Chapter 28
Finley
“I think you’re a witch,” I say to Charlotte when she answers the phone.
I’m lying on my bed in a hotel room in Chicago. At midnight, she was the only person I knew would still be awake. She’s also the only person I can possibly talk to about this.
“Like Ursula in Little Mermaid or Sarah Jessica Parker in Hocus Pocus?” she asks.
“The latter,” I reply. “Obviously.”
“While I can’t help but agree, what did I do to earn such a title?” Charlotte asks. “And does it have anything to do with the fact that you were basically dancing with Kane all night at the Jaxon Steele concert a few days ago?”
I shake my head. Fuck. That concert feels like a lifetime ago. Which is part of the reason I called. Even though I should be prepping for our last push toward the playoffs. It’s the middle of March, which means I have less than one month to make sure the Yeti are moving on to post-season play.
And yet, here I am. On the phone with a friend because of a boy. I’m so fucked.
“Kane is on IR,” I announce.
There’s a pause. “What’s IR again?”
I roll my eyes. “Injured reserve. It means he’s hurt badly enough that we need to open up his spot on the roster. We called up one of the defensemen from the minors tonight. He did fine.”
“So, ignoring all the sportsy things you just said: Kane’s off the team?” Charlotte asks, and even through the phone, I can tell she’s grinning.
“Are you smiling?” I ask. “The man is hurt, Charlotte! You can’t smile about a professional athlete getting benched for three weeks. It’s literally a nightmare for him.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t it mean he isn’t your player anymore?”
“That’s not exactly how it works,” I hedge. But that “exactly” is why I’m on the phone with Charlotte.
“Oh shit,” Charlotte says. “Video call me right now. I need to see your face when you tell me this.”
I do as she requests, unsurprised to see that Charlotte is all done up with a full face of makeup, her hair in curly waves hanging around her face.
“Are you considering doing something with Kane, Finley Blake?” she asks as soon as she answers.
“No,” I lie.
Her eyes go wide. “You are!”
“I am still his coach,” I remind her.
“But…”
“But I can’t make the decision to put him back on the roster.”
“So, he’s not in your chain of command!” Charlotte all but yells.
I hit the volume-down button a few times before saying, “I’m not sure if that’s how the legal team would see it, but Doctor Lowell has to sign off, and then White has to decide to put him back on the roster.”
“Oh shit,” Charlotte says. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not very Coach Blake of you.”
“Things have been weird between us. I was the one who made the doctors check him over,” I admit, a pang of guilt hitting my ribs.
“So go talk to him.”
“We’re at a hotel.”
“And he doesn’t get to travel anymore?”
“No, he still came with the team.”
She squints. “Then I don’t see what the problem is.”
“People could see me.”
“Be sneaky. And if caught, lie.”
“I just… What if it’s a bad idea?”
“What if it’s not?” she counters.
I bite the inside of my cheek before responding, “I don’t know.”
“Only one way to find out. And just pretend you’re going to talk about some hockey thing if someone sees you.”
My pulse kicks up, and I’m not sure whether it’s nerves or excitement. “I could do that.”
“Then why are we still on the phone?” Charlotte asks.
I stand up. “I’m still not sure if I can get past the fact that he’s my player. It is wrong.”
“You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just go talk to him. At least clear the air. You can go from there.”
***
Three minutes later, I’ve figured out which room is Beckett’s and am standing outside of it, knocking like I’m about to enter the locker room. Just a coach doing coach things. Nothing to see here.
The door flies open, and I try to contain my smile. “Kane. Do you have a minute to talk—” Fuck. What was I going to pretend to talk to him about? “Matchups?”
“Of course, Coach. Come on in,” Kane says.
He smiles, and my heart melts. I wasn’t lying when I told Charlotte things have been weird between us.
As a coach, the kind of outburst he had is completely expected.
Players hate being benched. It’s justified, too.
One injury, one stint on IR means a chance for them to be replaced.
To lose their spot. To slowly become unnecessary for the team.
And for a veteran who knows he’s nearing the end of his career? It’s dangerous.
But it’s also what’s best for the team. We can’t have players on the ice when they’re injured. And it’s what’s best for him in the long run. He has to use that hip long after hockey is done.
And I happen to care about his life after hockey.
Which made it hurt so much more when he threw our friendship in my face. I have to be his coach first, a fact we’re both very aware of, but even if I didn’t, it was the right call.
I slide through the door, and it closes behind me with a judgmental snap.
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be thinking about the way Beckett’s arms felt around me yesterday morning. Or the way he came into my office later and made the formal coach/player apology, too. The sadness in his eyes when we told him he was on IR for the next three weeks.
Seeing him in the coaches’ section in his team gear, rather than suited up and on the bench tonight, was hard, even if it’s the job—for both of us.
But it also sucks to suffer through it alone.
So, here I am.
To… discuss matchups.
