Page 27 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)
“If I knew any of my teammates did what Kyle has been charged with, I would have turned them in, and offered to pay for the victim’s legal fees.”
“Are you saying …”
I nodded. “Yes. To the women who have come forward already, if you can’t pay your legal fees for this, I will. Kyle Henderson is a predator, and he deserves to be held accountable for his actions.”
She blew out a breath. “I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”
Lifting one shoulder, I sat back against the couch in the cabin.
“I’ve always been an advocate. But I … yesterday, I met the friends of a young friend of mine.
I guess ‘friends’ is a loose term because he’s from a small town and doesn’t really get to pick who he hangs out with.
But he asked me to come to the school to meet these kids.
And the way they spoke about the girls in their class, about one of their teachers …
” I shook my head. “These are fourteen and fifteen-year-old boys, and it was honestly disgusting to hear.”
Jasmine’s head bobbed.
“I’d never heard of Germaine Pratt—” Her face contorted to one of contempt. “I’d never heard of him until my friend mentioned that his classmates listen to his podcast. I listened to one episode last night, just to see what it was all about, and I was sick to my stomach by the end.”
“It’s brainwashing,” she added.
“It absolutely is. This ‘high value male bullshit’ is … it’s garbage.
It’s oppressive and degrading to women. It’s setting boys—men—up for failure and loneliness with this unrealistic and outdated expectation of what a relationship should be like.
Saying that women should ‘submit’ to their man is absolutely ridiculous.
” I tipped my head side-to-side. “Unless that’s her kink.
I’m not kink shaming. So please, BDSM community, don’t come after me.
If both parties have agreed to a Dom-sub relationship, then you do you.
But that community is built on a foundation of respect and trust. What Pratt is spouting is anything but. ”
“You know our listeners are going to be going crazy thinking you’re part of the BDSM community now,” she teased, lightening the mood.
“Anything to increase your number of listeners.” I winked.
“So, just to recap, you stand by the women accusing Kyle Henderson, are offering to cover their legal fees if they need it,” I nodded, “and you are openly condemning Kyle, and Germaine Pratt?”
“I am.”
“And the league? Because they’re refusing to condemn Henderson and the press conference this morning regarding his suspension continued to use the term ‘allegedly,’ indicating that they were mere accusations and he had yet to be charged.
When the truth is, he was let out on bail last night, and is waiting for a trial date to be set. ”
I swallowed the growing lump of nerves at the back of my throat. “If the league won’t come out of the dark ages and stand up for women, and hold their attackers accountable—regardless of if those attackers are cash cows or not—then I condemn the NHL as well.”
Jasmine’s brows nearly met her hairline. “All right then.”
I glanced at the clock on my laptop; the hour had flown by.
My palms were sweaty, and an anxious tingle raced up and down through my arms. I knew what I had said was controversial and would undoubtedly wind me up in hot water, but I didn’t care.
Protecting predators needed to stop. And if I was the one to shake the tree so the bad apples in the NHL fell to the ground for the bears to feed on, then so be it.
Jasmine wrapped up our conversation with a few lighter questions that I answered. Just before she ended the recording, I snapped my fingers. “Hey, a new friend of mine is a huge fan. Do you think you could give a shout out to Jillian Sharpe?”
Jasmine’s dark eyes lit up. “Jillian, girl, I hope your day is going great and I want to have you on my show too. Pester Maverick to give you my number. Thanks for being a fan and listening.”
“She’s going to lose her mind,” I said with a smile.
“I can’t wait to meet her.” She ended the recording, and I closed my eyes and pressed the heels of my palms against my forehead.
“You did great,” she said, still on the screen. “Regret anything?”
I removed my hands and shook my head. “No.”
“You’re a good man, Maverick Roy. We need more like you out there. In a world filled with red flag guys, you’re a green flag hero showing us all that your kind still does exist. We just have to dig through the red flag rubble to find you.”
Even though I hadn’t moved from my seat on the couch, I was exhausted. My smile remained small as I thanked Jasmine for having me on.
“I’ll send you a copy of the recording, hopefully tomorrow night.
If I can’t get it up Monday, definitely Tuesday.
” Her lips twisted in thought. “You know … you should consider hosting your own podcast. Be the anti -Germaine Pratt. Talk about healthy masculinity and respect. Be the antidote to Pratt’s poison. Unbrainwash the lost boys out there.”
I huffed a laugh. “That’s a good term for them, ‘lost boys.’”
“Feel free to use it on your podcast.” She bobbed her brows playfully. “All right, I gotta get editing. Chat soon, Maverick. Keep doing rehab and hopefully we’ll see you back on the ice during the playoffs.”
“Take care, Jasmine. Thanks again.”
We signed off, and I closed my eyes once more, scrolling through our conversation and knowing that as soon as it went live, my life, and my career, were absolutely going to change.
Maybe it was time to shake things up.
Maybe, just maybe, my time in the NHL was coming to a close.
The big question was: how did I feel about that?