Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ARTHUR
By the time I’ve made it back to my office, my anger has mostly dissipated.
Crawford is a flirt. I know this. I’ve witnessed it on countless occasions since he joined the team last year.
And if I thought for a moment he was making anyone in the organization uncomfortable, I would have his balls surgically removed without anesthesia and served on a silver platter to the victim.
I do not tolerate any sort of abuse.
But that’s not Austin Crawford. He may come on strong, but in a playful, harmless way that only seems to endear him to most.
But somehow I forgot all about that when I saw him flirting with Elliot.
At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to pick the kid up by the scruff of his neck and carry him out of the treatment room.
He jabbered on like the chatterbox he is the entire walk to my office, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside my mind. Once we’re inside, I close the door. Austin is still blabbering on about the Florida right winger who didn’t appreciate the tips he gave him.
“I mean, I thought ‘you should try skating faster’ was solid advice, but I guess he didn’t feel the same.” He settles into the chair opposite my desk with all the ease and confidence of someone on a late night talk show. “So what’s up, Coach? What did you want to talk to me about?”
I want you to stop flirting with the girl I like.
Jesus. I wasn’t this cringe in junior high. Why am I acting like such an adolescent?
It suddenly occurs to me that if I tell Austin not to speak to female staff like that, there will be follow up questions.
After all, he’s been this way since he joined the organization as our hothead rookie last year.
What cause would I have to reprimand him for his behaviour now, as opposed to sixteen months ago?
No. Addressing it will make it seem like someone has complained about him. Knowing the kid, he’ll go into fix-it mode, trying to figure out who he’s offended so he can make amends, and this entire thing will unravel before me. Because Austin isn’t the problem. I am.
“How are you feeling?” I ask instead. “You took some hard hits last week.”
“Ah, I’m fine.” His face splits into a cocky grin.
“Back-to-back encounters with some guys that were upset by how much better I am at hockey and didn’t know how to use their words to express themselves.
But you know me. I always bounce back. I’m like that Coldplay song.
‘I get knocked down, but I get up again. You’re never gonna keep me down. ’”
I frown. Even with my limited knowledge of pop culture, I’m fairly certain that’s not right, but I don’t care enough to question it.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Coach,” he continues, completely unbothered. “I’m indestructible.”
I fight the urge to shake my head at him. Was I ever that naive? Yeah. Yeah I was. Earlier in my career I thought nothing could take me down. I was the best and nothing would stop me from being the best.
“We’re all indestructible, Austin.” My voice comes out harder than I want it to. “Until we’re not.”
For the first time since I met the kid his trademark confidence wavers. His face falls and his swagger falters.
“I’m sorry, Coach.” His remorse sounds genuine. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” I wave my hand, dismissing the words that I know had no harmful intent.
“I just want you to take care of yourself. You’re a gifted player, Crawford.
One of my best. But you still need to protect yourself and make smart choices.
Because all this can be taken away. Just like that.
” I snap my fingers, the hollow noise sounding loud in the office.
He nods quickly. “I understand. I’ll be smarter.” His throat bobs and it strikes just how young he is. When I was twenty-four, I thought I knew everything.
After Austin leaves I rest my head on the back of my chair and close my eyes. Images of Elliot’s smile as she watched Austin and Ben bickering back and forth. Her long blonde hair tied up in a lopsided bun, secured by a hot pink scrunchie, a beacon in a room full of black, blue, and grey.
There’s a knock against the open door. I crack my eyes open to find Noah leaning lazily on the frame, arms crossed, expression blank.
“You okay, Ace?”
I sit up straighter in my chair, forcing myself into Coach mode, sliding the leadership mask back into place. “Of course. Why?”
“You came into the treatment room pretty hot, is all.”
Shit. I’d hoped I hadn’t drawn too much attention. “I didn’t realize you were in there,” I admit. Not that it would have mattered. The second I’d seen Crawford making googly eyes at Elliot, the rest of the room faded.
“Yeah, I was working with Luke in the back corner.” His eyes sweep the space. “I don’t see a body, so I’m guessing Crawford made it out on his own two feet?”
“Of course he did.” I bristle at the implication. “I just wanted to talk to him about the hits he took last week.”
“Ah.” Noah’s mouth curves in a knowing smirk. “Is that it?”
The laughter in his tone grates. “Yes.” My reply is clipped. “What did you think was happening?”
“I thought you were reaming him out for flirting with your girl.”
Heat flashes through my face, and I turn away before he sees too much. “That’s ridiculous.” Deny, deny, deny.
“Is it?” His voice is too damn amused.
“Yes, it is.” I shove to my feet, and the movement comes easier than it did a few weeks ago.
My knee doesn’t ache the same way. Elliot’s plan is working.
I should be grateful, focused on my progress.
Instead, I’m thinking about how her hands had steadied me through the stretches, how her laughter had lingered in my ears long after I left her place.
“She’s not my girl. I don’t have a girl. And Austin flirts as easily as he breathes. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know that.” Noah finally lets the smirk break into a grin. “I just wanted to make sure you knew it too. And maybe offer some advice on better ways to stake your claim on the girl that’s not your girl.”
“Noah—”
“Have you thought about peeing in a circle around her when the other males are present?” His brows lift. “That would make it perfectly clear she’s yours.”
