Chapter 23
Chapter
Cormac
We’d arrived home last night after five days away, and we had a light practice this afternoon before tomorrow’s game. I called the guys over during a water break. We were all hot, sweaty, and a bit out of breath, thanks to the fast-paced skate sprints Coach Whittaker had put us through. Next, we’d match up for some time with our offensive or defensive coaches to work on individual skills before we spent the final hour of practice in a scrimmage.
Naese took off his helmet and swiped his forehead with his gloved hand. I scissored my legs, trying to ease the burn in my thighs, even as I kept the muscles warm.
“We have a problem. Our women went over to Lola’s today,” I said with a furtive glance at the coaching staff. Ostensibly, we were supposed to be working on improving our timing between offense and defense, but…well, we were getting our asses handed to us by our wives, and that sucked.
Stolly hung his head. “They’re just better at this feeling stuff than we are.”
I wanted to deny that, but I couldn’t. “True. And Cruz hasn’t locked Vivian down, even though she’s been here for a couple of weeks now.”
“It’s still early,” Naese said, but he looked worried.
“It’s because men are taught to provide, not to feel,” Maxim rumbled out.
As one, we turned to look at him.
“I’ll be damned. Maximus is a philosopher like our Cruiser,” Naese said.
“Do not ever call me that again if you want to keep all your limbs,” Maxim said. He didn’t change his expression or raise his voice.
Naese skated back a foot, hands out. “Never again.”
Maxim gave him a sharp nod.
“We can debate how our culture fucked us up and anesthetized our ability to be fully human later,” I said. “Right now, we need to get a step ahead of our wives and close this deal between Cruz and Vivian.”
“How do you expect us to do that?” Stolly asked. “And I’m still stuck on Maxim’s revelation that he understands that people have emotions.”
“I will pound you into the ground,” Maxim said.
“No wonder Ida Jane thinks you calling her Fists is an endearment.” Naese shook his head “You have to subtlety of a rock.”
“Gentleman, you can argue, gossip, and plot later. Right now, you’d better skate your asses off,” Coach Whittaker said as he came up beside me.
“Yes, Coach,” we all mumbled.
“Before you go…” Coach cleared his throat. “Paloma told me the women know we asked Lola to help get Vivian to Houston. She said, and I quote, ‘Game on’.” He looked around the group. “I did not appreciate that comment, and I do not like to lose.”
Stolly heaved a sigh. “We can’t beat them. This is their game.”
“So we find a place where we can win,” I said.
They looked at me as if I’d grown three heads. “Come on! We’ve all wooed our women. We can do this.”
“Meet me in my office after practice,” Coach said. “And come with good ideas.”
Once cleaned up, we slouched into Coach Whittaker’s main office in the top part of the arena. This area was clearly designed to impress businesspeople and had little to do with the ins and outs of the exercise, nutrition, physical therapy, and nitty-gritty of winning hockey games.
This office was large and airy with a statement desk made out of some pale wood, a conversation area that had two couches long enough for me to sleep on comfortably, and a full bar that didn’t have any alcohol but held different seltzers, soda, and fresh-squeezed grapefruit and orange juice.
“Get a drink, sit down, and let’s plan,” Coach said. “Lennon’s coming up in an hour, and we have to get all the details down before then so he can’t screw this up.”
“Is that possible?” Naese asked. “I mean, we’ve all screwed up with our wives at some point.”
“True,” I said. “But none of us quit talking to our wives…” I cleared my throat. “Maybe, Naese, you’re the best one to discuss how to rebuild trust.”
The younger man shot me an annoyed look as he flopped down at the far corner of the sofa. He popped open his can of fruit-infused water and drank deep. The rest of us plopped into the comfortable cushions with sighs of pleasure. We were big men; we rarely fit on standard furniture. These couches weren’t just covered in a buttery soft dark leather, they were big enough to accommodate our frames and both soft and firm enough to support our bulk as well.
“So?” Maxim asked. “When I needed to win over Ida Jane, I whisked her away?—”
“Tennessee isn’t really a dream location,” Stolly said.
“Well, we can’t all get time off to traipse around the world,” Maxim shot back.
“I cooked for Millie. And held her hair while she puked. And slept on her too-short couch.”
“Well, I’m not sure the last two work, but the first one could,” I said.
“I think we’re missing the point,” Naese countered.
“What do you mean?” Coach asked.
“I mean that Cruz has to show Vivian he’s there for her, not just say it. All these things—taking her on a trip and buying shit, cooking for her, me moving Hana in with me—those are our way of showing that we care.”
“Great.” I slumped down in my seat. “He can’t do that easily. And by the time we figure it out, Keelie’s going to be smirking at me during their wedding.”
We all stared glumly out the window. Naese heaved a sigh. Coach scratched his head.
The clock tick-tick-ticked toward our doom.
“We’re shit at this,” Maxim said. He stood and began to pace.
“No, we’re not,” Stolly said. He rose and confronted Maxim. “I love my wife, and I tell her that often. I love my daughter, and I tell her even more often. This isn’t about our ability to have and…and show emotions, it’s that…that…”
“We’re shit at creating the kissing scene from The Little Mermaid ?” Coach suggested. At our looks, he shrugged. “Trixie went through a huge Little Mermaid phase. I’m pretty sure I know all the words to all the songs.”
I pointed at him. “That right there. That’s the dedication we need.”
“Serenade us, Coach,” Maxim said.
“Yeah, sing for us. Maybe it’ll get us in the mood,” Stol said.
To my surprise, he did. I winced when he went flat, but Coach had a decent voice and could carry a tune.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Cruz roared from the doorway.
Coach trailed off. Naese groaned.
I jumped up and pointed at Cruz’s sweatshirt. “Dogs!”