Page 34

THIRTY-FOUR

jack

The press conference was set up to be held at the arena, a little off the beaten path for regular bystanders.

The allegations against Coach Dalton that Marcus alluded to exploded overnight with hockey players around the country named in the case.

Rex called me on my landline after our meeting yesterday, begging me to rejoin the digital world and see that I’m not alone in this whole thing.

I also think he wanted me to see that Dalton has bigger issues than me speaking up, and that he’d probably be advised by his legal team to keep his mouth shut about anything relating to the players named in the suit.

And that I should keep a lid on my PED use.

I told him forget it.

I’m not living with the secret any longer.

It’s been a noose around my neck for years and I want it to be out there, damn the consequences.

I made the mistake and I’ve been trying to move forward from my hellish past the best way I can.

This is the next and final step for me.

After pulling into a parking space in the VIP section of the parking garage, I turn off my Audi and step out of the driver’s seat, my heart pounding hard under the layers of my suit.

I can get through this.

I can get through anything, and I’ve already proven that.

Players have their own private entrance in and out of the arena, so I take that elevator to the fifth floor, where all of the conference rooms are located.

The second the elevator doors open, I’m blinded by camera flashes.

Security guards positioned outside the elevator keep the paparazzi away from me as I step out of the car.

Questions hit me the second I appear but I don’t answer.

Hell, I don’t even make eye contact.

Two police officers escort me through the throng of people.

I keep my eyes focused ahead, ignoring questions about Dalton, Carter, and Jeremy’s dad.

Tate, Masterson, and the rest of the team gather by the entrance of the conference room door.

Masterson steps forward and claps me on the back, dipping his head toward my ear.

“We’re all here for you, bro. We’ve got your back, always.” He steps back and winks at me.

“ Ice King. ”

I smirk.

“Thanks.” Then I nod at the rest of the guys.

“Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me.”

They all murmur and smile, and for the first time…

maybe ever…I actually feel part of something.

I’ve been on teams for my whole life, but only now do I feel part of something bigger, more special, more like a family.

That’s mainly on me.

I don’t let people in or else they fuck me over like Carter did.

But right now, in this moment, I feel closer to these guys, some whom I’ve barely spoken to since coming to Oakland, than I have with any other guys I’ve shared the ice with.

I haven’t given them a reason to back me, but yet, here they are.

All of them.

For me.

And in the murkiness of what’s about to happen over the next few minutes, it gives me a spark of hope for the future.

A clean slate where I can start to rewrite who I am and where I’m heading.

People do care. There’s nothing in this for these guys except the desire to show support for a teammate in need.

I can’t say that I’d have done the same for any of them, always too wrapped up in keeping myself closed off and protected to care much about anyone else.

They may or may not know exactly what I’m gonna say in that conference, but they’re here regardless of the impact it may have on them.

I look from one guy to the next, my smile widening.

“I appreciate you guys. So fucking much. Thanks for being here.”

“You’ve got this,” Tate says as I pass him to walk into the conference room.

Sam and Brixton are standing right inside the room.

Sam gives me a quick hug.

“You know I’m always here for you. Anything you need. You won’t be alone in this and we fully support you.”

“Thanks,” I say in a low voice, then turn to shake Brixton’s hand.

I straighten my tie.

“I guess it’s showtime.”

A table is set up in the front of the room.

Rex, Eli, Bob, and Coach Enver are bent over some sheets of paper.

They look up when I walk inside.

And one person sits in a chair directly in front of the microphone.

My throat tightens when he turns around.

Carter’s eyes follow me as I approach the table, slicing into my chest and hammering at my heart.

“Are we ready?” I say.

“Because I’d like to get this over with.”

Rex points to a couple of papers.

“One last time, do you want to go forward with everything or strip out the?—? ”

I hold up a hand.

“I’m telling the full truth. Everything. I read over what you sent me.”

“I have it all here, just in case,” he says.

“And we’ll handle the fallout, whatever it may be.” He backs away from the table.

“It’s go time.”

“Yep.”

Bob, Eli, and Enver wish me luck and take their seats.

I sink into the chair behind the table as the press and spectators file into the room.

Tugging at my tie, I keep my eyes on the table even though I can feel Carter’s gaze burning into my skin.

It prickles and tingles and dammit, that pisses me off because he destroyed me.

I hate that even now, knowing that, he can still have such an effect.

A frustrated hiss of air escapes my lips.

I can do this and then I can walk away, leaving my demons behind to fucking rot.

I’ll never have to look over my shoulder again or wonder if someone’s gonna drop a bomb on me that’ll incinerate my career.

It’s up to me to tell the story and set the record straight.

Rex ushers everyone into the room and silence falls over the space when he picks up the microphone.

“In light of an incident that recently took place, Jack Larson of the Oakland Raptors would like to take a few minutes to speak to you all about his role in it. He will not be taking any questions. Oakland’s team general manager and publicist are here to take your questions after the conference.”

He turns to me, his eyes pleading with me to keep it about Jeremy’s dad.

I take the microphone and pop it into the mount on the table so it’s close to my mouth.

I’ve read through the statement a million times but none of it feels real or authentic.

Just a lot of nice words strung together to keep me from looking really bad in the eyes of the public.

But the real words swimming in my head are a lot darker and uglier, much more real than anything the publicity teams came up with.

And that’s the story that needs to be told.

The real truth. The harsh truth.

