shut out

bayard Hockey 1

Bonus Epilogue

Skylar

“They’re going to ask me about what happened the night of the rape.”

I nod slowly at Jacob. “Yes. They are.”

We’re sitting in his bedroom. It’s May. Exams are done. As expected, Jacob aced them. And I did pretty well, too. I’m enjoying my courses so much more. Hockey’s done and tomorrow Jacob flies to Buffalo for the NHL draft combine. About a hundred of the top hockey prospects in the world have been invited to the annual event, including Jacob, Ben, and Grady. This is when NHL teams assess all the draft prospects with medical screenings, fitness tests, and interviews. Jacob’s already done a psychological evaluation, a computer test with a couple hundred questions that measures things like mental toughness and coachability. In Buffalo, he’ll do all the physical testing and have a twenty-minute interview with people from various teams, including possibly sports psychologists. The physical testing doesn’t bother him—he knows he’s in great shape thanks to all the work Jaegar’s been doing with them. But the interview is intimidating.

“This could kill my career. My chance of getting drafted.”

He’s not wrong.

The league is taking things like what Jacob was involved with more and more seriously. There’s a long way to go in changing the culture of hockey, but holding people accountable is a big step in the right direction. My heart hurts for Jacob because I believe him, and I know him, and trust him that he would never hurt someone like that. But those other people don’t know him like I do. And the truth is, he made a mistake that night. “I think you have to be honest with them.”

“Yeah. That’s what Jeff said, too.”  He hangs his head, hands clasped between his knees.

Jeff is his new agent, who he signed after his hockey season ended.

I lay my hand on his back and rub gently. “It’ll be fine. You just have to be honest and tell them you know you screwed up, but you’ve learned a lot since then. Tell them about the things you’ve been doing here at Bayard.”

He lifts his head and squares his shoulders. “Right.”

“Let’s practice. Tell me your story.”

I know it all, of course, but it’s good for him to organize his thoughts.

“Was there something in particular that made you realize you hadn’t handled things like you could have? Something in the training?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, thoughtfully. “The first was when you talked about someone who asked for sex when they’re drunk might not be using good judgment, and that someone can’t really consent when they’re impaired. And then the bystander intervention—when you talked about seeing something that you’re uncomfortable with—it made me realize that I should have done more that night. I thought leaving was a good decision on my part, but that made me see that I should have intervened.”

“And now you know specific skills for how to do that.”

“Right.” He nods emphatically.

“And you even used them, that night when Jack was harassing Ella.”

“You think I should tell them about that?” His brow wrinkles.

“I don’t know. Maybe? It does demonstrate that you bought into what you learned.”

“I’ll see how it goes. If I need to, I can bring that up.”

“For sure you should talk about your initiative on campus.”

“Yeah. It’s a way that I can make a difference, after what happened. I’ll tell them that the Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness Program at Bayard is the best thing that happened to me.” He pauses. “Other than you. But that might not impress them.”

I laugh. “No, you can leave me out of it.”

“I don’t think I can.” He rubs his chin. “Seriously, Sky, you’re the one who opened my eyes. I think I can say that my girlfriend has had a huge impact on me.”

I bite my lip, my cheeks warming. “Aw. Thank you.”

“Thank you, babe.” He reaches for me and pulls me onto his lap. “Couldn’t do this without you.”

I touch his face. “Yes, you could. You can do anything.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Your support is everything.”

My heart expands, overflowing with love for him. “I’m here for you. No matter what.”

I don’t come right out and say it, but if by some ridiculous chance he doesn’t get drafted, I’ll still be here.

I shift myself so I’m straddling his thighs and drape my arms over his shoulders. “Everything is changing.”

“Yeah. But not us. We’re not changing.”

I smile. “No?”

His big hands close around my hips. “I love you. That’s not changing.”

My heart swells again. “I love you, too. It’s just hard, not knowing what the future holds.”

We had a big fight about this a while back. I was freaking out about where he might end up. Well, truthfully, I was freaking out about the fact that he might not want me with him, wherever he ends up. But we had a good talk and were honest with each other. He told me he wants me with him no matter what, but he also doesn’t want to influence my own decisions about school and my career. He wants me to do what’s best for me, not for him.

I love him even more for that.

“Yeah. I get it, believe me.” His fingers tighten on me. “I might not be back here next year. Or maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll be playing AHL hockey somewhere in Iowa.”

I laugh. We’ve talked about possibilities. “I guess that could happen.”

There’ll be decisions to make. But whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.

Jacob

I think I might puke.

It’s a hot Friday evening in June and I’m sitting in the Staples Center in Los Angeles. Skylar’s on one side of me clutching my hand, my mom and dad on the other. My sister’s here too, so exited you’d think she’s the one about to be drafted into the NHL. Bucky and Ella are sitting in the row behind us, and a bunch of other Bears players and staff are also here, sitting behind us along with some other friends who traveled from Ridgedale to cheer on Bucky, Rocket, and me. Their support means a lot to me.

The atmosphere in the building is intense, although the buzz has died down a bit since the first draft picks were announced. The floor of the arena is packed with tables and bodies, mostly men in suits, everyone milling about and talking on phones. Signs on the tables identify which team people are from and there are media people and cameras everywhere. At one end of the arena is the stage draped with black curtains and a huge screen where the prospects go up to meet their new team. The stands are full.

Skylar squeezes my sweaty hand it and slides a smile sideways at me as we watch the number eight pick go up on stage to put on a Condors’ jersey and pose for photos. I was predicted to go as high as number ten. My name could be called any time. Or maybe not. Who knows—teams are making trades for draft picks and everyone has different needs. The first few picks are nearly guaranteed to go to the first teams to pick no matter who they are or what position they play, but now it’s getting down to whether a team wants a left winger like me or if they’d rather wait and snag a strong center like Bucky or a goalie prospect or that big D-man from Brandon still waiting for his name to be called.

My insides squeeze even tighter as the next general manager leans into the microphone on the stage to announce their pick.

What happened with Jacob’s training proposal for the college athletics program? What happens in the draft? Find out more in Cross Check!