Between the Pipes (Offsides #3)

by J.J. Mulder

“Why can’t you play hockey?” “Because I’m a Morgan,” he sneers, “and a Morgan has to uphold the family name and further the family business. A Morgan can’t do anything as base as play a professional sport. That’s not a real job.” The vitriol with which this is spoken is impressive. Also, worrying. No eighteen-year-old kid should be this unhappy. “What’s the family business?” “My dad steals land from people and then puts up a fancy hotel that nobody with a blue-collar job can afford to stay at. Sometimes he adds a golf course, because he’s an asshole.” Oh boy. “Maybe, once you get close to finishing your studies, Coach Mackenzie could have a talk with your dad? It’s early days, but if you start getting scouted it might be worth having a chat with your parents. Or I could, if you wanted.” He stares at me, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in a blatant expression of mistrust. Reaching up, he scratches absently at a silver hoop in his nose. I’ve told him not to wear that fucking thing to practice a dozen times. Pick your battles, today is not the day. “No, that won’t work.” He deflates slightly, a little bit of the ire seeping away. I wonder what he would be like if all of the anger was absent. “It’s fine, I’ll figure it out myself.” “All right. But you have my number. Don’t hesitate to call.” Nico had provided the team with all of our contact information on the first day, in the event that there was an emergency that prevented the boys from making it to practice. Or, if any of th...