Chapter 3
Chapter Three
LYDIA
It’s not my first day at the rink, but it’s my first time here for an official team event. An important one.
Today is the day that the Toronto Rosebuds are announcing their new head coach.
I’m anxious to see who they picked. There are a lot of talented coaches out there. The front-runner is the assistant coach from Detroit’s NHL team.
I watched footage of him behind the bench. He’s good. He’d be a great coach to play for. My guess is it’ll be him.
Heading into the locker room, I’m excited to see the Rosebuds logo hanging on the back wall. The Toronto skyline is lit up behind it.
Gray carpet with a single rosebud is stretched across the floor. Wooden lockers sit in the space, each with a leather cushion embossed with a rosebud. Our names hang on the lockers in number order.
Smiling, I know exactly where to find mine.
A few women are already here, chatting in the corners. I find number twenty-two, and the two women on either side of me are already there.
“Well, if it isn’t the Lydia Bishop,” the woman I recognize as Parker White says by way of greeting. “Damn if I’m not excited to play with you.”
I take her hand and shake it. It’s a firm grip, like mine.
Something I can chalk up to Derek—my real dad was never around long enough to teach me about the importance of a firm handshake.
“If it isn’t the Parker White,” I fire back at her, smiling. “Minneapolis’s best goaltender.”
“I’m surprised they let you go,” the woman on my other side says. “I’d have locked you in.”
I turn to face her and stick out my hand for her to shake. “Nice to officially meet you, Skylar.”
“You too.”
Skylar Thorson is a stunner. If she were single, I’d want to date her. But last I heard, she’s been in a long-term relationship with a college boyfriend. Long brown hair that flows past her shoulders is curled, and her face is perfectly made up. Her brown eyes are sparkling.
In a form-fitting black dress and heels, you would never guess she’s a hockey player. More like a model plucked from a runway during fashion week.
“I guess we’ll be locker buddies this season,” Parker says.
Parker is about as different from Skylar as you can get. In a pair of barrel jeans and a Rosebuds polo, she has a harder look about her. Her brown hair is cut short just below her ears and her hazel eyes are searching the locker room. For what, I don’t know.
“Did you all think we’d end up here?” I ask, taking my seat between them. As far as my outfit, I’m somewhere in the middle of these two women.
I wanted to look nice, but am still in the process of sorting through all of my clothes. In a pair of black leather pants and a pink blouse, I opted to wear heels to feel more confident today.
Nothing like a group of women all being thrown into the same room for the first time to feel like I’m back in high school again.
I left my makeup light, wanting my blue eyes to shine today as I meet my new teammates.
“Honestly? You never know where any of us are going to end up at any point,” Skylar says.
Parker whistles. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“Did you think you’d stay in Minneapolis?”
She nods. “I did. I guess no one was safe from restructuring.”
“It’ll be fun, though, to have more teams to play against.”
“Aren’t you the optimist?” Skylar says, resting one hand on the top shelf of her locker and leaning close. “Are you the type that thinks we’ll win every game?”
I beam up at her. “When I’m on the ice? Hell, yeah.”
“Damn straight.” Parker holds out her fist for me to bump. “We’re going to be the team to beat this year.”
“We’ve got a good group of people here,” Skylar says.
I nod. “I’m excited for it.”
“Now if we can see who our coach is,” Parker states. “Do you really think it’ll be Detroit’s guy?”
“He’s good,” Skylar tells us. “Took Detroit far last year. If we don’t get him, I’m sure Carolina or Miami will.”
I laugh. “It’s still weird to me that they expanded the league into two of the warmest states out there.”
Skylar shakes her head. “I wouldn’t mind being traded there. I do not handle the cold well.”
“We’ll make sure to get you a good winter coat then,” Parker tells her.
Another one of my new teammates comes up to us. “Hey, ladies. Sorry to break up the love fest, but time to head toward the press room.”
“Thanks.”
Standing, I run my hands over my pants to make sure they look okay. Not that the coach is going to base her first impression on how straight my pants are.
But I want to put a good foot forward.
Skylar walks ahead of us as Parker stays by my side. “Are you dating anyone?”
I shake my head. “No. Haven’t dated anyone in a while. Not for lack of trying.”
“Same. No good women out there.”
“The men I dated were lackluster at best and the women? They didn’t understand how hard it was to be a professional hockey player. Hell, half of them didn’t even realize there was a women’s league.”
“Ouch.” Parker whistles. “That has to hurt.”
“It stung. I mean, it’s not like it’s the first year.”
