Chapter 9 – Cooper
Chapter Nine
Cooper
T he shrill ring of the phone makes me bolt straight up in bed. Patting around on my nightstand, I find the offending instrument and silence it before lying back down. The one perk of not playing with the team this season is being able to sleep in. By sleeping in, I mean not getting out of bed before the sun rises.
I usually wake up at six a.m. and do my morning routine, then grab a protein shake for breakfast on my way out the door. There’s a twenty to thirty-minute drive to the stadium, depending on traffic. When I arrive at the stadium, there’s no time to waste. I have to get suited up in all my gear, including my new fancy knee support pants and robo knee, courtesy of Murphy. After stretching and doing some lightweight lifting, I’m on the ice, ready to start practice by eight a.m. Between media availability time slots and physical therapy, most days, I don’t leave the rink before dinner time.
I’m moments away from drifting back to sleep when the shrill ring of my cell fills the room for a second time. “What the fuck could be this important?” I roll over in bed, noting the time on the clock, which reads 8:30 a.m. Instead of silencing it again, I grab it off the nightstand and bring it to my ear. Nothing but a grunt leaves my mouth as I wait for whoever is calling to tell me what they’re calling for.
“This has been the longest ride home from The Chill Zone in history.” Alise’s singsong voice rings through the line as I flop backward on the bed with a groan.
Fuck. I got so caught up in watching Mormon Wives with Momma that I spaced on calling Alise back. The mindless television and time with Momma were exactly what I needed to get my mind right. I was so exhausted from the day's events that I ended up passing out on the couch after watching the finale. Momma woke me up around eleven and demanded I get into my bed.
“No need to apologize. I forgive you. I also sent all the parents on your team an email explaining why you weren’t at the meeting. I told them you had an emergency and had to run out of practice last night. I assumed you?—”
“I have an email address?”
“All the coaches with the club have an email address. Didn’t you even look at the paperwork I left for you in the rink office last night?”
“Ummm…” My voice trails off as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stride toward the front of the house in search of said paperwork. I stumble into the kitchen to find Momma sitting at the table with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her as she reads the morning paper.
“Want a cup?”
“Please,” I groan as she motions toward the empty seat across from her at the kitchen table. Sitting on the table is my missing paperwork packet, wallet, and keys. I mouth “thank you” to Momma as she places the cup in front of me.
“Have I given you enough time to locate the detailed packet of paperwork I painstakingly put together for you?”
“Alise, it’s only about ten pages long. I doubt this took you longer than ten minutes to put together,” I respond as I pick the packet up off the table and start flipping through it.
“It took me fifteen, but that’s beside the point.” Alise huffs loudly into the phone before continuing. “Now, will you stop interrupting?”
“Continue.”
“Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I spoke to Coach James last night, and he made sure the parents knew practices were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 7-8:30 p.m. In the email, I included your cell phone number and reminded parents that practice is canceled this Friday because of the Timberwolves’ exhibition game against the Wolverines. I also encouraged all the boys to attend or watch the game on television.”
“Oh,” is the only response I can muster.
Alise covered almost everything I would’ve with a first email to my team, but my mind can only focus on one thing, and not what should be most important.
Friday night will be the first time the Timberwolves will play without me on the ice. Not only that, but they’re playing our rivals and the only team standing between us and another Stanley Cup win. But the only thing I can focus on is the fact that practice is canceled on Friday. Which means I won’t have any excuse to see Ramona again before practice on Monday.
“You didn’t forget there was a game, did you?” Alise’s voice switches from sounding confused to teasing in a matter of seconds. “Or is there another reason you’re thinking about something other than hockey for the first time in your life?”
“No.”
“No? Just no? That’s seriously all you have to say?”
“What else do you want me to say, Alise? This is the first time since I joined the team that I won’t be on the ice with them for a game. I play sick and injured. Nothing has ever stopped me from being on the ice with my team until now.”
“Fair point, but you know they can do it, right? The Timberwolves are a solid team. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that they’ll make it back to the playoffs this year.”
Everything she’s saying is right. Beau will lead the team to victory, with or without me. They might have some growing pains in the first few games with the line changes, but they’ll be fine. It’s one reason Coach wanted to set up some exhibition games before the official start of the season. That and also using them to test my knee on the ice in game conditions. Too bad Murphy wouldn’t sign the fuck off on it.
