“Yes?”
“I think you might be my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, Monroe. Glad you finally caught up.” He grabs my chin to turn my face to his and his lips are on mine. Someone in the living room whistles but Rhodes doesn’t let up. We stand there like that for a long time before we make our way to the group. They’ve started a rousing game of UNO, and we’re dealt in.
And after everyone has left, I’m in Rhodes’ bed when I think to myself that this is probably the best birthday I’ve ever had.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rhodes
Well, everything has gone to shit.
I put off responding to him long enough, and my dad has finally followed through on something for the first time in his miserable life.
I woke up to six missed calls from Kelsey, three emails with subject lines like “URGENT!” and “READ NOW,” plus a voicemail from Coach that was less than ideal. And to top it all off? A league-issued email summoning me to speak with the NHL commissioner immediately so they can begin their investigation into my sports gambling. Apparently, dear old Dad decided to tell my boss that I was throwing games at the beginning of this season. And that’s a big no-no for the NHL.
My heart dropped into my stomach when I read through the texts and emails.
The accusation alone is enough to set what is left of my career on fire. The NHLPA allows players to bet on any other sport, but we can’t bet on our own or intentionally throw games to ensure a specific outcome. There are three things that can happen if a player is found guilty of an off-ice league rule—you’ll get fined ten thousand dollars for a first-time offender, your contract can be canceled with your team, or you’ll get expelled or suspended for a definite, or indefinite, period of time from the NHL.
Basically, my father just threw a grenade into our playoff season and potentially tainted our wins this season thus far. And after my fights on the ice earlier this season, I’m already on thin ice. An HR nightmare. And even though I know it’s complete bullshit, and they’ll find nothing, an investigation’s public now and it’ll be in the media, attached to my name for the rest of forever, probably.
I text Coachon my wayin response to his messages asking me to come in. In the meantime, I call Kelsey, my hands shaking as I pull my hoodie over my head.
She answers on the first ring. “Nice of you to call back, McKnight,” she gripes, voice clipped and irritated. No doubt she’s been fielding calls all morning. Her annoyance is warranted, but I don’t have the bandwidth to fight with her, too. “When did you plan on telling me your asshole dad was beating on your door again? Anytime soon?”
“Uh…” I hesitate, rubbing the heels of my hands against my eyes.“Neverwas the original goal. I was hoping he would just kind of go away.”
“Stellar. That worked out super-well for you. And me,” she bites out. Usually, I love how no-nonsense and to the point she is. Right now, I need her to be lessabrasive and more get-shit-done. “Tell me something, Rhodes. Do you like making my job exponentially difficult? Is it fun for you to watch me get you out of tight spots and keep your career nice and shiny?”
“Kelsey, could you please just tell me what the game plan is here? I messed up not telling you guys. I get it. But obviously his claims are unfounded, so what are we doing?”
“Well, right now, he is claiming that he has evidence of you throwing games. That you came up with the bets together and split the profits.”
I exhale, pulse kicking up and roaring in my ears. I barely hear her as she continues.
“They’re going to look for any paper or electronic trail that could connect you to a wager made on hockey. Since you guys are in the middle of the season, this investigation has some teeth and they want to get it figured out.”
I freeze mid-step. “What the fuck, Kelsey. I haven’t seen this man in well over a year. I don’t gamble—at all. Let alone on hockey.”
“I get that, Rhodes, I do. But the NHL has to open an investigation now. Weknowit’s nothing,they’llfind it’s nothing, but until then? The media is going to run with this, and you’re sitting out of the games until they’re done investigating.”
“Gah!”A strangled yell rips out of me, the word echoing through my kitchen as I hang up the phone. I’m listening to it reverberate around the room when I suddenly remember Monroe in my bed. Worried I woke her, I go back into my bedroom. She’s sitting up, pillows snuggled in around her, reading something on her phone. She looks up when I walk in, concern etched all over her beautiful face.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “I heard yelling.”
What do I even say?Hey, sweetheart. My dad has gone off the rails and I’m being investigated for gambling that I definitely didn’t do, I’m suspended until the investigation is over, and also I’m all over the media so my career is probably going to tank. Aren’t you glad you decided to be my girlfriend twelve hours ago?
“Did your dad text you at all this morning?” I go with instead.
“Yeah, he said something was going down with the NHL commissioner but didn’t give me any more details. What’s going on?”
“My father has decided to go off the rails, and now I have to deal with it.” That’s a little more subdued than my original explanation.
“Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to come with?”
I shake my head and hand her a house key on a keychain. I had it copied for her a week ago. I was waiting for a better time to give it to her—but anything I have is hers, anyway. She might as well know it. I’m all-in and I have been for a while now.