Chapter 9
MILES
It’s been a week since my world was rocked, and I still don’t know what I’m going to do about it. My only outlet is hockey, practice, and the occasional fire to put out this week.
Honestly, there’s always something with a team who likes to argue and push their luck.
I wake up every night in a cold sweat, wanting to drive back to New Orleans to see my omega, but I can’t. There are too many responsibilities here in Nashville, and I refuse to let my team down.
This is about the time that I would promise myself I’m nothing like Curtis Freedman, except I can’t now that I have a better idea of what really happened the night he quit.
I desperately want names, but I want a chance with Caelia more.
“Coach,” Marilyn says, knocking on my office door.
I’m rarely in here because I typically have too many other things to do, but I made the mistake of checking my email this morning. There’s a ton of shit to wade through, which is why she’s catching me here.
“Can’t talk, too busy,” I mumble, skimming through an email.
“You’ve been too busy for me all week,” she growls under her breath, inviting herself inside to sit in front of me.
“Hmm, you can recognize a pattern,” I say. “That’s the first step to being less of a pain in my ass. Congratulations.”
I immediately feel kind of bad for being a dick. I’m just overwhelmed and tired from sleeping like shit.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that to me if you agree to help me with something,” she says sweetly.
“Why?” I ask. “I only have the patience to do one nice thing a century, and I’m pretty sure I’ve already fulfilled that quota somewhere.”
Marilyn snorts and my lips twitch in mirth. Yes, I’m on a roll even for me.
“Okay, fine. I’ll bite. What do you need?” I ask, tossing my reading glasses onto the desk.
I only use them when I’m going to be staring at a screen for long periods of time.
“Yes!” Marilyn says. “So, as I said, I found the perfect person for Levon, but she’s refusing to return my emails. Her phone number isn't listed anywhere, and the Dragons won’t give me it either.”
“Hmm, yes, legality is always hard,” I mutter before my eyes narrow. “Who is this person? Does she work for the Dragons?”
“Yes, yes. Catch up, Coach,” she complains. “Caelia Freedman was magnetic at the Dragons game. You don’t have any games for another couple of weeks, and I really want to get this love connection moving. She is their new social media manager and gorgeous.”
Yeah, I know. Fuck. Love connection? Honestly.
My face must say what I’m thinking before Marilyn simply shrugs. “It could be a love connection. Who am I to say otherwise?”
“Okay, regardless of what I think about that,” I say, the wheels moving in my mind. “I also want to see her again.”
“Oh?” Marilyn squints at me while I simply shrug. “What is going on with you? You’ve been an asshat more than you usually are.”
“An asshat that gets results,” I remind her.
“Not with the Dragons,” she says smoothly before sighing. “That was a very tight game. It really could have gone either way. Levon skated hard. I’m proud of the team. Caelia is beautiful, and I even noticed that he had his eye on her. I may as well find someone he already has some interest in.”
“Hmm,” I say noncommittally. Sharing is for the birds. She’s my scent match, but she’s also terrified of me because of something my old team did to her. “She’s changed a lot. Caelia is fiercer than she used to be, and her father is very protective. I don’t know if that’s going to go over well.”
“You seem to know her on a personal level,” Marilyn observes. “I don’t suppose you’d like to call her since you know her?”
“I very much doubt she wants to speak to me,” I say. “I think the logistics of this may be over your head, Marilyn.”
The best way to get under this woman’s skin is to tell her to drop it because it’s too hard. Her cheeks flush with anger and her shoulders pull back.
“I’m going to find a way to make this happen,” she growls at me. “I need to review the game schedule to see if any of the locations are close to each other. Then, I’m going to message the team’s social media handles to see if I can get her to reply there.”
“So we’re stooping to stalking,” I observe. “Why didn’t I think about that?”
My hand rubs my chest. I’ve been having pains since I saw Caelia. It’s as if my body is showing its unhappiness that we’re not near each other. Despite not expecting to find my scent match, I received the same education about it that most alphas do.
I still can’t believe fate decided to do this to us.
“Are you suffering from indigestion?” Marilyn asks.
“No,” I reply. “Just wondering why fate is such a bitch is all.”
“Oh I don’t know,” she says sagely. “I think she’s pretty smart. There’s reason for her madness. Are you interested in this girl too? I have to say, I love a good age gap.”
Snorting, I shake my head at her. “Scent matching doesn’t give a flying fuck about age.”
