Chapter 23 #2
My iPad is tucked into a bag, but I don’t have to look at it to roll through all the players that are currently under the care of the treatment team. I’m thinking through all the pre-game steps that I’ll need to execute once we get to the rink when I clock Asher walking across the parking lot.
He’s wearing a stylish black coat and one of his away game outfits, which are nicer than the workout clothing that I usually see him in.
I try not to stare. His black suit’s tailored to his solid frame, and his crisp white shirt is unbuttoned at the top, a hint of his broad chest visible.
It’s unfair how attractive that I find him.
His hair’s only gotten longer in the months that I’ve known him, and it’s thick and luscious and I’m constantly thinking about running my fingers through it.
But instead of doing that, I’m at the bus that will hold our gear, trying not to keep shooting furtive glances at him, when he finally ambles over to me.
“Morning,” he says with an easy smile that makes my heart beat faster.
He’s wearing sunglasses, but I can see him tracking his gaze across my face.
At least I’m not in this alone, even if it makes everything between us that much more intense.
Players and staff are milling around us, but everyone’s focused on making sure that we’re ready to leave on time.
Plus, even though it feels like I haven’t laid eyes on him for too long, I saw him last night.
At Lyla’s insistence, in my defense. He came over and we did a double header.
We watched Frozen and then the three of us caught the Nauticals game until she fell asleep between us.
It was pretty much the perfect night, and the only thing that could have made it better was if he’d woken up in my bed instead of heading back to his apartment when I carried my passed-out five-year-old upstairs and tucked her in.
We both agreed that Asher hanging out as a friend is okay where Lyla is concerned, but we don’t want her to know that anything is going on between us. It would cause unnecessary complications, and I’m not about to make my daughter lie for me.
I should be spinning out again, but instead, I’m smiling like a teenager. “Morning.”
He extends his arm toward me, and I realize that I was so focused on his body that I didn’t notice he’s carrying two to-go cups in his hands. “I grabbed you a coffee. I figured that with the excitement of the tooth fairy coming this morning, you may be ready for another one.”
My brow draws upward, even as I take the offering and say, “Thank you.” I force myself not to look around to see if anyone’s watching us.
Not that I could even care because god, I am so fucked. He’s the most thoughtful person that I’ve ever met. Last night, he let Lyla talk to him about anything her heart desired for literal hours. And he just sat there happily, asking questions and teasing out her opinions on things.
He gestures towards the bags that I’m heaving into the storage compartment. “Ready for today?”
Zane was supposed to be here at least an hour ago to help me prepare the treatment gear and load it, though I’m not going to mention that. I place the last bag that I’m responsible for into the compartment. “Should be.”
“So, I was wondering…” My pulse hums louder in my ears, and for a crazy second, I think that he’s going to ask me on a date. But then he says, “Kellan’s been offering me tickets to a Nauticals game, and I was thinking that you, me, and Lyla could check it out. They’re at home this Wednesday.”
I relax, even as I ignore the swell of disappointment in my chest. It makes sense. Lyla was transfixed by the game last night. At least until she fell asleep.
“She’d love that,” I answer. Truly, if Lyla found out that I was the reason that she didn’t get to go to a professional hockey game, I’m pretty sure she’d figure out how to emancipate herself.
His voice dips and he leans a little closer. “And what about you?”
My body shudders from our proximity, and I almost drop my coffee cup. “Are you flirting with me?”
He gives me a guileless smile. “Depends on whether it’s being well received or not.”
I groan softly and make myself busy shutting the compartment door with my free hand. Having something else to focus on means that I won’t grab him by the lapels of his jacket and haul him into a messy kiss. “It’s very well-received and very inappropriate considering where we are.”
He shrugs. “So, is that a yes?”
“Yes, I like your flirting,” I admit against my best judgment, my cheeks turning red.
His laughter booms across the parking lot, but his voice isn’t low when he says, “I meant about the game on Wednesday, but I appreciate the honesty.”