“She’s not fucking mine,” I grit out. My fists clench at my sides, and if Noah wasn’t the only real friend I had left, he’d already be eating through a feeding tube.
“Okay.” He raises his hands slowly, palms out, a gesture of surrender. His grin softens into something closer to understanding. After a beat, he adds quietly, “But you want her to be.”
I open my mouth to argue. To shut Noah down, shut this whole conversation down before it goes any further. But the words stick in my throat. Lately, I feel like all I’ve been doing is lying to myself. I don’t want to lie to him.
My arms fold tight across my chest, my eyes dropping to the floor like it holds the solution to my problems. “I’m not…not interested.”
Noah exhales sharply. “Thank fuck, man.”
“But it doesn’t matter whether I am or not,” I force out. “It’s not going to happen.”
He steps inside like he owns the place, swinging the door shut with a quiet click. It feels like my office is no longer my office. It’s a confession booth. Noah drops into the chair Crawford had been sprawled in ten minutes ago and leans back, arms crossed, face patient. “Tell me why.”
“Many reasons,” I mutter. My feet carry me in restless lines across the office, each step feeding the nervous energy burning under my skin. “Too many reasons.”
“Start with one.”
“I don’t date.”
Noah chuckles. “That’s not a reason. That’s a habit. Habits change. Next.”
“She’s too young for me.”
His brows lift. “How young?”
“Thirty-two.” I checked her personnel file.
He rolls his eyes so hard I can practically hear them hit the back of his skull. “Jesus, Ace. A ten-year gap? At our age, who gives a damn? She’s not some kid. She’s a grown woman. With a twelve-year-old. Which, I’m guessing, brings me to your next excuse.”
I bristle, jaw tightening. “Exactly. She’s got a kid.”
“So?”
“So I don’t know a damn thing about kids. Hell, I barely remember being one myself.” I actually try to remember as little as possible about my childhood.
Noah just shakes his head. “You’re inventing problems. You’re not signing adoption papers on day one. Let her decide how that goes. You’d only have as much of a role in his life as Elliot is comfortable with. Stop sprinting ten miles down a road you haven’t stepped foot on yet.”
“I have to sprint ten miles down the road,” I snap, frustration breaking through. “If I don’t map out every turn, every dead-end, every worst-case scenario—how the hell am I supposed to prepare for them?”
The room falls quiet. My pacing slows, but the war inside me doesn’t.
Part of me wants to fight him, to cling to the reasons, the boundaries, the distance I’ve built.
The other part wants to shove all of it aside, walk straight to her, and stop pretending I don’t feel what I feel every time her eyes lock on mine.
But both of these realities can’t coexist.
“Give me one of these scenarios.”
I pick the first one that pops into my head. “We work together. She’s already proven herself an asset to the team. Let’s say we start dating. It gets serious. And then—” I exhale sharply through my nose. “Then I act like an asshole, we break up, and she quits.”
Noah shuts his eyes and nods slowly, like he’s rolling the words around in his head before responding.
When he opens them again, he leans forward in the chair, elbows braced on his knees.
His voice is careful, but I can tell it’s taking effort for him not to snap.
“There’s a simple solution for that.” He lets the silence stretch just long enough to make me bristle. Then, deadpans, “Don’t be an asshole.”
A harsh scoff escapes me. “Like it’s that easy.”
“It’s exactly that easy,” he groans, throwing his hands up. “Here’s what you do. Before you say or do anything, ask yourself: would an asshole do this? And if the answer’s yes, don’t fucking do it.”
I drag my hands through my hair, tugging until my scalp stings, because he makes it sound simple. Like flipping a switch. But it’s not simple. People are flawed. People screw up. And when they do, people get hurt. I don’t want Elliot or Sam anywhere near the shrapnel that follows in my wake.
“Look, Ace.” Noah stands, pushing off his knees, and slides his hands into the pockets of his track pants.
He rocks back on his heels, watching me with the kind of patience that borders on pity.
“I know you haven’t exactly been in a lot of healthy relationships.
I know your dad did a number on you, your sister, and your mom—”
I can’t help but grimace. Noah is one of the only people I’ve ever talked to about my parents, my childhood. Back when we were young and drunk and ripping on our shit fathers.
“I’m just saying… just because you haven’t seen many good relationships doesn’t mean they don’t exist. You’re a good guy. You act like you’re in this never-ending tough bastard era, but you care. You take care of people. You wouldn’t be able to lead this team the way you do if you didn’t.”
The words slide under my armour. I want to believe him. I want to see myself the way he does, not as some by-product of bad bloodlines and worse examples. But the thing about walls is, once you build them high and thick enough, it’s hard to see through them.
“I just want you to know,” Noah adds softly, “it’s okay to let people in. Not everyone’s going to burn you.”
My throat feels tight. “What if I mess up and ruin everything?”
“What if you don’t?” His eyes are steady on mine. “What if you end up happy?”
Happiness has always felt…unrealistic. A luxury for other people. I’d settle for contentment.
“I’m not sure men like me get to be happy,” I admit, voice low.
Noah nods, his smile faint, touched with sadness. “Maybe. But you could try.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, forcing a nod of my own. “I could try.”
“You want a hug?”
I frown at him. “In the two decades we’ve known each other, I’ve never wanted a hug, Noah.”
He grins at me on his way out. “Just thought I’d check. First time for everything.”