Chapter 9
JACK
I could take a hint. My texts went unread and unanswered. When Devon arrived for the morning skate, he was all business. He wasn’t even avoiding my gaze or acting nervous around me—our interactions were strictly player and coach. End of story.
Just as well. As much as I wanted him, I’d been trying to talk myself out of giving in ever since I realized he played for me. Well, okay, I’d given lip service to all the reasons we shouldn’t do this and why I should back away, but I hadn’t exactly done much to persuade myself.
Between the two of us, Devon was apparently the adult in this equation. He was the one with some functioning professional survival instinct, and he was—with his cell phone silence and on-ice focus—laying down the law.
Honestly, I was relieved. Frustrated and disappointed, sure, but relieved. Maybe now I could focus on the reasons I’d been hired by the Grizzlies organization.
Right now, that meant a post-practice meeting with the team captain in my office.
“You know this team better than I do.” I sat back in my chair and drummed the armrest. “When Vancouver needs to call someone up, who do you think is ready?” The GMs of both teams made the final decision there, and sometimes they’d ask for a specific player, but the head coach often played a role too.
The GMs had already asked me a few times who I thought was ready; the injury fairy had been merciful so far this season, but it was only a matter of time before she showed up and wreaked havoc on Vancouver’s roster.
We needed to have a plan for who was going up when players started going down.
Lous shifted in the guest chair, gazing at my desk with unfocused eyes as he pursed his lips.
“Well, on the offensive lines, both of my linemates are more than ready. Twos went up twice last season and came back with three points. Arvy was still a rookie, but he’s earned a spot on the top line, so… ” He waved his hand.
I nodded as he spoke. “They’re both solid. It’s… I mean, it was hard to tell who really shines when the only game we’ve played so far is…” I grimaced.
The captain chuckled and shrugged. “It wasn’t our best performance.”
“No. The whole team’s timing was off, and it was a mess, but I could still see who was trying to make things happen. Arvy and Twos—they’re both promising. I suspect we’ll lose them both permanently to Vancouver in the next couple of seasons.”
Lous seemed to consider that. Then he nodded. “I agree.”
“What about you?”
He folded and refolded his long fingers. “I’ve been up several times. But… I think this is the level where I’m strongest.”
I tilted my head. “How do you figure?”
“I’m good,” he said. “I won’t tell you I’m not. I’ve led the team in points for three seasons running. But every time I’ve gone up…” He chewed his lip, then shook his head. “I think the younger guys have more potential up there than I do. And the boys here need me as their captain.”
The answer surprised me, but it also didn’t.
I’d encountered plenty of hockey players with hubris to spare—hell, I’d been one when I was still in my prime—but there were also those who saw themselves as a piece of the whole picture.
Even while they dreamed of glory and of one day kissing the Cup, they were pragmatic enough to believe it was better for the whole team to say “no, this guy is better than me.”
“Of course you’re great as the captain,” I said. “But don’t sell yourself short. You’re only twenty-eight—you’ve still got plenty of time to go up and stay up.”
Lous gave a subtle shrug. “Maybe. And if they need a left winger, well, I won’t say no. But if they do, don’t overlook Kulie.”
I pursed my lips. Sasha Kulakov played on the second line, and he was good, but he was also a rookie.
Barely nineteen. A short stint in Vancouver would do wonders to help him develop.
If a Vancouver player went down day-to-day, then maybe I’d send up Kulie.
If they were week to week, then Lous would probably be better.
I was curious why Lous was encouraging me to send other players—rookies, for that matter—over him.
If he was worried he lacked the talent or skill (he didn’t).
Or maybe he was scared to go back up. Some guys were; I’d played with a kid who’d been terrified the first time he’d been called up, and he’d blown it.
It had taken another two seasons before the coaches were willing to try him again, and one more after that before he had complete confidence in himself.
He went on to win a Cup before he retired.
Lous—I wasn’t sure. But I was still getting to know him and the team. Maybe time would show the cards he was keeping close.
“All right, so…” I highlighted Arvy, Twos, Kulie, and Lous on my list of forwards. Then I turned the page in my notebook to a different list. “Let’s talk blueliners.”
“Devs is ready,” Lous said without hesitation.
My stomach somersaulted at the mention of Devon’s name, but I schooled my expression. “You think so?”
“Absolutely.” The captain nodded. “He’s an incredibly strong player. We’ve needed a two-hundred-foot defensemen for ages, and there he is.” He made a face. “I don’t even get why he’s playing at this level. He belongs up there.”
I straightened, startled by the vehemence. “So you see it too.”
“I can’t imagine how anyone doesn’t see it.” He scoffed, shaking his head again. “I don’t know what Toronto was thinking, keeping him on the farm team or trading him when their blue line is such a shitshow. No wonder they’re losing.”
I snorted. He wasn’t wrong—Toronto was in dire need of some actual defense this season, but for whatever reason, they’d been wasting a potential star on the farm team before punting him someplace else.
And they hadn’t even gotten all that much for him.
Devon had been part of a larger trade—Vancouver’s backup goalie and a fourth liner, plus a couple of draft picks, in exchange for Toronto’s second line center and Devon.
It had seemed like a lopsided trade to me (not to mention Toronto’s fans), but maybe they’d been trying to free up cap space or something.
I had no idea. Not for the first time, I was glad I didn’t have to make—or answer for—those decisions.
“Well, let’s just be glad Toronto squandered him,” I said.