I reach down and rub my knee. Thankfully, the ache from last night’s practice has subsided, mostly because of the painkillers and ice my mom forced me to put on during our impromptu TV binge last night. “I just hate not being on the ice with them.”
Momma gives me a sympathetic look, reaching across the table to give my hand a squeeze. “We know, but you’ll be back on the ice with them by playoffs.”
“You’re damn right, I will be,” I respond, grabbing my cup off the table and taking a big swig of coffee.
That’s the only silver lining to this whole mess. Yes, I’ve been banished to coaching back in Redwood Falls, but the season here ends in early March, at the latest. If I play my cards right, I can get Murphy to sign off on my returning to the ice just in time for the playoffs.
“Thanks for the pep talk, Alise.”
“Anytime, Coop. Anytime,” Alise responds before ending the call.
I continue sipping my coffee as I flip through the packet Alise made for me. There isn’t anything out of the ordinary included in the packet. Open and closing times for the rink. Free skate and practice schedule for all sports that call The Chill Zone home.
“I’ll have to figure out something once the season starts if we have games on Saturdays. I don’t want the team going too long without ice time.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” I jump at the sound of Momma’s voice. I completely forgot she was even sitting at the table with me.
“The schedule is packed pretty tight for Thursday. We may just have to hope we don’t get many Saturday games. If we have them, they’ll more than likely be away games.”
I continue poring over the schedule, trying to find any holes we might slide into if I ever have to cancel practice. There aren’t many, but I think I can work with this. I’ll talk to Coach James next practice and see if he’s started his team doing any weight training. If so, maybe we can coordinate some workouts. Twelve is about the age I started lifting weights. as well. Not something I would recommend them doing on their own, but with the older boys helping them out and Coach James and me tailoring a regimented program for them, I think it would be great.
“This is a good look on you, son.” Momma smiles, pushing back from the table and placing her mug in the sink.
“What?”
“Coaching.” She grabs the coffee pot, holding it up to silently ask me if I want some more, but I decline. “I haven’t seen you this excited since you were teaching Kyle how to skate on his fifth birthday.”
I chuckle softly at the memory. “He couldn’t even tie his own shoes, but he was determined to get out on the ice with his brothers.”
“The three of you can do no wrong in his eyes. I just wish—” Her voice trails off, but I know exactly what she’s thinking.
“That Cole would make more of an effort,” I respond through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to wave a magic wand and make everything right in our family.
Cole walked out the door of our childhood home the day after his high school graduation and rarely comes back. Cole, Beau, and I were thick as thieves growing up. I was afraid that things would change after Dad passed away, but we all became closer than ever. That is, until right before his sixteenth birthday, when Cole distanced himself from everyone. Choosing to hide away in his room instead of with the family. Things only got worse when the NHL offers started pouring in.
I made sure all three of my brothers understood the natural order of things for them. I didn’t want them to depend completely on hockey. They were to get a college degree. It could’ve been a basket weaving degree for all I cared. They just had to have a plan for themselves after hockey. Cole disagreed, and we fought about it a lot. No matter what I said or how I explained it to him, it only made matters worse.
The night of graduation, we had a huge fight about him signing with the Wolverines. He swore it was because I wanted to keep him in my shadow, forcing him to live a life he didn’t want, but that wasn’t it at all. I just wanted to protect him, to protect all of them, and give them a chance to do whatever they wanted with their lives. I chose hockey for my own reasons, but I wanted them to have options.
We both said some shitty things to each other that night, and in the end, he walked out the door and signed a contract with the Wolverines. Thankfully, Remy agreed immediately to represent him and make sure they didn’t take advantage of his na?veté. It’s worked out well for both of us, but I hate not speaking to him. I live for the little updates I get from Momma and Remy, but I want Cole to be a part of all our lives again. Instead, we hardly speak to each other, choosing to let the numbers on the scoreboard speak for us whenever we play each other.
“Cole has his own demons. All of you do. We just need to have faith that he’ll find his way back home to all of us.”
“Has he not been calling?”
Cole may not want any type of relationship with his brothers, but he’s always kept in touch with Momma. He usually asks her to have dinner with him when he’s in town for games, but that’s even been less frequently now that I’ve been spending more time here. God forbid he has to have a conversation with his big brother. Very mature of him, I know.
“Of course, he has,” Momma scoffs. “The boy doesn’t have a death wish. We’re having dinner this weekend after the exhibition match.”
