“What?”
“Nothing.” He starts doing reps, but I stop doing mine. I stare at him as he does slow steady bicep curls facing the mirror.
I drop to the ground and walk over to his phone because I didn't bring mine. He realizes what I'm doing too late, and I have his phone in my hand and have the password punched in before he can put down the weights and stop me. Lucky for me his password has been 9292 since he got a phone. ninety-two has been his jersey number since he was five.
“Hey!” Grady barks as he scrambles to put down theweights without dropping them and I stride over to the other side of the room.
I immediately check his search history. My name is the first thing that pops up so I hit it and… the headline on the first article is like a gut-punch.
Conner Garrison. This apple fell far from the hockey tree.
It’s from a popular sports blog and I scan it before Grady can reach me. Conner Garrison’s dad already had a Cup by his age. So did his uncle. Coach Landry says he wasn’t a positive influence in the locker room.‘A Captain has to lead, not coast on the fact that his dad was a leader.’
“That fucking asshole,” I hiss.
“He’ll be fined by the league,” Grady says as he reaches for his phone, but I block him by turning my back. I want to keep torturing myself. “You can’t bad mouth a player you’re trying to sell.”
My eyes slip to the next paragraph and I read out loud. “GM Chance Echolls says that Garrison might not live up to the hype around his family name but he’s a solid third or fourth-liner that still has something to offer a team, just not the Barons.”
Third or fourth line? That’s… harsh. I’ve never been on a second line let alone a third or fourth one.
“Every player on a team counts, Conner. Youknowthat,” Grady says, his tone matter-of-fact. “And before you argue remember you’re talking to theback-upgoalie.”
My eyes meet his and I feel like garbage. “I don’t care what fucking line I’m on. Honestly. It’s just… Grady, no one is payingmysalary for a fourth liner.”
Now his expression softens. “Lucky for you, this is just a coach and general manager hurling blame grenades to try and keep the world from realizing they’re the problem.”
“Is it working?” I ask feebly.
“Not for everyone,” Grady says. “There are teams out there who will spot the bullshit. Anyone who knows Uncle Devin and Uncle Jordan and Uncle Luc will call them directly for the scoop on you, and trust their opinion.”
I sit on the bench press and run a hand through my damp hair. “I don’t want them to bail me out of this. That’s just a different form of failure.”
"Dude, in the end, as long as you're still in the league, you shouldn't care," Grady says, his hands on his hips as he stares down at me. "I mean hell, we're privileged as fuck. Even me, and my dad never even made the league. But in the end, even if our family name, or family members, open the door for us, we've always proven we deserved to step through it. You havealwaysproved it Con, and you will again.”
I sigh. “I hate every fucking second of this day.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
His phone buzzes in my hand with some kind of alert so I glance at the screen. There's an icon of a yellow face… no, a mask. It kind of looks like a crudely drawn hockey mask, maybe? I turn the screen to him. "What, is this like a goalie chat group or something?"
His face drains of color and he rips the phone out of my hand. “It’s nothing.”
"Seriously, are you talking about this with other goalies in the league?" I ask, wondering if this is a new level of humiliation. I mean, are Tate and Theo texting with their teammates about their poor, loser cousin? Oh god. I can't face them again today. Maybe ever.
“No, you idiot,” Grady snaps as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his sweats. “It’s not a chat group. It’s not hockey-related. I actually have my own life outside of this sport, and this family. You should try it sometime.”
“I have a date with Mac Larue for New Year’s,” I tell him.
His brown eyes widen. “So Tenley isn’t talking out of her ass? You and Mac are a thing?”
“We’re a… mutual distraction,” I say because the explanation feels right. Well, close to right anyway. “She’s trying to get over her shitty breakup and I need something to focus on other than this. So I’m pretending to be her boyfriend for this party her ex and his girlfriend invited her to.”
“Huh.” Grady shrugs. “Well, not as interesting as I’d hoped, but it’s cool. Mac’s great. I like her and I’m sure Beckett is annoyed with the idea of his ex with a Garrison.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “All of that is true.”
He grins. “So let’s get back to working on your abs. Wouldn’t want Beckett to look like he’s in better shape than you.”