Lous chuckled. “Agreed. But I can’t imagine he’ll be playing in Abbotsford for long. Once the coaches and GM in Vancouver have watched him play… Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they took out one of their own players just so they could call him up.”
I barked a laugh. I got it—no, a club wouldn’t actually kneecap one of their own players to bring up a minor league star. But in their shoes, seeing Devon’s raw talent and hockey IQ, I’d probably be salivating for an opportunity to call him up.
Or I might’ve been biased.
That thought made me cold all over.
Trying not to fidget in my chair, I asked Lous, “So you think Devon is our best defenseman. Vancouver calls up for one…”
“I can’t imagine they’d ask for anyone but him. Even if they need someone on the right. Gards is good, but if I’m a coach who needs the best defenseman available, right or left—I’m asking for Devs.”
I whistled. “That’s a hell of an endorsement.”
Another shrug. “He’s that good.”
He was. Objectively, Devon was the best player we had. Full stop. His defensive stats were top notch. His offensive stats rivaled that of some of our forwards. If we asked him to throw on pads, he could probably tend goal like the best of them. Lous was right—Devon was that good.
Which was all the more reason to keep my hands off him. If anyone caught a whiff of anything unprofessional between us, every call-up Devon received would be filtered through that lens. It would leave an indelible stain on his career.
I couldn’t do that to him.
Lous and I wrapped up our meeting. I thanked him for his insights, and he left the office.
Alone, I pinned my two lists to my corkboard with the players we’d discussed highlighted and starred.
Then I sat back and stared at Devon’s name.
That piece of paper wouldn’t mean much to anyone who came into my office.
At most, they’d figure out exactly what the lists meant—that I had my eye on certain players to go to Vancouver.
No one needed to know it was a black-and-white reminder of why I had to keep things professional with Devon.
It didn’t matter that he did things I hadn’t known I needed.
It didn’t matter that I craved his touch.
What mattered was the career path laid out in front of Devon.
Nothing he did to me in bed was worth what it would do to his career.
“Let’s keep it up!” I shouted to the boys in the locker room. “We’ve got one period left. They’re getting pissed and they’re going to get chippy, but what are we doing to do?”
“Play our game!” the team replied in enthusiastic unison.
“And when they try to goad us into fighting?”
“Don’t take the bait!”
“When they play dirty?”
“Punish them on the scoreboard!”
I smiled and gave them all a sharp nod. “Let’s get out there and do it!”
They cheered, got up, and started filing back out to the ice.
Amy watched them go. Turning to me, she said, “Two games in, and you’ve already changed the whole vibe. That’s impressive.”
I chuckled. “To be fair, going from a 9-1 blowout to a 5-2 lead is good for morale.”
“It is,” she said as we followed the team. “But we haven’t scored five goals in a single game all season. What few wins we had were one-goal games with us scoring maybe two or three.”
“Well, let’s hope it continues like this.” I paused. “And let’s hope they can hold the lead.”
She grimaced and held up crossed fingers.
5-2 was a solid lead, but this sport was incredibly unforgiving if a team took its foot off the gas.
There was nothing more dangerous than thinking we had it in the bag, especially when there was still an entire period left to play.
It was great when you were on the team that took advantage, took the lead, and won while your opponents stood there like “what the fuck just happened?” Being on the team that blew the lead—yeah, that sucked.
And it was extra stressful as the coach because I couldn’t actually get out there and put a puck in a net. All I could do was guide my team from the bench and hope they got the job done.
Out on the ice, both team’s top lines and top D pairs set up for the faceoff. Arvy was a little too eager, and the ref booted him out of the circle. Lous skated up to take his place, promptly won the faceoff, and passed the puck.
It was intercepted by an opposing skater, and just like that, the action was moving toward our defensive zone. Their odd-man-rush was deadly, and I just prayed my boys could head them off and—
Devon was suddenly tearing back the other direction… with the puck on his stick.
The players who’d been rushing our zone were suddenly on his heels. One was nearly on him when Lous called for the puck, and Devon shouldered the guy out of the way before passing to the captain.
I’d barely blinked before Lous was at the blue paint and the puck was in the back of the net.
Even as I cheered with the team, I was still trying to make sense of what had happened.
“This kid’s incredible.” Amy handed me one of the iPads. “There’s no way we’re keeping him once Vancouver catches wind of him.”
I peered at the screen and pressed play. The video showed what happened from a different angle—Gards had been crowding one of the opposing players, trying to poke-check the puck away, and the player had passed it to another forward.
Tried to, anyway. Devon wasn’t a huge guy—about six-foot-one—but he had a long reach, and he used it to swipe the puck away. By the time anyone knew what was happening, he was already sprinting for the other end.
I whistled as I handed the iPad back to Amy. “He deserves to be in Vancouver.”
She nodded. “Agreed, but I won’t bitch about having him here for as long as they let him stay.”
Amen to that.
In the end, the Abbotsford Grizzlies redeemed themselves for that utter disaster the other night. The final score was 6-3, and Devon was named first star after racking up three points—two assists and a goal.
He skated out to salute the crowd, smiling big and drenched in sweat. Christ, he was hot.
And a really, really fucking good hockey player who deserved the career he’d worked so hard to earn. I couldn’t be selfish and derail that for him, no matter what a glimpse of that smile did to my blood pressure.
It really was only a matter of time before Vancouver snatched him out of Abbotsford.
That would be huge for him. Great for Vancouver. Not so great for Abbotsford.
But maybe then I’d finally be able to breathe again.