“Good,” I respond, throwing back the last of my coffee before pushing away from the table. “Although I’d love nothing more than to spend the entire morning with you, I need to get a workout in. Murphy is going to want a full report at the game on Friday.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I talk about nasty things like feelings and you run for the hills.”
“You know me too well.” I chuckle, kissing the top of her head, and then grab my keys off the table before heading out the door.
Since it’s a workday for almost everyone else, the roads to The Chill Zone are clear. I don’t waste any time and head right to the gym to start my workout routine. It hasn’t changed much since my surgery, just the inclusion of specific stretches to help strengthen my ACL. I spend about thirty minutes warming up on the treadmill, starting with a brisk walk before transitioning to a decently paced run. I start with bilateral squats before moving to single-leg squats and bridges on each leg. I usually continue with a few more exercises, but I want to get onto the ice today to work on some basic warm-up drills. Murphy has given the go-ahead for me to work on non-contact drills for the time being, not wanting to push our luck with full contact yet.
Scott walks into the room, and I suppress a groan. He’s the last person I want to see right now, but it was bound to happen. The hockey club has offices here at The Chill Zone. Even though the rink is used by multiple sports, there’s no doubt it was built to support the hockey club. He hasn’t changed since high school. The same perfectly tousled head of chestnut brown hair and muscular build that made the girls swoon. He’s wearing a green Timberwolves Hockey Club hoodie, a pair of dark-washed jeans, and a perfectly white pair of sneakers.
“I don’t have time for this,” I mumble to myself before turning to give him my full attention. Fingers crossed engaging in a few minutes of small talk will send him scurrying back to his office so I can finish my workout.
“Don’t you ever give it a rest?”
“Not if I want to make it back on the ice in time for the playoffs,” I respond, taking a seat on the open bench a few steps away.
“I hear you. I’m sure the team is going to miss you out on the ice. Whoever is taking your position on the starting line is going to have his work cut out for him.”
Scott moves around the weight room, touching everything he passes. There’s something off about him I can’t place, my mind instantly going to something horrible. Has a parent complained about me already? There’s no doubt that Alise would have warned me if anyone responded negatively to me disappearing after practice yesterday, but someone could’ve contacted Scott directly. Damn. Only one day as a hockey coach and I’m already causing the club problems. I highly doubt Scott would “fire me,” but stranger things have happened.
I push all those negative thoughts from my head. “I have complete faith in my team to win games, but I hate sitting on the sidelines. Only being able to watch is akin to torture for me.”
“I can only imagine. You must have some prime seats for the games.”
Ah, this is what Scott wants: tickets to the game this weekend. I can’t say that I blame him. Tickets to any of our games are scarce, but when we are playing the Wolverines, it’s next to impossible. If you aren’t a season ticket holder or have an in with someone, you’re shit out of luck.
“Yeah. Each team member gets a few tickets for all our home games right behind the box.” I could just offer him a couple of tickets, but I may have one or two people in mind that I’d much rather give my tickets to. Instead of outright telling him no, I throw him a bone instead. “But you are the president of our affiliated hockey club, right here in my hometown. Just give the public relations office a call. I’m sure they can get you a few tickets for any game you’d like.”
Now I don’t know if this is true, but it seems plausible. The Timberwolves are a great hockey organization and do anything they can for one of their own. Scott isn’t a member of the team, but he is family, whether I like it or not. He might not get seats right behind the bench, but I doubt they’d stick him in the nosebleed section either.
“I never thought of that. Thanks for the info, Coop.” He spins on his heels and heads right out of the gym, no doubt going to see if he can score those tickets.
I stay in the weight room for a few extra minutes, ensuring I stretch thoroughly. The last thing I need is to pull a muscle; that would be just one more excuse for Murphy to not clear me to play. I need to get back on the ice before the end of the season. There is more at stake than just the Stanley Cup this year.
I take a deep breath and put everything out of my mind. I can’t do anything if I’m not cleared to get back on the ice. Pushing to my feet, I stride out of the weight room toward the skate rental window by the snack bar. I hate, and I mean hate, renting skates, but I left the city so quickly after my meeting with Coach and Murphy that I didn’t stop to grab my gear.
Since it’s early in the day, there is no one manning the window. Thank fuck for that. My skin is itching to get on the ice, and stopping to make friendly chit-chat so my mother doesn’t have my hide for being rude wasn’t something I wanted to do. I go through the swinging door and quickly locate my size. Being over six feet, there usually aren’t too many size thirteen skates. The rink chooses to focus on the smaller sizes for the kiddos. Only in your hometown can you guarantee they’d have your size skates, especially when all four Hendrix boys are tall with above-average size feet, as Momma always says.