Shit. My filter is officially broken after having answered thirty emails today. My brain is melting. Groaning, I rub my face, deciding that’s enough screen time for me. I’m going for a run in the gym before I’m due for practice.
Standing, I ignore Marilyn’s gobsmacked face. She isn’t often surprised.
“If that’s all…” I drawl. I have lived in Tennessee long enough to pick up my southern accent again. No amount of skating in Midwestern cities has completely eradicated an accent I grew up with, and it gets thicker when I drink or I’m done with a conversation.
“I’m going to get that girl to reply to my messages,” she says, standing. “Just you watch.”
I wait until she’s gone before I begin to smile slowly. That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.
There’s no one who loves love more than Marilyn Mansfield. I’m counting on that.
Three days later
All I’ve been able to think about is when I’ll get to see Caelia again, which means I’ve been manifesting a chance encounter. However, as a coach and ex-hockey player, I know that you have to work for what you want.
“Why are we going out to a bar with the team tonight?” Levon complains.
We’re in Shreveport and staying the night in a hotel before heading out in the morning to Atlanta. We have our next game there, and I found out that the Dragons also have a hockey game nearby. I need to establish a new routine so no one will blink an eye when we go out for “team bonding.”
One of our techs on the team is friends with one of the Dragons’ new interns.
I overheard him talking the other day, and pumped him for information.
I plan to take the team to the same bar where they’ll be hanging out after the game tomorrow night, which means I need to curate a culture where my team actually spends time together.
Even when they whine.
“We won tonight, and we are celebrating that,” I say mildly. “I’ve decided that while you all work well together about half the time you’re on the ice, it’s not enough and you know it.”
“We need you to anticipate each other’s next moves,” Ares, my assistant coach, adds lazily. “It’s all well and good to be able to knock each other about, but trust needs to be built.”
“I trust my teammates, can I go to bed now?” Malcolm yells out.
We’re on the bus pulling into the bar, and I roll my eyes.
“Give it an hour, and then we’ll all head to the hotel to get some shuteye,” I call out. “Please don’t get caught with your pants down in a bathroom stall.”
“The keyword there is ‘caught’, gentlemen,” Levon chuckles as we park.
Rolling my eyes, I nod. “Your assistant coaches have condoms in their pockets, please utilize them,” I say, enjoying the catcalls and groans around the bus.
If I can’t mess with them, what’s the fun in being their coach?
The doors to the bus open, and I sigh as I watch everyone get off.
“Team bonding?” Ares asks as he follows me out.
“I’m willing to try anything at this point,” I admit.
“It’s not a bad idea,” he says. “Whatever your motivation is, they know not to get too sloshed before we head out to our next location.”
“Not if they don’t want to be fined for it,” I say, walking inside the bar. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a sports bar, with the nondescript name of The Spot heralding where we are.
The bar is busy, and people cheer when they realize who we are. We’re overdressed, but no one seems to care. We won our game, and it’s helping to rebuild our confidence after losing to the New Orleans Dragons.
It doesn’t matter that it was hard fought, it still stings.
Blowing out a breath, I move over to a bartender and order a beer. It’s mostly for something to do as I gaze around the bar. I feel like I have to watch my kids, which is funny because some of my players are only a few years younger than I am.
“So you’re from out of town?” the bartender asks with a smile, sliding my beer over.
She’s pretty, with blonde hair and big tits, but I couldn’t be less interested. A couple of weeks ago? I may have been tempted.
“Traveling with the team,” I say with a nod, sliding over my money. “Thanks for this.”
“Are you staying the night?” she asks. “I get off at two.”
Ugh, why is she choosing to flirt with me tonight of all days.
“Early night,” I sidestep gracefully. “Appreciate it.”
Moving away from the bar, I take a small sip of my beer. The guys are chatting with each other, and a few already have girls on their laps. I’m not much for bars anymore, but as I observe my team, I have to admit that this shit is important.
If I’m not a fan of the bars, I may need to begin implementing meals at my home here and there when things chill the fuck out. A long train of away games means that’s not going to happen anytime soon.
Sometimes, it makes it difficult to remember where I am when I open my eyes in a new city each day, but there’s still excitement every fucking game. The day there isn’t, is the day I know it’s time for me to be done.
Pulling out my phone, I search for Caelia’s social media accounts. It’s becoming a daily occurrence now. I need to see her.