softly, and when Chloe doesn’t say anything right away, I continue.

“I’m trying to wrap my mind around the irony, because I’ve always claimed not to care what people think and encouraged Eva to care less about others’ opinions.

But maybe...maybe I care a whole lot more than I thought. ”

“Could that be why you took the Game 7 loss so hard?”

“I took the Game 7 loss hard because I froze in the most important moment of my career. All that training, all the years of practices and games, then when my team needed me, I let them down.” I press my lips together, still frustrated with myself. It wasn’t just a game. It was the game.

“People have bad games, Luke,” Chloe says. “And it sounds like your coaches, your teammates, and even your GM have reminded you of this on multiple occasions.”

“Yeah, but...nothing like that has ever happened to me. I guess I’m still not sure how to think about it.”

“You’ve never lost a game before?”

“I’ve never stood in the goal and let puck after puck get by me because I was too distracted to care about what was happening on the ice. And I don’t know how to make sure it never happens again.”

I can hear the frustration in my voice, because I need to know what to do differently next time, and I just want her to tell me.

“There are things about the game you can’t control—like your starting goalie getting injured, or your defense falling apart. And if either of those things hadn’t happened, then you wouldn’t have had all that added pressure on you.”

“Yes, but that’s my job. When the puck gets by everyone else, I’m the last line of defense. And I didn’t do my job.”

“And you’re mad at yourself for that?”

“Of course I am.” I spit out the words. I didn’t realize that talking about all of this would dredge up the same emotions I was experiencing almost two months ago when it happened.

“Are you mad at Colt for getting injured, or your teammates not doing a better job keeping the puck away from your net?”

That gives me pause, and I chew on the outer corner of my lip for a moment before I say, “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m the one who needs to step up when the puck gets to me, and I didn’t.”

“Aren’t your forwards supposed to be able to keep the puck on the other side of the ice? Aren’t your defensemen supposed to keep the puck away from your goal?”

“Well, yeah. But hockey’s a fast-moving game?—”

“Where anything can happen,” she says quickly.

“Where players can be tired because it’s the third period of the game, or upset because the best goalie in the league just got taken off the ice at a crucial moment.

..or distracted because the person they love might be hurt.

Have none of your teammates ever been distracted? ”

I think about how, just in the playoffs alone, Colt was kicked out of a game for fighting over Jules, and McCabe literally left mid-game after AJ was hurt and he thought his baby, Abby, might have been too.

And earlier in the season, I know that Drew also left before a game because Audrey and Graham had been in a car accident. “I guess I’m not the only one.”

“Then why are you being harder on yourself than you are on your teammates?”

“Because I don’t mess up like that.” My voice takes on an urgent, almost high-pitched quality .

“Or?”

“Or things fucking fall apart, okay?” I sound as frantic as I feel at this admission.

“What kind of things?”

“I don’t know. My team, my family.”

“And you’re the glue holding both those things together?”

“No. But I was always taught that everyone needs to pull their weight, or no one can be successful—that’s true for my family, and it’s true for a team too.

Right before the game, Coach said we were the better team, and there was no reason we shouldn’t win as long as everyone went out there and did their job. I didn’t do that.”

I think about how many people I let down—my family, the coach who’s always been a mentor to me, my teammates, the fans. The pressure builds in my chest, the weight of it almost crushing me.

“Sounds like a lot of people fell apart at the end of that game, Luke. You, among others. Here’s the thing about relationships .

. . ” She pauses, waiting for me to focus my attention on her again.

“Whether they’re with your team or a partner or your family: No one can give one hundred percent all the time.

It’s impossible. Sometimes, someone gives less and someone else gives more, and it all evens out in the end.

I think the question is, why do you feel like you’re always the one who has to give more? ”

Instead of insisting I don’t feel that way—which is my first instinct—I pause, then ask, “What do you mean?”

“With Eva, with your parents, and with your team, you keep describing this need to take care of everyone, to protect them, to go above and beyond. Where does that need stem from? What is its source? ”

“I...I don’t know,” I say. But I fear that maybe I do.

She tilts her head again, pressing her lips together, and then asks, “Are you sure about that?”

I close my eyes, lean my head against the back of the chair, and look up at the ceiling.

I sit like that for a minute, trying to force all my thoughts from my head to avoid all the fucking emotions that are crowding in.

Chloe doesn’t push me to talk, but I can hear her breathing, reminding me she’s still there, waiting.

“I’m a lot younger than my brothers,” I finally say, my eyes trained on the ceiling.

“Even in my earliest memories, it was always the three of them. My mom called them her ‘Three Musketeers,’ my dad called them his ‘Triumvirate.’ I was always the baby of the family...an afterthought, I guess. Not that anyone said that, but...” I think about how my brothers were all destined to run the family business, all had positions waiting for them before they even went to business school. “I didn’t feel needed.”

“Wanting to feel needed—like you’ve described with your family, with Eva, and with your team—can sometimes be a symptom of a deep fear of rejection.”

I think about the way I avoided talking to Evie about my feelings for a full decade, the way I didn’t approach my dad about what I’d overheard in AJ’s office, and the way I didn’t reach out to my teammates after Game 7. “Is avoidance another symptom?”

Her voice is soft when she says, “If what you’re avoiding is the potential to experience rejection, then yes.”

Another sigh. “I’ve never not been successful,” I admit. “But I’ve almost always avoided situations where I didn’t think I’d be the best. ”

Not telling Eva how I felt and remaining in the friend zone for way too long, going to Boston College instead of Harvard like my brothers, majoring in sports medicine instead of business...Every path was chosen based on the likelihood of success.

“We’re unfortunately out of time,” Chloe says, and my head snaps up to look at the screen.

“That’s it? You’re just going to leave me here after unpacking all that?”

“Is it hard for you to sit with your thoughts like this?” she asks.

I look away again.

“You did a lot of hard work today, Luke. I’m not expecting this realization that you have a deep-seated fear of rejection to be easy for you to work through, and I hope you don’t expect that either.

But you do need to think about it—about why failure is so scary to you, and about how you can get around that so you don’t limit your options. ”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to talk to you about?”

“Yes, and we will talk about it more. But a lot of this work is internal. You have to dig down and figure out whether this fear of rejection is a reasonable fear to hold on to. And if it is, how you might manage it when it springs up. That’s all stuff we can talk about next week, but first you need to spend some time on your own with this newfound knowledge. ”

I look back at the screen as I crack my knuckles. “I hate everything you just said, even though I know you’re right.”

“That’s a very natural reaction,” she says. “Do you want to move our meeting up next week? I have some time earlier in the week. ”

“I have to look at my calendar. Can you text me your availability and we’ll see if it works?”

“Sure. And Luke, for what it’s worth, this is hard work, and I’m proud of you for doing it.”

On the screen, I watch my lips press together into a flat line, before I say, “Thanks. I’ll talk to you next week.”

When the window closes on my screen, I let out a deep sigh and get up in search of Eva. I’ve never needed a hug more than I do at this moment.