I knew Jenna would not be happy with what happened Sunday night, but I did not expect a little blurb from Ms. Strauss about how important it will be for the Mariners to “keep their heads about them during this crucial three game road trip, as even a five point cushion could in theory become a one point anchor below the line should catastrophe strike.”

  When I told Jenna about the slight in the paper she just texted “could have been worse. she was pissed. we all were.” After reiterating that I was in fact safe, sound and everything was fine, she rightly pointed out that I put my phone on airpne mode for two hours after stealing our ride home from the bar without even a word of acknowledgement of “your sicko antics.”

  By the time Jenna, sans Riley thankfully, made her way home to our apartment I had been ruthlessly pacing the entire time contempting how I had just blown up my entire life, and the lives of like 25 other guys who were hoping for some pyoff action. I did not get into bed until around 4:30 am as Jenna had to talk me down from the repeated panic attacks, something neither of us have had to do since our early days in college with one another.

  Seattle thankfully is only a four and a half hour drive from Olympic City, so we are taking the bus on this road trip. We leave by 10, get there around four pm, have a little evening skate to be fresh then py on Tuesday. We’ll drive to Olympia the next morning, py on Wednesday evening and then drive to Portnd that night. We’ll get in after midnight, get to sleep in on Thursday and have a day off in the city. Friday will have a morning skate, then an evening game. Saturday morning its back to Olympic City, where we can go home and rest for the evening before Sunday’s te afternoon home finale. This week is going to be long, exhausting and I really do not want to take part in any of it. But, there’s no one else that can py these games. My deranged backup thinks he may get the Olympia game, but fat fucking chance. All three are mine, and I’m fucking terrified. Not because I don’t think we can win. Olympia is good this year, Seattle is a wild card team just above us and Portnd sucks. Pying Washington’s teams now likely means that we can get some advanced looks at our first two pyoff opponents if things stay where they are.

  I managed to get four hours of sleep and then promptly pass out on the bus. I sit as far away from Brock as I can, even going as far to sit next to the weirdo goalie that I am forced to share oxygen with solely so that he does not corner me on any of these bus rides. Coach doesn’t notice a thing, but thanks to the luck of the draw I am rooming with Scott for the first three games in Seattle and Portnd. That means I can avoid Brock as much as possible. Just hole up watching game film or something. Even the guys are locked in this week, there won’t be any unpnned excursions out after games. It was crunch time, and we had a job to do. Two wins and an OT loss in the final five games sealed our own fate. Wouldn’t even need Eureka to lose any games. We could do this, right? We had to do this.

  Pulling into the hotel in Portnd at 1 am was a crime. Whoever scheduled this road trip was intentionally trying to sabotage any chance we had at chasing something we all wanted. Clearly something nefarious was going on at the league office, and it was designed to drag the Olympic City Mariners down into a situation so humiliating that New York would be forced to cut ties with them and the league could move the franchise to like Quebec or something in order to boost attendance.

  Anyone who tells you that athletes don’t check scores during the games is a liar, and anyone who says that athletes don’t think about the rger situations they are in and not just “taking it one game at a time” with short memories like the media training tells us to is more naive than anyone I’ve ever met. We lost both our games in Washington. Badly, too. I was super off. I fucking wonder why. 4-2 and 5-1 were the scores and we were never in either. Eureka won its only game too, so now we have a three point cushion and they have a game in hand. It was quite possibly the worst possible outcome for this start of the three game trip.

  We had a day off upcoming, and I just needed to find a way to avoid everyone on earth to prevent Brock from having any sort of contact with me. I got some stares during the games, but he mostly left me to myself. This all could probably be solved by some small communication and actually discussing the predicament we found ourselves in. I wouldn’t have to do anything more than out myself, no feelings needed to happen. He had a trans sister, he had trans friends. He would be cool with me being trans. But it was clear he had a crush on Rhea. And while Rhea was me, he could not have a crush on his teammate. That’s not a can of worms, but a bucket of them. Probably an entire pnet of worms that we’d have to sift through and figure out how to deal with because that could only end in disaster. For both of us! I could not sabotage that man’s career because I had the delusion that I could be a woman in pro sports and I could date the first guy that stole my heart. No one would see me as a woman, I’d be a joke and bckballed from the league. Brock would be beled a pervert and no team would take a flyer on him. They’d probably also brand him as gay, for even considering liking a teammate when they were a boy and he’d be bcklisted as well. I could not let that happen, under any circumstance. He was on a trajectory of greatness. I could never live with myself if I pyed a role in stopping that.

