Page 24

TREV

Road trips were never easy. Didn’t matter if I was a kid riding drafty buses and staying in crap hotels or a full-fledged pro flying on charter jets and sleeping in high-end rooms—it took its toll.

The jetlag. The early mornings. The late nights.

As much as I loved traveling with my teams, and as much as I’d loved it since my youth days, it was still hard sometimes.

Being away from my boyfriend, then fiancé, then husband had been tough.

About the time getting away from him had become a relief, I’d been grappling with constantly leaving my kids behind.

Early on, they’d struggled with separation anxiety, which hadn’t done good things to my head.

The last couple of seasons, they missed me but didn’t get scared that I wasn’t coming home, so that was an improvement for everyone.

It still sucked sometimes, though. One of the hardest things had been after the divorce.

I hadn’t worried about Bryan talking shit about me to the boys—that was one line even he wouldn’t cross—but I’d been startled to realize how much the lack of connection to him severed me from them.

He was reliable as the sun about getting them on FaceTime with me, which I appreciated.

He kept me in the loop if there were any issues, like when Zane was down with a bad ear infection or when Zach sprained his ankle playing soccer.

But I hadn’t realized how much I’d leaned on the sporadic updates throughout the day.

The random photos of the boys. The texts about something silly one of them had said.

The videos of milestones I hadn’t been there to see.

Even the messages about how this or that cartoon made him want to put an icepick through his own ear or how he couldn’t take one more repetition of that obnoxious song.

The end of my constant communication with my husband had meant an end to all those little lifelines, which had been the beginning of me realizing—too late—just how much they’d kept me going.

Without them, road trips became bleak and lonely, even while I was surrounded by my teammates.

When Bryan had the twins, it was radio silence from the home front, and it was driving me insane.

When Cam had the boys, though?

I have no idea where they found the markers or why they thought to color on each other’s faces, but the picture is hilarious lol

The boys wanted to show you their paintings from school today, so here’s a pic!

Your children have MASTERED the voice of Spud the Sparrow, so when you get home, we need to discuss my SUBSTANTIAL pay raise.

I chuckled at that last message as the bus took us back to our hotel after our morning skate.

The twins were obsessed with this obnoxious cartoon featuring talking woodland creatures, and I wasn’t at all surprised they’d taken to mimicking one of the characters.

Or that Cam—who’d hated characters like that even back when we’d been the target audience of most cartoons—was annoyed by it.

Could be worse. Trust me.

HOW??

Look up Pirate Billy Bob on YouTube.

There was no response for a moment. I pressed my lips together, imagining the horror on his face when he saw those clips.

Bryan had barely made it through the twins’ Pirate Billy Bob phase, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he started dry-heaving upon hearing the first few notes of its theme song.

Hell, if things had been less tense, Cam and Bryan could’ve bonded over their hatred of children’s programming.

It was actually funny, imagining the two of them ranting about high-pitched sea shanties, overdone pirate voices, and nightmarishly creepy animation.

The thought made my humor fade a bit. Cam and Bryan having an exasperated conversation about Pirate Billy Bob was a fantasy. It made me think, for the millionth time— what happened to us?

Before I could go too far down that mental road, my phone pinged.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

What… What even IS this show? Your kids WATCHED it?

LOL They watch Forest Friends. Are you surprised?

Okay, Forest Friends is stupid and annoying, but this? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?

Have you listened to any of the songs?

There’s SONGS? I can’t even get past the animation.

It’s like someone tried to mimic South Park’s style using some bottom-of-the-barrel AI, and it somehow came out looking both cheap AND like something in the uncanny valley.

You have to WORK at it to make something this bad.

You should really listen to the songs.

Absolutely the fuck not.

(chicken emoji)

(middle finger emoji)

(three chicken emojis)

(eyeroll emoji) (middle finger emoji)

Nothing came through for a minute or so, but about the time I was gathering my coffee cup and toque to get off the bus, there was another ping.

Oh fuck yooou

Goddammit. I’m going to have this stuck in my head all day.

I hate you.

That was followed by several rows of middle finger emojis, and I was laughing so hard I nearly dropped the phone and my coffee. I was probably going to pay for this, but that was okay. Totally worth it.

