𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑼𝑻𝑬𝑺 /𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑦 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑘/ ✓

6.

ROWAN

When I walk through my coach's door, half-wet hair, I hear Millie's words in my head, and I talk without thinking about what I'm saying.

"You're not my father, and I'm the one who decides my fate" I say in my nervousness, and my coach from behind his desk looks at me expressionlessly.

He sighs and massages the bridge of his nose.

"I'd like to ask you what's wrong with you, but I think maybe it's better if I don't know. Please be honest" he looks up at me. "Do you do drugs?"

Dammit!

"No, Coach," I sigh, and close the door behind me. I put my bag down and walk over to the chair, where I don't cut myself off very elegantly. "I'd like to talk to you."

"About drugs?"

"No," I shake my head violently. "I'm just nervous, sorry."

Coach Goldberg is very fit as a fifty-year-old man, but I can still see the stress and fatigue he's been experiencing during the championship. He's always making the most of the team, not just you. That's why I don't want to disappoint him, but as Millie said, it's my life, it's my decision.

"It's about my future plans."

"Ah, yes," he says in his chair. "Have you ever wondered which teams you'd prefer in the NHL draft?"

"Doesn't it matter? After all, I don't get to decide," I shrug.

"Rowan," he sighed. "Sport isn't just about you being the best, it's about building relationships."

"I don't really have a relationship with the New Jersey Devils" I admit it because they were my dream team when I was in high school. Back when I couldn't decide who I really was or what I wanted. I don't have that problem anymore. Creation is definitely my passion.

"Maybe you don't, but that's why the meetings I'm taking you to are important. Relationships, Queen."

I didn't attend last time. I said I was sick, but instead I was partying and drinking by myself... I don't even remember that night, I was just angry because I felt there was too much expectation about me.

"That's what I want to talk about. Oh, my God, I'm actually sitting here with my dad." I don't want to play hockey, I say, but I'll hit myself in the back of the head again when I see the coach's puzzled expression. I mean, but I shake my head. "I want to play hockey, but I don't want to be in the NHL."

"You look pretty upset, Queen."

"Believe me, I've been chewing on this for months," I laugh bitterly. " It's not just a flare-up or a boredom on my part."

"All right, you don't want to be a professional," he shakes his head. "That may change, of course, but then why do you care? Maybe you want to be a coach? It's a good call, but I have to say in advance that you have to work with a lot of assholes."

"Are you talking about us?" My lip twitches.

"You see, you know what I'm talking about," he looks at me with satisfaction.

"Coach Goldberg," I say in a raspy voice. "It's not a coincidence that I changed my degree. I don't want to be serious about hockey. I will continue to give it my full weight because team and sport are important to me. " I owe him a lot, but honestly, it's never been more than a hobby for me. "Of course, in the past, I may have played with the idea of what it would be like, but I never really saw myself there, okay? I'm telling you because for a while... I've been questioning where I really belong. I feel like there's too much pressure from my teammates because everyone expects me to end up with the pros."