“I’ll ask Lyla.” God, I need to get it together and hold onto some sense of separation. Only, my control seems to be spiraling more out of my grasp every second that I’m in his presence.
He holds up his coffee cup and gestures it toward me, his eyes bright and playful when he says, “We know that she’s the one in charge anyway.”
Between the three of us and the way that I’ve been feeling lately, all I know is that it’s definitely not me.
This is our first game against Rhode Island and the facilities are completely new to me, so it’s not convenient that Zane never showed up for the bus.
I’m annoyed at him, but all that I can do is make sure to have all the guys in good working order before they hit the ice. I’ve gotten everyone taped up and reviewed, and we’ll do it all again just before the game to re-address any issues.
Luke walks by, on his way to the rink, and I give him a nod. “Hey. Do you know what’s up with Zane? I didn’t realize he wasn’t going to be at the game. Or can you point me in the right direction?”
“Right,” he says, rubbing his hand against his shorn hair. “He texted about an hour into the bus ride. Said he had food poisoning or something. He didn’t let you know?” A look flashes across his face, but he doesn’t say more.
I shake my head. “No. At my old school, we had a staff and coaching group chat if there were going to be game day changes.”
Luke laughs. “Yeah, that’s not exactly Coach’s style. He doesn’t want to make it any easier for people to shirk their responsibilities. He expects that if you can’t do something, you look him in the eye and tell him.”
“That sounds like Coach Donovan.” I haven’t spent a lot of time with the man, but I consider that a good thing. He expects you to do your job and do it well, and he only steps in with other staff when something’s wrong.
Luke’s looking down at his clipboard, and I think he’s going to leave until he says, “I’ll remind Zane next time I see him that he needs to let all staff members know if an emergency comes up.”
I zip up my bag to follow him out to the ice. “I appreciate that.”
He stops at the doorway then, the two of us the only people left in the locker room. “Are things between the two of you okay? Generally, I try to stay out of the fray, but…”
My chest tightens, and I clasp my bag tighter. “But what?” With Zane, it could be anything, so I don’t even pretend to guess what he’s been saying behind my back.
“He mentioned that you’ve been a little cold to him.
I know that it can be hard to get acclimated in a new school, especially one with Radford’s reputation and expectations, but I do hope that you guys will find your footing.
” It’s a very subtle way of saying, ‘figure it out on your own before you fuck up the team dynamics and Coach needs to get involved, which won’t be good for anyone. ’
Still, I’m blown away by the accusation. Me, cold to him? I’m not the one making under-handed homophobic comments and doing a shitty job. But I already have enough drama in my life, and I don’t need his little pissy lies adding to it.
Maybe I’ll regret it, but I straighten my back and do what I should have done months ago so that there’s one less lie hanging over my head.
“I feel like things got a little rocky between us when he found out that I’m bisexual.
It’s not something I share broadly around the facility, but I’d hate to think that it is the reason for his low opinion of me. ”
A glimmer of surprise flashes across his face, but it’s definitely not disgust or hate, both of which I’ve seen during my lifetime. I finally relax when he adds, “I hope that’s not it either.” And it seems like he means it, too.
“Anyway, I’ll make sure that he and I can work effectively together. If there’s an issue moving forward, it won’t be coming from me.”
“Good.” He nods at me and then heads out to the ice without another word.
I appreciate that he doesn’t make this a bigger production than it needs to be.
As the offensive coach, he’s effectively Coach Donovan’s second in command, and the team respects him a ton.
Hell, I do, too. He heard my side–just like he’s already heard the seeds that Zane has apparently been planning against me–and now we see how things go.
The difference between me and Zane, besides the fact that he’s a little brat, is that only one of us showed up for work today.
I’m not going to flounder professionally for even a second, and he can get used to it.
He’s going to have to rise to my level of output instead of me sinking to his level of mediocrity, and that’s just the way it is.
I’m feeling good when I make it to the rink a minute later. The players are skating around the ice, a flurry of movement that never gets old to watch. I glance up at the stands. They’re already filled with fans ready for the puck drop in about thirty minutes.