Chapter 16 Cassie
Cassie
“Where the hell is Cole?” Coach Reed barks at me across the ice.
Great question.
I’m used to the routine of the assignment by now. I get to practice, chat with Cole and the team for a while, then sit in the stands doing whatever bonus admin work Rick has sent me that day.
Usually, Cole is surprisingly punctual. As much as Cole’s PR is bad lately, the truth is he’s more reliable and disciplined than I expected. Ever since we agreed to act as a team for this season, he’s been taking it seriously.
But today, he hasn’t shown up and isn’t answering my calls.
Coach glares at me. “We’re aiming for a playoff run this year. How am I supposed to make that happen if our starting goalie is missing from practice?”
Shoot. I have no idea what Cole is doing—if something bad has happened, or if he’s just taking a nap and slept through his alarm or something.
I pull my jacket a little closer around my powder-blue blouse and rise to my feet. “I’m on it, Coach. I’ll track him down and get him to practice.”
Coach scowls at me and strides off to yell at one of the rookies. “Stop chatting! Get warmed up! We’re in the championship mindset here, people!”
Miller skates by where I stand by the barrier, spraying ice as he comes to a stop with a flourish.
“Lost track of the goalie, huh?” Miller grins at me.
“I haven’t lost track of him so much as I’m temporarily unaware of his…” I pause. “Okay, yes. Do you know where he is?”
Miller waggles his eyebrows, leaning against the barrier. “Maybe I know. But maybe he can stay lost. You and me could hit up a wine bar after practice.”
“Miller,” I say firmly. “Focus. Where is Cole?”
“Fine, fine.” He straightens up to full height. “Cole was with me at the gym earlier. We were halfway through a workout when he got a call and said he had to go to the AHL arena, I think.”
I frown. “The minor league Nor’easters? Why?”
He shrugs. “Hell if I know.”
“Miller!” Coach screams across the ice. “If you get distracted by a woman on the sideline one more time, I’m going to throw a puck at your head!”
Miller snickers and pushes off from the barrier. “That’s my cue. Good luck Cole hunting.”
Well. I guess this means I’m going to the AHL arena.
Irritation rises in me as I get in my car and start the drive over. Cole is supposed to show up to things we agree on. He’s not supposed to disappear and make me look like an idiot in front of the people who are going to determine our futures.
The arena is in a town on the outskirts of Boston, a smaller version of where the NHL team plays. This is where the next generation of stars battles it out, all looking for a chance to develop their skills and eventually be called up to the big leagues.
It’s where dreams begin.
It’s also where they can go to die.
But, hey. I choose to see the glass as half-full.
I park and walk inside. After flashing my credentials to the security at the front desk, I head toward the players’ lounge and catch the sound of raised voices. With a jolt in my stomach, I recognize one as Cole’s. Slowly, I push open the door.
It just gets more confusing.
Cole is sitting in a chair, anger on his face, opposite a young man.
The other guy has the broad build of a hockey player, but he has a boyish softness to what I can see of his bowed face under his hoodie.
And he’s crying.
A string of curse words is coming from Cole’s mouth. “I don’t give a single fuck, this is absolutely unacceptable, and I’m not goddamn happy about it—”
What the hell—is Cole cursing out this crying kid?
I march over, my blue heels clicking against the floor.
“Cole Taylor,” I begin, “what do you think you’re doing—”
The younger guy looks up at me, startled by the interruption. The sight of his face cuts off my sentence.
That’s Noah Roy.
He’s the star of the Nor’easters’ AHL team. He’s been absolutely dominating games this season, shooting up the list of prospects in all of hockey. I know Rick’s been kicking himself that our rival agency snagged him after he was drafted.
Nor’easters fans are desperately waiting for him to be called up to the NHL and join the team. But the front office is biding its time.
And Cole is yelling at him?
Cole’s eyes rise, and his expression changes from anger to surprise.
“Cassie,” he says, “what the hell are you doing here?”
Noah furiously wipes his eyes as Cole rises to his feet, his chair scraping along the floor. He towers over me.
“What are you doing here?” I reply, craning my neck to give him a fierce stare. “That’s the question! You’re missing practice, not replying to my calls, and now you’re yelling at the best prospect in hockey?”
Cole’s jaw clenches, then he exhales. “Sorry for the interruption, Noah. This is Cassie. She works for my agent. You’ve heard me mention her before.”
My stomach flips. He’s been talking about me to Noah Roy?
Noah stands up, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Cole wasn’t yelling at me. He was yelling, sure, but not at me.
” His expression wavers, his eyebrows turning upward as he glances over at Cole.
“I’m really sorry I made Cole miss practice.
I just—I called him this morning and asked him to come out here. ”
I pause, recalibrating. “You asked Cole to come here?”
Noah nods. Though he’s tall—almost as tall as Cole—up close, he’s baby-faced. His sandy, wavy hair sticks out from under his hoodie, and he has a faint pattern of acne scars across his cheeks.
More than ever, it hits me that the athletes we pin all our hopes upon as fans are… well, when they start out, they’re just kids.
“Cole’s basically been my mentor since last season,” Noah explains. “We met when I was first drafted by the Nor’easters. This morning I had a… panic attack. He’s the person I always turn to when this happens. He was, um, yelling about my agent when you walked in.”
The world seems to tilt. Cole is Noah’s mentor?
Cole used to be the gruff veteran who’d look out for the young guys on the team. But as his behavior worsened over the last year, I thought that version of Cole was long gone.
“I’m so sorry, Noah,” I say softly. “I totally misunderstood.”
Noah stares at the floor. I feel a huge rush of sympathy for him. I know what it’s like to walk around pretending I don’t have a tug of anxiety at the back of my mind.
