Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
LYDIA
My alarm goes off and I silence my phone, shoving the last bite of eggs in my mouth before grabbing my smoothie to wash them down. The excitement was thrumming through me so I couldn’t sleep.
It’s finally here. The very first practice of the new season for the Toronto Rosebuds.
There is nothing I love more than the first day of practice. With all the change in the offseason, I’m ready to get back to the thing I love. To the thing I’m good at.
Tying my hair back into a ponytail, I grab my jacket and bag, stuff my feet into my shoes, and pick up my keys.
I blast a playlist to get me even more pumped for practice as I make the short drive to the arena. I crack the windows, letting the cold morning air cool my overheated skin. It’s always like this on the first day of a new season.
It’s a clean slate. A fresh start for every team and every player. Boston lost in the first round of the playoffs last year. I still haven’t won the cup. I’m hoping that will change this year.
Finding the players’ lot, I steer my car into an empty space and grab my bag. The arena is old. Nothing fancy or new like the men’s team.
But I don’t care. It’s ours. My new home away from home.
“Good morning, ma’am.” An older gentleman with salt and pepper hair sits at the desk as I walk inside.
“Good morning.” I stick my hand out to the security guard. “Lydia Bishop.”
“Larry. Pleased to meet you, Miss Bishop. Ready for the season to start?”
I nod. “Yes. I’m excited.”
“Me too.” He grins at me. “My wife and I were excited when we finally got a women’s team.”
“I hope we do you both proud.”
He nods. “You will. Now, go get to practice so we can win the cup.”
“That’s the plan.” I smack the desk he’s sitting behind. “Have a good one, Larry.”
“You too, miss.”
Walking through the maze of halls to the locker room, the walls are covered in our sponsors’ logos. In time, I’m hoping pictures of us playing will replace them.
By the time I get to the locker room, music is blaring. I’m not the only one that is excited to get things started.
“Lydia. Hey.” Parker waves me over to where she’s suiting up with Skylar next to her.
“Hey. How’s it going?” I drop my bag onto the wooden bench next to where Parker is sitting.
“Ready to get this show on the road,” Parker says.
“Did you have a nice weekend?” Skylar asks as she pulls her jersey on over her pads.
I smile. “I did. You?”
“Brian and I found a cute new coffee place near us. It feels like we’re settling in.”
“I’m glad,” I tell her.
I don’t go into details about my weekend. They don’t need to know about my run-in with our coach. Or the conversation the two of us had about our past.
It feels like a new beginning for the two of us. One as a player and a coach.
I start pulling things out of my bag to change into my gear.
“Good morning, everyone,” Delaney’s voice echoes around the bright locker room.
“Morning,” voices reply.
“I’m glad to see you’re all here early.”
I pull my jersey over my head and pull my ponytail out before facing her. Her eyes are scanning the locker room. She’s in a black quarter-zip pullover with the Rosebuds logo on the chest. A matching hat covers her dark bob. With the whistle hanging around her neck, she looks like a professional.
Damn.
It shouldn’t be a turn-on to see her like this, but it is.
You’re not allowed to have feelings for your coach, Lydia.
Delaney is off-limits. Players and coaches aren’t allowed to be in relationships. Not that I have feelings for D. I mean, having a nickname for her does not equate to feelings. None at all.
“Practice starts in twenty minutes, so make sure you’re on the ice and ready to go. There’s some breakfast in the kitchen in case anyone needs to grab some last-minute fuel. We’ll see you out there.”
Delaney and the assistant coaches head out. My eyes follow her until she’s gone.
“I’m going to go grab something. I was too nervous to eat earlier,” Parker says. “You two want anything?”
“I’m good.” I shake my head.
“No, thanks,” Skylar says.
Grabbing the tape from my bag, I start to wrap my stick. It’s the first thing I do before the first practice. Before every game. I can’t help myself. I have to do it.
I’m superstitious.
“I’ll see you out there?” Skylar is ready to go, stick and helmet in hand.
“See you out there.”
The locker room starts to empty as I take a few minutes to settle myself. I don’t know what will happen today, but I’m excited.
Excited for this new chapter in my life. For this new group of women I’ll be playing with. Hell, even excited to be playing for my ex.
The two of us will be nothing but professional. Based on how she was when I first saw her, I have no doubt she’ll keep me at arms’ length.
Again, it’s fine.
She’s my coach. I’m the player.
I’m here for hockey, not Delaney.
Tossing my tape onto the shelf above my locker, I grab my helmet and head out onto the ice. Pucks hitting the back of the net greet me. Skates crunching through the ice.
There’s no better sound in the world than hockey.
Parker is in the other goal, scraping the ice in the crease.
I do a few laps around the boards before the whistle blows.
“Alright, everyone. We’re going to scrimmage today. Ten minutes then we’re going to change up the lines. I want to see how everyone plays together. No pressure. I want everyone to have fun today. Bailey and Nadia have the lineups.”
They call out everyone’s names and I take my position in my line. As soon as everyone is set, the whistle blows.
Every single thought flees my head as my focus narrows solely to the puck and what I need to do.
The center on our line wins the puck drop and passes it to me.
I take off down the ice. Skylar is moving with me.
I shoot the puck to her. She bounces it back to our center.
The defenders are able to hook their stick and get in the way of the pass as they move toward their end of the ice.
Shifting gears, I chase them down and watch as our defenders block a shot on goal. Skylar scoops the puck up and flies down the ice. Watching her skate is a thing of beauty.
Her gaze flits to mine as I accept her pass and put it in the back of the net.
“Great pass!” I call over to Skylar.
I can see her smile through the mask of her helmet.
“That was a great shot.” We bump our gloves together as the whistle blows.
“Well done, ladies. Don’t get used to that,” the goalie tells us. Parker is on our team and at the other end of the ice.
“There’s plenty more where that came from.”
We skate back to center ice as play resumes. Everyone starts to settle into their lines as we exchange shots on goal. Parker makes a quick glove save then Skylar’s shot on the other end is batted away by the goalie’s stick.
The whistle blows, ending our time on the ice as we all skate to the bench.
“Nice job out there,” Delaney tells us as we take a seat.
“Thanks, Coach,” I tell her.
Grabbing a water bottle, I take a swig and watch the game unfold in front of my eyes. The coaches are making notes on their tablets, chatting with each other. Everyone is calling out words of encouragement as scrimmage continues.
Damn. I have no idea where the lines are going to end up, but everyone looks good.
It’s only the first day but it makes me excited to be a part of this team. To be a part of something special.
Don’t get me wrong—I loved what I had in Boston. It was the first professional team I played for after I left the national team.
Now that I have a few years under my belt, it feels like I can take a real leadership role on this team. With so much new talent on the team, this is what I want. Hell, maybe I can even become captain.
As the final whistle blows after a good, hard practice, I can’t wipe the grin off my face.
It’s going to be one hell of a season for the Rosebuds.