“I thought you were too good for rentals?”
I spin around at the sound of Alise’s voice, the corner of my mouth pulling up in a smirk. “I am, but I need some time on the ice, and I left my gear in Portland.”
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Alise giggles before spinning on her heels and heading toward the small office the hockey club uses near the back.
“Not fallen, improvising.” I place the skates on the counter before following behind her.
She’s the only person I know who can fill in the blanks about what’s going on with Ramona. I can’t get the image of how panicked Alise looked when she realized she had left Beauty without a word. The panic and fear that something horrible had happened, but what? I want to ask. I want to know why Ramona would panic that badly at someone not saying goodbye; what hasn’t she fully recovered from? I want to know everything.
Alise doesn’t give a shit about what I want to know. If she knows anything, it’s locked away like Fort Knox, never to be shared with anyone unless she’s given specific instructions to do so. I usually love that about her, but right now, I hate it.
“How are things?”
What the fuck am I thinking? Out of all the things to say, I choose that. I’m supposed to be trying to trick Alise into giving me any details about how Ramona is doing.
“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” Alise giggles, pulling open the office door and motioning for me to enter.
“True, not my finest work.”
“What do you want to know?”
She doesn’t even spare me a glance as she saunters past her desk. The thing is a mess, sticky notes and coffee cups sitting on every available space. As meticulous as she is with her lists and attention to detail, she can’t keep a space clean to save her soul.
“Stop eyeing my desk, mister. I know exactly where everything is if I need it.” She wags her finger at me before plopping down in her chair.
I raise my hands in surrender, not even bothering to respond. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of Alise’s organized chaos. Unlike me, with my need for everything to be in its proper place, perfectly aligned, and in order, she prefers chaos. Oh, wait, not chaos. Controlled mess is how she refers to it.
Not wanting to go right in for the kill, I choose another tactic. “Thanks for sending out that email this morning to the team. I’m sure the parents had a lot of questions about why I wasn’t at the meeting.”
“Nah, no one really cared. I don’t know if you know this or not, but you’re kind of a big deal to everyone around here.”
“Ha, ha, ha. You’re so hilarious.”
“I know. I’ll be here all week.” She grabs her cell off a pile of papers and glances at the screen, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Is that really what you wanted to ask me?”
“You know it isn’t. Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know?”
“No.” She spins around in her chair, her maniacal cackles filling the room before she stops spinning. “I need four tickets to the Timberwolves exhibition game for tomorrow and not some BS nosebleed seats. Something behind the bench would be perfect, but I’ll settle for the front row near the ice.”
“That’s it?” I shake my head, amused at the length I’d go to get a girl’s phone number. For anyone else, all of Alise’s demands would be hard to accomplish, but between me and Beau, it’s a non-issue.
“Of course not. I also want a tour of the locker room and a meet and greet with some players.”
“Done. As long as you promise to take Beauty and her son to the game with you,” I respond with confidence, pulling out my phone to be ready to enter the number.
“Oh, I’m not giving you her number.”
My eyes narrow at Alise. Two can play at this game. “Then you’re not getting those tickets.”
“We both know all I have to do is call Auntie Mel and she’ll make you give me everything I asked for.”
“We also both know you’d have gotten it anyway, so why are we playing these games?”
“Because I like to see you sweat.”
“Fair. Have I sweat enough for you?”
“Not even close, but I’m feeling generous today. I won’t give you her number, but she has yours and can call whenever she pleases.”
Damn. This is both a good thing and a bad thing. Ramona is, in fact, the mother of a player on my team. However, now she has my number and can use it whenever she wants. Now I just need to figure out a way to make sure she wants to use it. Wait, no, that’s not what I want at all. At least it’s not what I should want right now. I just need to make sure she’s okay, apologize for whatever happened when Alise came to check on me, and then… I don’t know what then.
“I hear you have a promise to a horse to keep. Mona will be at the farm until 11:30 sharp. Trust me when I say she’ll be pulling out of that parking lot at 11:30 on the nose.”
Realization dawns on me the minute the words leave her mouth, and I check my watch. “You’re the best, Lissy Loo Loo.”
I’m already moving out the door towards the parking lot as the words leave my mouth. I have just enough time to run home to shower and make it to the farm on time. Fingers crossed Momma hasn’t already made that apple pie.