The Professional Women’s Hockey League was established three years ago. Having played for the national team before then, I was with Boston from the start.
“Well, between you and me then, we can focus on hockey this year.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me. I want to win the cup.”
“God, me too. I thought we had a shot last year in Minneapolis, but Detroit pulled the rug out from under us.”
I wince. Minneapolis was winning the series, poised to steal it in four games. Out of nowhere, Detroit found their energy and ended up coming back to win the series.
If you were a Minneapolis fan, it was hard to watch. If you were a Detroit fan? You were ecstatic.
“Sorry. That had to be hard.”
“You have no idea.”
Having gotten to know Angie’s brother, the goalie for the Black Diamonds, I know how hard they take losses. I would not want to carry that weight on my shoulders.
Filing into the press room, we take the empty seats next to Skylar. We’re seated behind the rows of press and upper management. The president is chatting with the owner of the team.
I try to find anyone that looks official. Carrying themselves like a leader, like they’re our coach, but I don’t see anyone.
The team’s logo is strewn across the banner on the backdrop behind the press table along with our main sponsors. That’s another thing I have to handle before practice starts. Working with the team to figure out how my sponsorships will transfer.
The team owner gets up on the makeshift stage and taps the microphone that rests on the table. Three chairs sit behind it, with a black tablecloth draped over the table.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming to the first press conference for the newly formed Toronto Rosebuds.” The owner pauses while everyone in the room claps.
There’s a thrill of energy that seems to float through the room.
It’s taken way too long to get a women’s hockey team to Toronto.
And even though I might not have wanted to be traded from Boston, I’m excited to be here.
“It’s with great enthusiasm that I welcome Delaney Charles as our new head coach.”
Wait, what? Delaney Charles? There is no way I heard him correctly. But when everyone stands and starts applauding for the woman walking into the room, my eyes don’t deceive me.
There she is.
Delaney.
As in Delaney Charles, my ex-girlfriend. Star player for the women’s national team who ruptured her ACL, ending her career.
She’s our coach?
Fuck me.
“Are you okay?” Skylar elbows me in the side.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you’re muttering under your breath, so I wanted to check and see if you’re okay or not.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
How do I tell the woman I’ve just met what the woman on stage means to me?
I was picked up by the national team out of college. The one person I met there that stuck with me? Delaney Charles.
She was in the prime of her career. The player every young girl aspired to be. Delaney was a phenomenal player. Her awareness on the ice wasn’t something that could be taught. It was second nature to her.
God, I wanted to be her when she was a player. I settled for sleeping with her.
And now she’ll be coaching me.
Seriously. How in the world did this happen?
“Good afternoon, everyone.” Delaney adjusts the mic and takes her seat.
She looks exactly how I remember her and different all at the same time.
Her long, dark hair is now cut into a short, blunt bob. In a white blouse, black pants, and a blazer—affixed with a Toronto Rosebuds pin—she looks every bit of a coach.
“As Mr. Sanders said, I am Delaney Charles and it is an honor to be announced as Toronto’s new head coach.”
Her brown eyes gaze around the room. They go right by me, not seeing.
“It’s exciting to see the PWHL expanding and growing. Not only are we now part of the league, but so are another three teams. It means good things for women in not only hockey, but sports overall.”
It’s hard to focus on what Delaney is saying. I still remember the last day I saw her.
It was the day of her injury. The one that ruptured her ACL and MCL. It was a nasty hit. It wasn’t intentional, but the way she hit the ice? It was bad. It brought everyone to their knees.
We were playing in Finland, a proud sporting country, but that day? You could have heard a pin drop it was so quiet in the arena.
We lost the game and had to leave for home the next day. Without Delaney. It was a gut-wrenching feeling to see her left behind. I visited her in the hospital, but that was it.
I wanted to stay with her, but it’s not like I could tell the team we were…what? Seeing each other?
Delaney and I were casual. No dates, but sleeping together exclusively. Not necessarily girlfriends, but it felt like it at the time. I only had eyes for her.
But being stranded in a foreign country? I hated the idea of her being left behind.
Seeing the woman in the front of the room feels like that was from a different lifetime. The Delaney I knew was fun and carefree. This person seems to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“Thank you, Ms. Charles, for being here with us today. We are going to open it up to questions before allowing our new coach to meet with the team.”
A few people clap as hands shoot into the air and Delaney’s name is called out.
God. Delaney Charles.
What I wouldn’t give to have this be five years ago. To see Delaney and get to have a few words with her.
Now, I’m going to have to figure out how to be around the woman that had me all twisted up all those years ago.