  By the time I made it back to my hotel room, I knew both Scott and I were so tired that neither of us were in the mood for talking. I preferred that actually. Just be as utilitarian as possible. That worked for me for a long while. Why couldn’t I go back to that and get back on track? We needed two wins. Well, three now, unless we got to OT one time. That was a good idea, throw everything away and just go back to the basics. Maybe I could hold it for a pyoff run. Maybe.

  As I was getting into bed I noticed a rge number of text messages on my phone. It looked like I had been added to a group chat without my permission. Titled “Damage Control - girl edition” it had Riley, Jenna, Lia, Sam and Cra in it. Yes, our trainer who apparently knew everything about me was present despite me routinely forgetting everything about her.

  “Rhea, we need to know what happened. We want to help - Cre Bear,” Cra sent.

  “Yes, we’re owned fucking details,” Sam said.

  “I tried to tell them,” Lia wrote.

  “Okay, okay one second. Just got in the hotel.” I wrote back.

  And then I typed. I typed and typed and typed. Spilling everything. It read like a message you get from someone after you broke up with them and they were cursing you out and demanding answers for how you were treated this way. I knew I was not getting out of this, especially a few days after treating my friends like crap even if it was a DEFCON 1 type emergency.

  “Thats…a lot,” Riley wrote, possibly from down the hall!

  “Okay I can forgive a lot of that,” Jenna wrote. “Knew some of it when we talked, but damn girl.”

  “This is a mess,” Cra wrote. “A mess you have to fix.”

  “I don’t even know where I’d start,” I wrote back.

  “That’s fine. You’re frazzled right now, but this staff worked too fucking hard for you to trip at the finish line and deny us a run.”

  “Cra, really?” Sam said.

  “Sorry. I just see something in these guys. Everyone does. And now everyone is fucking panicking because well, now I know why.”

  “I”m avoiding Brock. Until the season is done.”

  “Terrible idea,” no shit Sam.

  “Truly awful,” not you too Jenna.

  “Do not approve,” I don’t care Cra.

  “Nope. But you will tomorrow,” thank you Riley. “You’re with me.”

  “Wouldn’t that be weird,” I asked?

  “Nope. Cleared it with the team’s media guy. Need you for an on the record doing that goalie piece, running it right before your pyoff run.”

  “That’s if we make it.”

  “Hopefully it lights a fire under your ass, then.”

  “If anyone found out about this chat…”

  “I don’t care doofus. Someone else make sure he talks to Brock when we get back.”

  “You got it babe.”

  “BABE?” I wrote.

  “These two are so moving in during the offseason,” Lia said.

  “You’re just sad you missed your chance,” dang Sam!

  “Correct. But, I’m happy for them.”

  “Fine, I’ll talk to him. Jesus.”

  I then go five straight “Good girl” messages in a response.

  “This is a really devious pn you came up with.”

  “What can I say, the media is as evil as you think.”

  I was sitting down with Riley in a hip coffee shop in Portnd, in the early afternoon the day before our next game. I was not confident about this one, but praying that Eureka would lose today helping us out. I could not have us going home out of the pyoff picture and needing to talk to Brock. I don’t think I’d come back from it.

  Our interview started to go well. It was a real technical questioning about goalie techniques and what I changed since the trade deadline. The kind of feature that would be perfect for a Saturday sports section when the team wasn’t pying. Like I’ve long said, this girl was too good for being a reporter here.

  But the mood changed about 15 minutes in, when Brock came into the cafe we were in.

  “What are you doing to Marksy, Riley?” Brock strode right over to us without even ordering, and he looked pissed.