I’d say I’m sorry but we both know I’m not. Getting off the bus and heading to a team meeting—TTYL

I’m Amazon Priming spider eggs right now. They’ll all be hatching in your room when you get home.

I just laughed, pocketed my phone, and continued into the hotel.

I followed some of my teammates into a small conference room for the team meeting, and I took a seat by Bells, Tremblay, and Hoes.

We were early, so everyone was shooting the shit or playing on their phones while we waited for the coaches.

I was scrolling social media when some of the guys walked in, and I caught their in-progress conversation.

“—it’s no fucking wonder you’re playing better on the road.” Spaulding smacked Chats on the back. “Maybe we should ban you from seeing him so you can pull your weight at home.”

Chats met him with a big shit-eating grin. “Yeah, you wish. I’ll get used to it.”

Spaulding rolled his eyes as they walked past me. “Don’t let Coach see it affecting your game, man.”

“Nah, it’s not.” Chats gave my shoulder a shove. “Trev can vouch for me, though—that kind of cardio takes a lot out of a man!”

The response from our teammates was a mix of irritated glares and—from the new guys—snickers. I just gritted my teeth and stared intently at my phone.

“What’s he talking about?” Bells asked innocently. “Why can you vouch for him?”

I closed my eyes and pushed out a breath through my nose.

From Bells’s other side, Hoes quietly said, “Chats is with Trev’s ex-husband.”

The rookie stiffened, and when I looked at him, he was staring at me in horror. “Oh. Shit. Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s fine,” I said. He clearly wasn’t convinced, so I added, “Chats just thinks it’s a lot funnier than it is.”

Elsewhere in the room, someone said to Chats, “Man, I don’t get you. Is getting with someone’s ex really that much a flex for gay dudes?”

I groaned, pressing my elbow into the armrest and rubbing my eyes with my thumb and forefinger.

Chats scoffed. “Nah, but when you see what someone else tosses out?” I could hear the smug grin on his face. “Trust me, this car doesn’t have nearly as many miles on it as you think.”

I was relieved that my teammates responded with muttered admonishments. The newer guys who’d laughed a minute ago were quiet now, having evidently read the room.

Whatever Chats said next, I couldn’t make it out since he was a few rows back. Fine. I didn’t want to know. From the tone of the hushed conversation, though, the rest of the guys weren’t having it.

Well, thank God for that. I really couldn’t have cared less that Chats and Bryan were together, but I had no patience for having it repeatedly thrown in my face.

This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Though maybe now he’d stop doing it so much around our teammates, since they were clearly done with it.

Thanks for having my back, guys. Because otherwise I’m going to throw gloves with him.

Except there was that whole thing about our bullshit blowing back on other queer players.

My life would’ve been so damn much easier if Chats cared about things like that and stopped acting like a twat.

But no, I had to be the responsible adult who cared about other people like us.

I had to be the one who quietly gritted my teeth through his crap so no one else got punished for “those gay dudes who can’t keep their drama out of the locker room. ”

Ugh. I hated this.

Fortunately, our coaches came in a moment later, and the team meeting kicked off. I was only half tuned in. Embarrassment and anger bubbled beneath the surface. Even knowing my teammates were on my side didn’t alleviate this humiliated feeling or the desire to curb stomp Chats.

It made me wonder what Bryan saw in him. He’d never been into guys who were mean-spirited and nasty. Then again, he hadn’t been a vindictive asshole himself, so maybe they were birds of a feather now.

And this guy is around my kids all the time?

That thought made my stomach fold in on itself.

I hoped—and I believed —that Bryan didn’t put up with anyone talking shit about me in front of the kids.

That was one of the few areas where we’d managed to remain civil.

He even put his foot down with my ex-mother-in-law, who’d never been my biggest fan.

She probably had all kinds of things to say about me now that I was her precious son’s asshole ex.

I fought the urge to squirm in my seat as the assistant head coach talked about… something. Whatever. I wasn’t paying attention. I was too wound up about Chats and my kids and… just everything.

Fuck me. It was bad enough I was gone all the time. What if that was driving me away from my kids? What if their potential stepfather was adding his own little wedges to subtly widen the divide?