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chapter twenty-one: he is not the sun

a/n:

i hate wolf stansson pt. 2

tw(s) - daddy issues, mentions of jack reilly

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"By the way, Stansson, you owe me a beach ball."

There's a split second where Rory thinks that Bombay might actually win. But then Stansson pushes himself off the ice, his face twisting with rage, and her cheer gets caught in her throat.

He makes this noise. This growl, like some wild beast on the attack. How fitting, she thinks. For the majority of his career, they called him 'The Dentist.' A clever play on words, it made a fitting nickname for a man who takes genuine pleasure in hurting others-- a man who's now teaching children to enjoy it, too.

The man who helped send her father down the one-way road to early retirement.

Rory's gaze focuses on him rather than her coach.
He changes his grip on his stick and shifts how he stands, and her eyes grow wide.

"Watch out!" She shrieks, gripping the edge of the boards.

Rory's too late. By the time the words burst past her lips, the metal is already hitting Bombay in the bad leg with a resounding thwack. He falls forward with a shout and the roar of her team hushes as she hops over the barrier and goes to her coach's side.

"Are you alright?" She takes a knee, her hands hovering over him nervously.

He waves her off and sits up a bit. "I'm alright. I'm alright."

They're swarmed by the team moments later and she turns to look at Wolf with horror in her eyes.

"What is wrong with you?"

Sneering, he wets his lips with his tongue.

"Nothings wrong with me. You're too weak, just like your father."

Somewhere, distantly in the recesses of her mind, she wonders, just going off the look on Bombay's face and the pure glee in the Icelandic coach's eyes, what her expression is right now.

"Leave her out of it." Her coach huffs as two of her teammates lift him off the floor. "This is between us, Stansson."

"Tell the girl to stop minding men's business if she doesn't want to be burned."

Rory only comes out of her own head long enough to sidestep and keep Jesse from doing something he'll regret.

The two coaches stare each other down again.

"Get your coach off the ice, we have to practice now."

Dean and Fulton both lurch forward to fight, too, but they are also blocked by the group.

Wolf sees them off the ice with another sneer.

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Crowded in Bombay's office, everybody yells at one another.

MacKay, Jan, and Charlie are trying to take care of Bombay but he's snapping at them for trying. Everyone else is arguing about their next move, some people wanting to fight and retaliate, and some people wanting to just go home. They've already accepted defeat in the oncoming game, and their coach's leadership ability is called into question.

Rory, however, leans on the wall toward the back of the room, her arms crossed over her chest and her gaze focused on the floor.

She gnaws her lips raw, resigned and quiet as the Icelandic coach's words consume her mind. Just like your father. Just like your father. Just like your father.

But she isn't like her father.

She's known that for a very, very long time.

They don't align on most things. Not politics. Not morals. Not even standard business procedures.

(Oliver Myrtle is the kind of man who resents his daughter for being born female. The moment she grew out of being his adoring little girl and into her own person-- into a young woman-- he made no effort to maintain a relationship.)

So, if she knows it, and it's something she's sure of, why are Wolf Stansson's words bothering her so much?

"Quiet down!"

Rory flinches as Bombay's shout draws her out of her thoughts and her eyes shoot up to look at him as he slams his palms down onto his desk.

Everyone stops yelling immediately.

"I want you all to take the rest of the day off, and relax a bit before the big game." He says slowly, calmly. "Which is a nice way to say get the hell out of my office."

People start to file out, muttering to themselves or their friends or the coach himself. She pushes herself off the wall when her heart finally stops hammering against her ribs and starts slinking through them all toward the door.

"Everyone except for you, Rory."

She cringes and stops, letting everyone walk past her until it's just the two of them standing in the room, an awkward and tense silence between them.

"Close the door."

She does as told.

That's always been something she's good at, doing what she's told.

"I'm sorry." Are the first words out of her mouth, and they come out slurred and rushed because her mind is so foggy she can't think straight. "I didn't mean to make him mad. I shouldn't have said anything."

Slowly, he limps around to the front of his desk, and his silence, even if it's just a millisecond, worries her more.

"I'm not mad at you."

Her shoulders still retain their tension, but it's not so hard to breathe anymore.

"I didn't keep my promise to you."

"It's okay. Nobody does."

She's joking, or at least trying to, because she's really not ready to have any type of deep conversation with a grown man, let alone this one. Bombay doesn't laugh, though-- he just stares at her so sincerely that it makes her skin crawl.

Wow, tough crowd... Portman would've laughed.

"That was a joke..."

"I know." The faintest smile tugs at his lips. "Are you okay?"

No.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

It's not exactly a lie, maybe just a stretched truth. There's something wrong, but she doesn't know what it is, so she's electing to ignore it until it goes away.

"Because of what Wolf said."

She wraps her arms around herself again and shrugs her shoulders, trying her best to look impassive. "It's whatever."

Bombay silently cocks an eyebrow, leaning back on his desk. Rory squirms under his gaze for a moment.

"Look, my father-- my father is wealthier than you could ever imagine and he's famous and he's got all he wants in the world, so it's not-- there are certainly worse ways to wind up."

He doesn't say anything and she starts to feel itchy, wanting nothing more than to run away.

"When I was just a little younger than you, I had a peewee coach, and he was like a father to me." The tenderness of his voice makes her shiver uncomfortably. "Nothing other than perfection was enough for him. He wanted to win every game, and he wanted to win them big, and, because I was twelve and impressionable, I was willing to do anything for him."

Rory doesn't have to try very hard to picture it. Even as an adult, Bombay is impressionable and easily strung along.

"He wore me down to a little nub, that man. All I could think about was him-- I wondered if he would approve of everything I did before I did it, and I strictly followed the diet he suggested, and I put aside my studies to fit his standards."

Rory glares down at the floor and wrings her hands as she blinks back tears.

"But then I lost us the state championship game, and he kicked me off the team and never spoke to me again."

"Why does this matter?"

"Because, as I grew up, I realized that he wasn't God or anything. He was just one man, and my life didn't have to revolve around him... Your father might be a lot of things, Rory, but he isn't the sun. You are."

Although hesitantly, she does look up from the floor to meet his gaze. She wants to yell at him. She wants to scream, and cry, and tell him that he doesn't know what he's talking about because their situations weren't even remotely similar, but the words die in her throat and all of the vim zaps out of her.

"You're nothing like your father, Rory. Not one bit."

And, for whatever reason, the dam inside of her breaks, and the sheer weight of it all almost brings her down. Bombay holds her up, though. He wraps his arms around her and hugs her to his chest as she starts to cry.

Rory tries to talk again.

She tries to explain to him how much this team means to her. Tries to tell him how they've all shown her a life that's not all being a prop for business schemes, and training until she can't breathe.

That they've shown her fun and friendship and love.

But all she can manage is a broken-sounding sob.

"It's alright." He soothes her, rubbing her back. "I've got you."

Rory wonders if this is what paternal affection is supposed to feel like.

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a/n:

charlie 🤝 rory
getting absolutely fucked over by bombay later on.

like he treated her like shit and, yeah, he feels sorry now, but she's so unused to love that she's going to get attached to him and it's just going to hurt her-

this chapter reads just like this scene, actually

comments and votes are super appreciated! they let me know that you guys like my writing and I cannot stress how much they motivate me to continue! thank you