“Over here,” Cole orders me, jerking his head toward the exit.
When we’re out in the hallway, he closes the door behind him.
“I’m sorry, Cassie.” Cole shakes his head. “It wasn’t my intention to bail on practice.”
“Ground rules,” I remind him gently. “You tell me where you are. Both of our careers are on the line here. Although… in this case, I’m glad you were there for Noah. It sounds like he needs a friend who knows what it’s like to deal with NHL pressure.”
“Noah is a great kid, but he’s struggling with anxiety.
” Cole lowers his voice. “He doesn’t want to tell his teammates or the coaching staff about it.
Hockey culture can be fucking brutal, and he thinks it’ll get him branded as weak.
When he called this morning, he sounded so freaked out…
I dropped everything and forgot to let you know. ”
“It’s okay. You did the right thing for Noah, even if Coach isn’t happy about it.”
“Shit. Yeah, I’ll have to deal with Coach.
” He leans his head back against the wall, silent for a few seconds.
“I had a great mentor when I was starting out in the NHL. A former player. He pushed me really hard to win. But I think Noah needs a different kind of mentorship. He needs someone who can be supportive.”
“Not everyone responds to the same type of mentorship,” I agree. I think for a moment. “The Nor’easters front office might like to know that you’re mentoring Noah. You know that being a veteran leader to younger players is a huge asset for teams.”
“I don’t want to use it for points.” His eyes flicker. “Look, you might feel like you’re supposed to tell Rick about it—about Noah’s anxiety, or about my mentorship—but please don’t. All right?”
A slow feeling of hurt spreads through my chest.
Does Cole really think I’d use Noah’s anxiety as some kind of… bargaining chip for my agent career? Does he really think I’d tell anyone if he asked me not to?
I know exactly what it’s like to carry a painful secret around. To feel like everyone would see you differently if the truth was ever wrenched from you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, my tone cooling.
“I just meant—I know some agents look out for things they see as weaknesses in players. Things like bad anxiety.”
Hurt spreads deeper through me. I take a step away from him. “I’m not that kind of agent.”
“Cassie, I didn’t mean you would—”
“I know you’re cynical, Cole. I know you’re hurting over something you won’t share. But don’t ever try to drag me into becoming cynical too. I’m not the same as other agents, and I don’t want to be.”
I pause by the door, turning back to Cole.
“And don’t worry about front office being mad that you missed practice. I’m going to call Coach Reed and tell him I screwed up and gave you an incorrect schedule.”
Turning on my heel, I push back through the door to the players’ lounge.
I can take the fall for this one. Cole—frustrating, secretly kind-hearted Cole—was there for Noah when he needed him. I care about my career, but I’d rather Cole do the right thing, the human thing, than perfectly stick to his practice schedule.
Every single time.
I take a seat beside Noah. “I’m sorry for barging in and yelling at Cole. I was upset and misunderstood what was going on.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles, lopsided. “Cole says you’re a pretty awesome agent. I was actually hoping I’d meet you at some point.”
My stomach flips. “He—he said that? About me?”
Noah snickers. “You look shocked.”
“I guess there’s still a lot I don’t know about Cole. It’s hard to read him sometimes. For instance, I had no idea he cared so much about mentoring younger players.”
Noah shrugs. “Cole does nice things in private, and unlike most people, he doesn’t care if anyone finds out.”
“That sounds like him,” I murmur.
“He’s been a great mentor to me.” He sighs, dropping his elbows to his knees. “I know I’m good at hockey, but I didn’t expect the pressure to be this bad. I still can’t shake this anxiety that it’s all going to go wrong. How am I ever going to handle the NHL?”
My heart suddenly aches. He’s describing a feeling I’m familiar with.
“I feel the same way, too,” I say. “I’m chasing after a promotion just so I can finally feel like I’m not an imposter. Maybe making it to the agent level will solve all those feelings, but sometimes I wonder… What if I achieve my goal but they don’t just magically go away?”
“Right,” Noah breathes. “Like what if I feel this way forever?”
We sit in easy silence for a few seconds. It strikes me how weird it is that you can find a stranger who’s so different to you but going through the same thing. If you only just open up and admit it.
I dig in my purse and pull out my business card, offering it to Noah.
“I’m really glad Cole is there for you. But if you ever need to talk to someone else, you can call me. Not as an agent, I mean. I know you got snapped up by our rival agency in like two seconds after the draft. But just… as a friend.”
Surprise passes over Noah’s wide eyes. Then he smiles, wide and goofy. “Yeah. That’d be really nice. Thanks, Cassie.”
I look up and catch Cole in the lounge’s doorway, watching our conversation.
There’s something strange in his eyes. Like something has softened. He disappears back out into the hallway.
I slowly rise to my feet and follow him out. I need to find somewhere to make a call, anyway: it’s time to do some damage control. I’m already mentally outlining how I’m going to tell Coach Reed that this was my screw up, not Cole’s.
I was sent here to save Cole’s career, after all. I can take the hit.
But when I walk out into the hallway, Cole is on the phone, leaning against the wall.
“Yeah. Sorry, Coach,” I hear him say evenly. “I’m an idiot. Took a nap at home after the gym, and I overslept. It’s not Cassie’s fault. She did everything right. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He hangs up, and a soft breath of shock leaves my mouth.
Cole just took the blame before I could. He just took a hit to his standing with the Nor’easters staff, just to stop me from hurting my own.
He looks up, surprised.
“Why did you do that?”
“Doesn’t matter.” His lips tug into a smile that makes something in my heart completely melt. “I’ve got a more important question to ask. Are you any good at skating, sunshine?”