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Brandon hears the screaming, sees the Coke roll down the aisle. He hears players praying in a variety of languages, writing notes, typing frantically on their phones. Troy is clutching Harris’s hand like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the land of the living.
Brandon does most of the above too. Screams, prays to a God he isn’t sure he believes in, fires off a hasty email to Michelle.
Afterwards, the players spend the night in the bar getting hammered. He wishes he could join them. But, as coach, it’s not his place. As soon as they get to the hotel, he heads up to his room and spends the night on FaceTime with Michelle and the girls.
The conversation lifts his mood. Honestly, it does.
But he still feels so incredibly helpless.
#
The next day, the kids – despite the fact some of them are almost his age, Brandon still thinks of them as his kids – go to the beach. But Brandon spends the day doing the one tangible thing he can: double-checking the team’s emergency contacts.
Everyone on the team had had to provide an emergency contact when they’d signed their contracts. And he’s going to call every last one of them to be sure they still have the right names and numbers on file. Sure, he could delegate the task. But he needs to feel like he’s doing something constructive. So he’s going to call everyone on the list himself.
As soon as one of the office workers emails him the spreadsheet with all the details, he gets to work.
He leaves a message for Wyatt’s wife, Lisa. He recognises her voice on the outgoing message. Then, he chats with Cassie Boodram. He has a rather awkward but endearing conversation with Haas’s dad in Switzerland.
And then he stares at Rozanov’s entry. He realises he has no idea who the team captain’s people are. His father is dead – he knows that much. And hadn’t he said his mother was dead, too?
There’s only a first name. The phone number starts with 613 – an Ottawa number.
Weird.
But then it gets weirder. Under relationship, it says ‘father’.
‘What? That can’t be right.’ Fantastic. Now he’s alone in a hotel room, talking to himself. A thought occurs to him: Rozanov wouldn’t make up a number, would he? Just so he had something to tick the box?
Brandon hopes not.
‘Well, here goes nothing, I guess.’ He shakes his head and punches the number into his phone.
‘Hello, bon jour?’ A pleasant male voice answered the call on the second ring. The accent was local. Or, well, Canadian at any rate.
‘Hello?’
Shit. Brandon’s supposed to talk. The conversations he’s had so far were so much easier than this one.
If Rozanov has really entered a made-up number, Brandon doesn’t want to give anything away to this stranger.
‘Hi. Erm, sorry to bother you. My name’s Brandon. I’m calling about your son.’
The voice on the other end of the line pitched up a notch. ‘Shit. Is Shane okay?’
Shane? ‘No, erm, your… Do you have another son?’ He braces himself to apologise for interrupting this man’s day.
‘Sorry, maybe I have the wrong—’ Brandon cuts himself off as soon as he realises the other man is speaking at the same time. ‘Pardon?’
‘Is Ilya okay?’
Not a random number then. That’s good.
After another pause, the man – David, apparently – says, ‘I’m assuming you’re Brandon Wiebe, the Centaurs’ Head Coach?’
Brandon nods then remembers himself. ‘That’s right.’
‘I know your team plane had… Well, I know there was an incident. The news is saying everyone is safe. No injuries.’ David pauses. ‘But I imagine it must have been terrifying.’
Brandon opens his mouth to say it was all fine. But that’s not quite true. He releases a small laugh. ‘It really was.’
‘I’m sorry you went through that,’ David says.
‘The kids – the players, I mean – are coping all right.’ Brandon presses down on his knee to keep it from bouncing.
‘I’m sure they are.’ There’s a ghost of a smile in David’s voice. ‘But how are you? You were on the plane too, right? You’re allowed to freak out a bit.’
‘Thank you.’ Brandon allows himself to release the breath he’s been holding – metaphorically speaking – for almost twenty-four hours.
‘And if Ilya’s all right, then I assume you’re just validating the team’s emergency contact details. If that’s the way you handle your fear, well, that sounds like a productive way to cope with a difficult situation.’
‘Thank you.’ After a moment, Brandon adds, ‘So, erm. You’re Ilya Rozanov’s emergency contact?’
‘I’ll admit I didn’t know I was, but I’m honoured.’
Interesting. ‘It says here you’re his father, but, erm… That can’t be right.’
‘I suppose father-in-law would be closer,’ David says.
‘Ah.’ Wait, what? ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise Rozanov had a girlfriend.’
David chuckles. ‘He doesn’t.’
‘But then… Oh.’ As a bisexual man, Brandon doesn’t know why this news is so surprising to him. ‘Shane.’ Curiosity bubbles up inside him as his brain starts making connections.
‘That’s my son’s name, yes.’
‘And you know a lot about hockey.’ The casual fan would be unlikely to know about the incident on the plane – never mind being able identify the Centaur’s coach by first name.
‘It kind of comes with the territory.’ It’s clear David isn’t going to say it.
‘The territory of being the father-in-law of one the country’s best players?’ Brandon pauses for a moment. ‘Or of being the father to the country’s other best player?’
Brandon knows he’s crossed a line. He can’t take his words back. ‘I promise I won’t tell anyone.’ He bites his tongue to prevent the word ‘sir’ from slipping out. ‘Their secret is safe with me.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’
Brandon feels a weight lift off his shoulders. ‘Honestly, I’m relieved to know he has someone. I worry about him sometimes.’
David’s voice softens. ‘I worry about both of them. But they look after each other.’ He makes a small noise that might have been a chuckle. ‘When I saw the news last night, Yuna and I made a bet on whether Shane would abandon the Voyageurs in Washington and hop on the first plane to Florida.’
Images of a wild-eyed Shane Hollander storming through the Tampa hotel, calling Rozanov’s name flash through Brandon’s mind. He brushes them aside. ‘Well, to the best of my knowledge, there’s been no sign of him here. And I feel like the whole world would know if he were.’
Fuck. How have these two hidden their relationship when they’re both constantly under the microscope?
‘I know,’ David says. ‘I lost the bet.’
#
By the time Brandon hangs up the phone a few minutes later, he feels a lot better about life, the universe, and everything. And maybe he’s got a new friend.