I thank her again, my words woefully inadequate, but I suspect Veronica gets me enough by now to know I’ll figure it out at some point.
Jogging up the remaining stairs, I make my way to the team meeting room. When I walk in, most of the seats are filled with a few stragglers behind me. I stand at the front next to Coach, who was incredibly sympathetic and understanding. Not surprising. He may be a hard-ass on the ice, but his players are like his sons. I knew he’d have my back.
I know the team will too.
Checking his watch and glancing out over the stadium seating, Coach determines everyone is here because no one would dare be late. I was late once, and it wasn’t pleasant getting my ass chewed.
The podium is mine for the taking, and I walk up to it with purpose. I tap on the mic to ensure it’s on and waste no time. “Thank you all for taking time to come up here. I needed to talk to the whole team.”
I glance at my line mates—Kane, Jim, Jett, and Bain. They glance at each other curiously, each of their expressions suggesting they have no clue what I’m talking about.
Baden is in the front row, his forearm crutches on the floor. While he doesn’t know the specifics, his gaze on me is knowing.
And approving.
He knows I’m taking my place on this team in all ways right now.
“My stepfather—Janelle’s father—was an abusive drunk,” I start off, not holding back anything. “And when I was fifteen, he broke my mom’s jaw, hit Janelle who was only four at the time, and then attacked me. I stabbed him with a kitchen knife, and the police determined I was acting in self-defense.”
The room goes still and silent. I look directly at Baden. “I’m sharing this with you now because my mom has decided to go to the media and is twisting this story to her benefit. I should have shared this with you long before now.”
I tell them everything. Every painful detail of my growing up with an absent father, an alcoholic abusive stepfather who eventually did jail time for his abuse, my mother who took him back and sent me away because Bruce was more important than me, as well as the most recent troubles with her newest husband who tried to assault Janelle. I finish up by telling them about what happened in the store yesterday. I’m sure Aaron knew about that part by virtue of being Clarke’s fiancé. I have no clue if he told anyone about it, but I don’t care. They deserve to know the ugliness, because now it’s out there for everyone to judge.
“I’m sorry,” I say in conclusion. “I should have laid this all out before, and now this is going to get ugly. I’m not engaging with my mother in the media. I talked to Coach, and I’ll let the team’s public relations group handle a statement on my behalf. It will die down, especially once they formally charge Shep. I expect my mom will slink back home to West Virginia, if she’s not charged, and I won’t hear anything else about it. But until then, you’ll probably have reporters asking you about it, and again, I’m sorry.”
“No offense,” Bain says, always one to say what’s on his mind, “but fuck your mom and her husband.”
The rest of the team vocalizes pretty much the same opinions, and I can’t help but grin, my eyes sliding to Baden. He gives me a silent thumbs-up, proud that I finally opened up.
Over the next fifteen minutes, the team files out, but not before every player stops to give me a fist bump, a slap on the back, or a few words of support. Baden walks by like a pro, and while he’s wearing the slimmer leg braces, he’s holding both crutches in one hand and not relying on them at all. He looks solid.
Baden nods and winks on his way out the door. Tacker offers to call Nora—who is a psychologist—and get her here for me and Janelle to talk to, but I point out that would be a dick move on my part to accept since she’s only a few weeks from her due date. Tacker has the grace to blush, but I know he’s just trying to offer some immediate help.
And I’m proud of myself that I actually knew that bit of personal information about Nora and her due date. I’ve apparently soaked up more than I’d realized while spending time with my teammates.
The room doesn’t completely clear, and when I look back, I see my line mates waiting for me.
“Do we need some type of ass kicking on this Shep dude?” Jett asks.
“Because if so, we’re in,” Bain adds.
Jim shakes his head. “I’ve got a kid, so I’m not doing anything illegal, but I’ll support anything y’all want to do. I’ll cover bail money.”