Chapter 40
H unching over the bench, I tighten my laces and tape up a new stick. It feels good to be at the arena again, but going back to pretending Kendra and I are simply colleagues fucking sucks. It was way too easy getting used to being a normal couple. I’m counting down the days for this show to be behind us.
Before the team arrives, I warm up by skating a few laps and hitting pucks into the net. It feels good. When I’m alone out here, it reminds me of the old days when I played with the Lakes. I miss the boys and the camaraderie of being a player, but damn, being a coach is equally great in a different way. I get to watch the players improve and come together as a team. It’s more challenging, and there’s more pressure to make sure everyone is where they should be. It’s so rewarding.
The closer we get to our first game, the higher those stakes seem. I can’t fuck this up. Between balancing the show in exchange for keeping our sponsor and making sure the team is performing at the necessary level… it’s a lot. Oh, and let’s not forget, Kendra and I have a baby on the way. Someday, we will look back on this and laugh. Unfortunately, that day is not today.
“No cameras today, Coach?”
When I look up, Timber Healy is skating out to the ice.
“Thought I saw your car in the lot. Trying to earn extra credit by showing up early?”
She scoffs. “What would I need extra credit for? Certainly not to warm up extra early so you put me on the starting line in Vancouver.”
“Want some practice shots?”
“Yes, please. I’ve already warmed up with reaction balls in the locker room,” she explains, doing some stretches on the ice.
“Finish your warm-up and let me know when you’re ready.”
I practice some of my edgework while collecting pucks around the ice for her, then notice a couple of Kendra’s camera guys setting up. I’m supposed to be going on another date tonight. Now that I’ll be traveling for games more, they’re trying to get a bunch in beforehand. Wish I could tell them what a waste of time this all is.
I slap a few pucks toward the opposite end of the ice.
“Ready?” I shout to Timber.
She drops her mask and bends her knees, lowering herself to take up more space in the net. Affirmative. I rush the net, passing the puck while watching her small movements and preparing to dart in either direction. When I come from the right, she covers that side. I’m coming at her hard. How long will she hold out in this spot? Long enough for me to get the puck by her on the left? Or will she cover the left too early, allowing me to strike on the right? Anticipating moves when someone is barreling down on you is a mental mindfuck. She stays cool and collected. In the end, I get it by her on the right. She pulled a split second too early after I gave her a small deke, and couldn’t react fast enough in the crease. Reacting is a goaltender’s last line of defense. Positioning and reading a player comes first. Her reflexes are lightning quick, but sometimes it’s not enough.
She shakes it off, tapping her stick on the ice. “Let’s go again.”
The next one she blocks, and I smile. “Nice job. Notice how you were able to cut down on those angles? Your positioning was better.”
She nods, and I do close plays with her until the other players filter onto the ice.
Delta skates up and takes over for me while I do a couple drills with Joey—who actually showed up on time today.
“How’s the dating life, Coach?” she asks. “Any winners?”
“Nobody yet,” I tell her.
She dekes me to the side, and I lose the puck. Damn. “I’m going to tell you my tried-and-true method, ready?”
I scoff. “Pins and needles.”
“Okay, here’s what you do…You look them in the eye”—she skates in front of me, looking serious as can be—“and then you say, ‘I’m a hockey player.’”
I chuckle and grab a new puck.
“Works every fucking time,” she says.
I roll my eyes. Yeah, I may have used that once or twice back in the day.
Timber blocks one of Delta’s pucks, who then spins around, grabbing a new one. She’s frustrated. Jeanine is on the other end with a few cones, setting up for edgework drills. The rest of the team is on the ice stretching.
“See, it’s more of a relationship show,” I explain to Joey. “If it was a hookup show, I’d already be done, right?”
“How embarrassing,” Timber pops off. It makes me laugh. I kinda walked into that one.
“Hey-o,” Joey adds.
“What about Kendra?” Cori asks.
I keep my head down, collecting pucks, making sure I don’t react. “What do you mean?”
“I dunno, you did that little live promo thing, seemed like there was some tension there.”
Shit. “No, there isn’t. She’s my boss.”
Delta barks out a laugh. “Do you think we’re blind, Coach?”
“Nah,” Joey says, disagreeing. I’m shocked—but grateful—she doesn’t add to the conversation.
“Have you ever thought about her like that?” Timber asks.
Delta waves a hand. “He’s not going to answer that.”
I shake my head. “I’m not talking about this with my players. Besides, I’m not supposed to be discussing the show at all, I signed an NDA.”
“Did you see how Twitter blew up after that live interview?” Cori asks the other women.
“Oh yeah!” Timber adds. “See?! Even the internet was talking about all the chemistry you had with her.”
Joey pipes up. “I don’t buy it. People love drumming up speculations on things they know nothing about. Lord knows all the shit they say about me online.” She gives me a subtle wink. Fucking great .
“Don’t worry, Coach. America just wants to swoon and kick their feet over your love story,” Cori says. “I’m sure you’ll find someone. Give it time.”
I have someone. The whole conversation gets on my nerves. She skates around, and I follow up with “Cori, you’re doing too much stickhandling. Push the puck. The other team knows you’re a killer. You don’t have to prove it with all the fancy stickwork.”
“Yes, Coach.”
There, that ends that. My phone rings in my pocket, and I glance down to the caller’s name, it’s my doctor’s office. My genetic results.
I fish it out and nod to Jeanine. “I gotta take this, can you?”
She nods and rallies the girls. I answer the phone after skating off the ice and tossing my stick to one of the equipment managers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Lee. We’re just calling to let you know your genetic test was negative, we found zero gene mutations.”
I pump my fist in the air and jump on my skates in the arena tunnel. “Awesome. That’s great to hear. Thank you.”
“Happy to give you the good news,” she says with a small chuckle. “Did you want to schedule an appointment to discuss anything further?”
“Nope, all set.”
“All right, have a good afternoon.”
“You too.”
A second later, Kendra walks out of a locker room and into the tunnel looking down as she fiddles with one of the walkie-talkies along the band of some of the new maternity pants she bought. I stride over and crowd her against the concrete wall of the dark tunnel, and she gasps when I delve my hands into her hair and kiss her. Our baby is healthy.
“Sully!” she whispers, shoving me away.
“The test was negative,” I say, with a small laugh. “No gene mutations.”
She stares at me while the words register in her brain, then she grips my sweater and tugs me close. Her small palms frame my face, and she kisses me once more before pulling away. “Oh my God.”
“Bo is fine,” I reassure her.
She nods over and over, her eyes swelling with tears. I wrap my arms around her. “You okay?”
“Yes!” She laughs through a sob. “Just emotional. Okay, okay. We can’t do this here. Um, go back out there. I’ll be behind you after a minute.”
“Okay. Celebrate later?” I ask.
“I’d love that.”
Smiling, I walk backward out the tunnel, watching her pull her emotions together as she faces the wall. This is a huge weight off our shoulders. It’s fine. Our baby will be fine. There’s a chance they’ll be a carrier of the gene like Kendra, but we don’t have to worry about our baby developing cystic fibrosis.
As soon as I spin around at the mouth of the tunnel, I all but run into Whit Moreau. He shakes his head, telling me everything I need to know.
We weren’t being careful enough.