  “Finishing up a feature. Cleared with the team. Nothing foul, Lazenby.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Probably because I did not buy the same reason you were at a lesbian bar st week.”

  “Oh, so we’re continuing the digs aren’t we? I read your preview.”

  “I’m gd you subscribe to local news!”

  “Okay, okay. Settle down everyone,” good one Rhea. “What is going on Brock?”

  “Well, Scott mentioned you were doing an on the record today and well we’re pying like shit and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t getting in your head.”

  “She’s not. I’m an adult I consented to this interview.”

  “Okay, well sorry for caring.”

  “No need to get so snippy Lazenby. Not all of us are trying to tear at you, despite what your family likes to say.”

  “Uncalled for.”

  “So was barging in here while I’m trying to work. I’ll make sure to jump on the ice during your next practice.’

  “Okay, everyone shut the fuck up.” I was getting pissed. “We do not need this right now.”

  “Marksy’s right,” it was nice Brock was defending me.

  “I know they are.”

  “I wanted to do this interview now, I needed to think about things going right. Brock, stand down. We have a game tomorrow. Enjoy the day off. I want to clear my head after this.”

  “We need to talk, though.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. We can. But like I said I would like the day off to clear my head. We can chat when we’re back in Olympic City.”

  “Its kind of urgent.”

  “Can you even hear?”

  “I don’t need you jumping down his throat Riley. I can take care of myself. I know I have to talk with Brock.”

  The two of them gred daggers at each other, this was going to be a nightmare.

  “Please. I just want to finish this up and then go for a walk. Can everyone just at least fucking respect that.”

  “Of course Marksy.”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Great. Now let me finish this interview Let’s get coffee on Saturday, Brock. Clear the air, okay? I don’t need Riley butting more in my life.”

  “Fine. I don’t want her around you either.”

  “Well she’s my roommates girlfriend, so. Py nice.” Riley blushed at that. Ah, everyone around me pairing off, what a not complex wonderful thing happening to me. Keeping everything at ease.

  “Yeah, I’m Jenna’s girlfriend.”

  “Is that what’s got you upset Brock? I just learned about it too.”

  “No, I didn’t know. Good for you both, genuinely. She’s really. Nice.”

  “I know she is.”

  “For fucks sake everyone turn down the fucking heat. Or I’m walking away right now.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Good. Brock, shoo. We’ll talk soon. Riley, what’s your next question I would like to go on that walk. On the record, rexation techniques these st few weeks have been incredibly helpful towards my success. And I know a rock solid goalie helps any team immensely. What is your next question?”

  I pointedly paused after that hoping to get everyone around me to drop it. Riley signed and went on with her questioning. Brock, to his credit left immediately after. Just what I needed, more drama before this key game.

  I sighed as the bus pulled back into Olympic City early on Saturday morning. Another tough loss, 3-2 to this time and Eureka winning one of two games meant we had a one point cushion with two games to go. A win at home would clinch a pyoff spot, so the building was going to be loud.

  Its the kind of game any young athlete dreams of. The moment overcoming everything showing itself to be important. But overshadowing it was something even bigger. My conversation with Brock. I got him off my tail this road trip, but I still had to talk to him. It was clear from that coffee shop in Portnd he knew something was up. I knew he, he knew it and Riley knew it. I took that knowledge into the game and let in three first period goals. It was bad. Coach almost pulled me. But thankfully I pulled myself together mid game and recovered. My st two periods were how I had been pying before. Good hockey. I saw the puck and I saw their attempts to be a solid team. We could do this. We had a cushion and even good teams overly rely on some cushions when having a minor fall.

  It was time to dig deep and show what we were made of. If you wanted to win in the pyoffs, you had to prove you belonged there. And right now we did not belong. I was going to own this conversation, figure out where to go and fix this. I owed it to my team, to Brock but most importantly my fucking self. I was going to tell him how I felt and I was not going to apologize for who I was. I would say that there were some unfortunate missteps and ck of communication. But I wouldn’t apologize for it happening, just how it was handled. I was going to tell him I loved him. I was going to do what I do best: make a fucking save.