Page 26 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)
Maverick
I only stayed for the one beer at the bar before heading back to my cabin and listening to Germain Pratt’s podcast: The Valued Man.
I was sick to my stomach after just one episode and had to have a shower and blast the water into my ears just to clean that filthy misogyny out.
Not that I could scrape it from my memory though.
One episode was enough. I knew what the prick was about.
So I switched to Jasmine’s podcast, and it was like coming up for air after being held underwater by a sociopath until my lungs burned.
She spoke like the educated woman that I knew she was, and actually listened to her guests, rather than speak over them.
Her questions were relevant and thought-provoking, rather than the drivel so many sportscasters asked after a game.
“How do you feel about tonight’s performance, Mav?
” or “ Do you feel like the team really brought their all to the ice tonight?” or my favorite of the asinine questions: “Who do you think wanted the win more tonight? You or the [insert random team name here]?” Like, obviously, we both wanted to win the game.
What team goes out onto the ice, field, pitch, or turf not wanting to win?
Luckily, Jasmine didn’t ask any of those mind-numbing questions to her athlete guests.
So while I was a bundle of nerves when I woke up Saturday morning, it wasn’t exactly with worry, but more with excitement. I knew interviews were part of the deal when you were a professional athlete, but I rarely looked forward to them.
I looked forward to this one though.
I did my physiotherapy exercises and stretches when I woke up, followed by a big breakfast of bread from Let it Rise Bakery, and eggs from Maz’s happy chickens. At nine fifty-five, I opened up my laptop and logged into the Zoom room. Jasmine was already there.
“Hey!” she said with a big smile and a friendly wave.
I mimicked her greeting. “How are you?”
“I’m great. How are you? How’s the back?”
“It’s a slow recovery, but I can still walk. So we need to take the W there.”
“For sure. You’re doing PT, obviously?” She tucked her long, straight, black hair behind her ears.
“Yeah. I did my stretches this morning. And I ordered a recumbent bike, which will be here next week.”
Her smile was bright and straight and made the apples of her already-round cheeks get even bigger. “Do you think you’ll get to play any more this season? Or is it too soon to tell?”
I made a face of regret. “They’re saying no, but I’m optimistic.”
Nodding, she opened up a notebook. “We’re not recording yet, just so you know.
Once we’ve agreed to things, then we’ll hit record and start.
This also isn’t live or anything. But I plan to edit it today and tomorrow, and it’d be amazing if I could get it out by Monday.
I don’t normally release episodes that fast, but I think ,” she put a heavy emphasis on the word think , “that what we’re going to talk about is going to be rather relevant and better received if I expedite things. ”
“Okay.”
“Are there any off-limits topics?”
“My current location, I’d say. And it’d be great if we could keep the discussion about my dad and brothers to a minimum. I’m not against talking about them, but anybody who is a hockey fan knows I’m Kirby Roy’s son, and Rebel and Riot Roy’s little brother.”
“Very fair. Anything else?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’m a pretty open book. No skeletons or gargoyles hiding in my closet.”
Snickering, she jotted something down in her notebook. “No gargoyles in closet.’ All right. Good to know.”
I already knew this from our quick chat at the pub a month ago, but Jasmine was a very easy person to talk to. There was no judgment, no airs or falsehoods with her. She was genuine and made you just want to open up to her and share all your secrets. Not that I really had any.
“Should I hit record?”
“Let’s do it.”
Zoom announced it was now recording, and I sat back and waited for Jasmine to do her introduction.
“All right, and we’re back with another episode of Pucktastic with Jasmine Greengrass, where we don’t just talk about sports, we talk about all the other shit going on within sports.
I’m your host, Jasmine Greengrass, and I’m so lucky to have with me here today, Maverick Roy, starting center for the Portland Storm.
Hi, Maverick. Welcome to the show. Thank you so much for taking the time to be with me here this morning. ”
“Thank you for inviting me on, Jasmine. It’s really great to be here.”
“So, for those who might just be tuning in, and might not be aware, talk us through what happened to you a month ago on the ice, and why you are currently not playing with your team.”
I heaved a big sigh and launched into the explanation, going into enough detail that I’m sure anybody listening could picture it in their head.
“That is terrifying,” Jasmine said after I had finished. “You could have honestly been paralyzed from the waist down.”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “I’m really fortunate that I’m not.