Even if what I really want to do is hold him. Have his arms wrapped around me again.
“Matchups, huh?” Beckett says with a knowing smile.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”
“As a coach or as a friend?”
I pause, even though we both know the answer. There is no real reason I’d be here as a coach. “A friend.”
He sits on the edge of the bed. “Well, in that case, it’s been a pretty brutal day.”
“Want to talk about it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No.”
My chest tightens. Of course he doesn’t. At least not with me. “Want me to go?”
“No. I’m just not sure how to walk the coach/friend line right now.” The uncertainty is evident in his eyes.
“If it’s easier, I think this may be the one time you don’t have to think of me as your coach.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not up to me whether or not you are back on the ice. Sure, I could still bench you once you’re off IR, but I have no say over anything regarding you in the next three weeks. I’m as close to being just your friend as I’ll ever be.”
A smile spreads slowly across his face. “Well, in that case, let’s watch a movie.”
“Wait, is this what you’d normally be doing in the evenings if I wasn’t monopolizing all your time?” I ask.
He looks at me, his dark brown eyes pulling me in. “Yeah, Fin. I spend all my time watching TV. It’s how I’m a professional hockey player at thirty-four.”
“You’re a jerk.”
Beckett shifts so he’s sitting fully on the bed and pats the spot next to him. “Come on, friend. I’ll even let you pick.”
We scroll through the channels together, discussing the various options before deciding on an action film that came out a few years ago. Unsurprisingly, neither of us has seen it.
As we watch, we talk. The conversation starts where it normally does: hockey.
But after we talk about the game tonight and what we need to do to clinch a playoff spot, we move to more personal things.
Beckett tells me about his plans once the season ends.
I admit I should probably go see my dad, but it’s like a three-day job interview anytime I’m with him.
“Larsen and Li were a good pair today,” Beckett says after a loud action scene, where the supposed good guys caused about twelve different apartment buildings to be destroyed.
“They were,” I agree.
“It was hard to watch.”
“It was harder to watch them play without you than I anticipated, too.”
“But I was also surprisingly proud of Larsen. He’s really stepped up,” Beckett adds.
I bump my shoulder into his again, but this time, I don’t move away. He’s warm and strong, and it just feels so nice to have someone by my side for once. “Are you becoming friends with the rookie?” I tease.
Beckett looks down, his eyes meeting mine. I’m practically resting my head on his shoulder, and from the way his eyes darken, I think he likes it. Maybe as much as I do.
He closes his eyes, his head tilting to rest gently against mine. “I’d prefer to think of it as more of a proud team leader situation.”
My eyelids grow heavy as I watch the screen, but I blink hard, forcing myself to—
A loud explosion on the screen sounds, and I jerk awake, blinking a few times before my brain catches up with reality. I fell asleep on Beckett’s shoulder. He blinks at me, like he, too, just came back to consciousness.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“Never thought I’d sleep with a player,” I joke.
“I’m doing all sorts of things these days I never thought I would,” he says softly.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask. I know it’s a dangerous question, but I can’t help myself. The pull between us tonight is so strong. I can’t seem to fight it.
“Can I kiss you?”
My heart stops, the room becoming too small.
Kiss Beckett Kane? It’s my high school dreams turned grown-up desires merging into one terrible, horrible, amazing possibility.
And I desperately want to say yes. To lean into him.
To press my lips gently against his. To slip my tongue into his mouth and dance with it as I swing my leg over him until I’m seated firmly on his lap.
To let go and take exactly what I want, while knowing it’s what he wants, too.
A small sound escapes me, and I’m mortified that it can only be described as a gasp.
Beckett’s face morphs into one of alarm.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry, Finley. I… Please forget I asked,” he pleads, quickly shifting to climb out of bed.
He holds his hands in front of him defensively.
“I know we can’t be anything more than we are now.
Shit, I know that once this PR stunt is over, we can’t even be what we are now, but there is this pull between us.
It’s… I’ve never felt anything like it. I’m hyper-aware of where you are and what you’re doing.
” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I know we can’t do this.
Even if you’re barely even my coach right now. I just…”
I stand, too, our gazes meeting in an awkward staring contest over the bed.
“It’s the same for me,” I confess, needing him to know he isn’t alone.
“I catch myself watching you too much during practice. Focusing on you during games instead of the whole team. Noticing you in the damn hallway. I can’t seem to stop. ”
My heart tightens painfully. “But we still… shouldn’t do this,” I say, knowing it’s true, no matter how much I want to cling to Beckett’s warmth. To feel his lips against mine. To fall into his embrace and let go for once in my life.
“I know, Finley. And I would never do something that could jeopardize everything you’ve worked for. I just… I wish I could.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I… Can we just chalk this up to me waking up next to a beautiful woman and leave it at that?”
I nod, my mind too busy basking in the knowledge that Beckett thinks I’m beautiful to form any kind of real response.