Because all of that made me who and what I am today.

Rex stands next to the table, waiting.

Just like everyone else in the room.

My eyes find Carter’s for just a moment, those baby blue pools focused on me like a lifeline that, for a while, promised to pull me out of the nightmare I was living.

Now they only represent broken promises, resulting in my shattered heart.

I fold my hands in front of me and take a deep breath, focusing my gaze on the curious sea of faces in front of me.

“Thanks for coming today. I know you’ve all seen the videos of me assaulting a man. But what you don’t know is why. You may have heard some things and came up with your own theories about how I may be hot tempered, short fused, and aggressive.”

I pause.

“But I’m here to explain and it goes deeper than just what you saw in that video. I’m not here to excuse the behavior, I just want you to hear my side of the story. Then maybe you’ll form new opinions.”

Adjusting the microphone, I clear my throat.

“I grew up in an abusive household. My mother took off when I was young and my father is a violent alcoholic who beat me for years. He also tried to kill me the last time I left my childhood home. At the time, I was playing junior hockey. I was desperate and knew my only chance to survive was to make it in professional hockey. It was all I had. So I made a mistake and took PEDs, performance enhancing drugs. I needed to be the best and felt they could help me get ahead so I’d never have to look back at the hell I came from. After a surprise drug test, my coach, Alex Dalton, blackmailed me with the results. He forced me to do things, sexual things, so he’d keep his mouth shut about my drug usage.”

I pause for a second and look around the room.

Eyes that were judgmental and accusatory upon entering are now shocked and sympathetic.

“Recently, Coach Dalton threatened me about the situation, reminding me of all I have to lose if I tell anyone about what happened a few years ago. It was only then that I’d heard he extorted other players as well and that he’s being brought up on sexual assault charges.”

I drum my fingertips on the top of the table.

“You may be asking yourselves why I’m telling you all of this. I can tell you that it’s not to save myself. I made mistakes, from taking the drugs to assaulting that man. And I deserve to face the consequences. But everything I just told you stemmed from my past, what I grew up with and was forced to face every day until I was kicked out of my house and shot at by the one person who was supposed to love me and accept me, no matter what. My past guided my decisions, and I don’t excuse them at all. I attacked that man because I was triggered by things I witnessed, things I experienced myself living with an abusive parent. I believed he hurt his son and I was trying to help the kid because nobody paid enough attention to help me. I didn’t want him to suffer the way I did.”

My gaze flicks back to Carter.

“You know, people are always so fascinated by my hockey career, my talent and ability. Hockey truly is all that I have and I’d be lost without it. But that’s a sad realization to come to. My past kept me from trusting people and forming meaningful relationships, so I threw myself into hockey, and while I love it, it’s a lonely life. I don’t want anyone to have to go through life the way I have because people were too scared to take action and protect kids who suffer the same things I did. It was wrong and I wish I could go back and do things differently but I can’t. So today, I’m asking for your understanding. I’m not a vicious, dangerous guy. I’m a product of my past, like we all are. Thanks for listening.”

I sit back in my chair and Rex lets out a long breath.

The silence is deafening before utter chaos erupts.

Camera flashes blink like crazy, rising voices battling to be heard.

Rex takes the microphone and starts taking questions.

I don’t know how much more damage I just did to my reputation by going off script and saying all that but fuck, I feel so free.

Like everything weighing me down for so many years is finally lifted.

I can breathe.

Bob and Enver answer questions from the audience and I half-listen, eager to get out of here and put all of this behind me.

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out.

A text flashes on the screen and my blood ices in my veins.

Jeremy.

I’d given him my number and told him to call or text any time he needed anything.

I knew the kid would need a lifeline at some point and that I’d drop everything to help if he reached out.

I stab the screen to open the text.

Hey, it’s Jeremy. Things got really bad with my dad and I need to get out of here before something happens.

Gritting my teeth, I send a response .

Text the address. I’ll be there soon.

About thirty seconds later, he sends the information.

I shove the chair back, ready to shoot out of it when one of the reporters calls out to me.

“Jack, it was just reported that Alex Dalton was found overdosed in a hotel room and pronounced dead at the scene,” someone calls out, holding up a phone.

“Do you have a comment?”

I stare at the reporter and nod.

“Yep. We reap what we sow.”

Turning to Rex, Bob, and Coach Enver, I say, “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”

Then I bolt from the room, ignoring the voices that trail behind me.

I rush toward the elevator, my pulse lodged in my throat.

While I pace in front of the elevators, I hear footsteps pound along the floor behind me.

“Come on, open,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair.

“Jack,” Carter rasps, grabbing my arm.

“Wait.”

My back stiffens at his touch.

When I don’t turn, he walks around so he’s facing me, forcing me to look at him.

But fuck, I can’t. I don’t trust myself.

Not now, not ever again.

“I love you, and I’m so sorry for everything I did. I can’t be without you. Please,” he pleads.

“The only thing I’m scared about now is that you’ll walk away forever and not let me prove it to you.”

I drop my eyes to where his hand still grips me.

I’d wanted to hear those words for so long, to believe them wholeheartedly.

I slowly look at him, my insides shuddering from the pounding of my heart.

“I loved you, too. But it’s just not enough. It won’t ever be.”

The elevator dings and the doors open.

I step inside and face the wall until the doors slide closed because I can’t bear to look back.

I can’t allow myself to ever look back again.