And I’m doing the work, the PT, rehab, stretches, and all that to get better.
My physiotherapist is world renowned, and I’m being really mindful of how I move my body.
When I twist funny and something twinges, I know I wasn’t paying attention to how I move my torso. ”
“So besides taking it easy—which I’m sure isn’t easy—what else have you been up to?”
“Visiting some family friends. Taking some time to just … exist outside the realm of hockey.”
She smiled. “And how is it ‘outside the realm of hockey’?”
“Amazing. Honestly. For as long as I can remember, every weekend, every early morning and evening after school revolved around hockey. I couldn’t have any other hobbies.
So I’m taking this time to explore. I’ve done a watercolor class, a pottery class, I’m taking a cheesemaking class later today, and I’ve already got metalwork and woodwork classes on the books. ”
Her face lit up even more. “I truly love that. I love that for you. I love that for our listeners. I’m sure we’re all having a bit of a tough time picturing Maverick Roy making cheese, or sitting still long enough to paint a watercolor picture, but if you’re enjoying it …”
“The pottery was really fun. I’m going back next week to glaze it and make something else.” I brought my voice down low. “Don’t tell her, but I made my mom a mug for Mother’s Day.”
Jasmine giggled. “My lips are sealed.”
“And I went to the watercolor class with a couple of friends who showed me up big time, but it was still really fun and relaxing as well. I’ll take a picture of my work and send it to you.”
“I will hold you to that.”
We grinned at each other.
“So, you’re obviously not slowing down per se, just mixing it up and taking some time to have fun. Have you spoken with your coaches or teammates since the injury?”
“A few teammates have reached out. I’m real close with Roman Woodman. So we’re keeping in touch. Of course, Coach Nilsson came to the hospital, and he’s checked in on me a few times too.”
I knew this was the segue into discussing other teammates, and I was ready for it.
“Woodman has been really stepping up his game since your sudden departure. Twelve goals in the last six games, fifteen assists. The headlines say he’s on fire.”
I chuckled and smiled. “He’s always been fire. Roman is a fantastic player, and I’m so happy for him and his growing success.”
“Some say there’s murmurs about him getting traded to Detroit. Do you think he’s upped his game with the Storm to prove his value with the hopes that they’ll keep him?”
“If the owners of the team make the mistake of trading Roman, he’s just going to take any team he gets traded to all the way to the playoffs, and possibly the Cup. They’d be fools to get rid of him, and if Roman is upping his game to make a point, then I support him one hundred percent.”
Jasmine nodded. “I think they’d be fools to trade him right now—or at all—too.”
We spoke a bit more about the night of my injury and how my team has been managing without me. They’d had a few wins, but more losses than a normal season with me on the starting lineup, despite how well Roman was playing.
“Now, I’m hoping we can address the elephant in the room,” she said, her smile small, and hopeful.
“You mean Henderson and that his misogyny has finally been brought to light?” I asked, not mincing words.
Her dark, perfectly shaped brows lifted. “Uh … yeah. So you knew of his indiscretions then?”
“No,” I corrected. “I know of the atmosphere in the locker room, and the way a lot of players talk about and treat women. So the convictions against Kyle came as no surprise, but I was never aware of what he’s specifically been charged with.
Had I known, I’d have turned him in myself, ages ago.
And I apologize to the women who were silenced and only now came forward. I believe you and I stand with you.”
“Wow. Uh … how do you plan to handle the backlash you’re clearly going to face going against a teammate like this? Isn’t there a code ? A brotherhood?”
“Isn’t there a human code ? A code of ethics?
A code of right and wrong, and standing up for people who have been wronged to those who are oppressing and hurting them?
Why should we protect a predator just because we skate around the ice with them?
If he, or any of my teammates, killed someone, I wouldn’t help hide the body.
” I snorted. “Unless Roman killed Kyle because he was being a predatory prick. Then I’d absolutely help him. ”
Her eyes went wide at my candid response.
But I wasn’t going to hold back here. I’d take the backlash and deal with it.
This predator protection was bullshit, and it needed to stop.
We weren’t gods. We weren’t kings. We weren’t immune to the consequences of our actions just because we made millions pushing a little black puck around with sticks in front of thousands of people.