Chapter 26
RAIN
Around the conference table in Coach’s office, we’d run through the logistics of the game like usual—what worked, what didn’t, brief ideas to expand on at a later time, thoughts to ruminate over as we headed home—but now we were getting down to my business.
“Good call on Sunny,” Coach Hines said, nodding my way.
“Thanks. Glad it helped.”
I could feel the other coaches’ eyes on me, but glancing around, I didn’t see any hostility.
Thank goodness. I struggled a bit with the beginning part of a new job, where I had to prove myself.
Then after that, I’d navigate anyone who didn’t like a girl knowing the sport as well as they did—if not better.
I didn’t sense that here, and hope began to rise inside me.
That meant good things for the team. They were open to change. That was everything.
“Mind sharing what you told him?” Javier, one of the assistant coaches, asked.
He’d played hockey until a knee injury ended his career in the AHL.
After that, he began working his way up the coaching ladder, and this was his first year working with an NHL team.
Young. Lean build. Brown skin. Dark eyes.
He was the kind of guy who was attractive but wasn’t focused on his looks.
He was only focused on his job. That made him somewhat intense at times, but it seemed he wanted to learn anything and everything to do the best job he could. I liked that about him.
I relayed a brief summary, and they all stared.
Coach Hines finally cleared his throat. “We should’ve been more clear in our instructions.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes the best thing is just to lay it out for them. That worked today for Sunny, but I don’t think it was mishandled initially.
You guys planted the seed. That means some things were unearthed.
I just came along and began weeding, in essence.
” I added, “The end goal is always to win. Obviously. However, I’ve never subscribed to the method of just telling them to win.
I’ve found that when you switch their mindset to competing with themselves, trying to beat their personal records, or making a game of it, that eases some of the pressure.
It’s also a bit more fun, and we all know that when hockey players are having fun, generally they’re going to play their best.”
Marken nodded along as I spoke. “Brick loved the exercise you did with him. Meester’s already asked if I’d do the same with him.
” None of the other coaches seemed surprised, so he must’ve already shared this with them.
“I’m going to be honest; your slap shot is a helluva lot more lethal than mine.
You interested in working with Meester on that? ”
I gave him a small smile. “Yeah. I’d like to spend some one-on-one time with him anyway. He’s in his head a lot, I can tell.”
Marken nodded. “He is.”
Coach Hines cleared his throat again. “Our first line is working well together. Let’s focus on the second line.
Bruge and Markie are struggling. Keeting seems adaptable to both.
” He glanced at me before turning to Javier.
“If you have thoughts on smoothing them out, I’m open to suggestions.
But let’s cover that tomorrow morning. Any more general thoughts about the game tonight? ”
It seemed we’d covered things for now, and when the meeting came to an end, I slipped out to use the bathroom.
As I returned, Coach Hines was locking his office.
The locker room lights had dimmed, so everyone was gone already, except the equipment managers.
Games usually ended late, so people liked to get home.
I wasn’t surprised to find we were the last ones around.
At hearing my footsteps, Coach Hines looked my way. He waited by his door as I approached. “Did you know that before I took this job, I used to coach at Minnesota? The U of M.”
I shook my head, lying. I did know that about him.
He studied me a moment, and I thought I caught a flash of amusement there. “I did. So I was local for a good long while. I was here when Griffin was a rising star, but there was a set of brothers as well. The Connors brothers. They’re also from around here.”
I tensed.
“Back then, their pop was pretty active, making sure they got the best coaches looking at them,” he continued.
“He liked to drop hints about their practice schedules. One day, I was in the area and thought, what the hell? So I stopped by to watch. They didn’t know I was there.
I never said anything. Just came in, took a seat in the back, and watched their practice.
” He looked at me carefully. “The funny thing is, their dad wasn’t with them.
There was a girl with them on the ice, though.
She skated just as fast as they did, acted as their goalie at times.
I watched them for a full hour. I didn’t intend to watch that long, but I liked what I was seeing.
I never knew who the little girl was, because she wore a helmet, but I always figured it was a sister.
Maybe a cousin. Didn’t seem like a girlfriend.
Neither of the boys was particularly kind to her, or to each other really. They were straight business.”
His eyes grew distant, and he nodded to himself.
“After that day, I always thought I’d be hearing about a Connors sister.
My daughter played back then. She went to college, got a scholarship, so I had an ear tuned, you know?
But nothing. I never heard about a female Connors playing the sport.
Always wondered though.” He waited a beat before his eyes found my face again.
My throat had tightened in slight panic at the memory of being a hockey bitch for my brothers.
“Mal made sure I was aware that you wouldn’t be at the games when we play Montreal and Boston,” he added. “Both teams have a Connors playing for them.”
I had to turn away from the knowing look on his face.
“I have three girls. All three played hockey, and none of them played because I wanted them to. They took to the sport like blood-thirsty Amazonians, and they got that competitive streak from their mother. She was all-state in track two years in a row. I love my girls, all of them, and if any of them had wanted to play golf or be a mathlete, I would’ve been just as proud of them.
So, if you ever want to talk, about anything, my door is open.
And if not, that’s just fine too.” He patted my shoulder, starting down the hallway.
“You have a good night, Rain. Do something fun to celebrate. We’ve got a long road ahead of us. ”
I stood there in the hallway, my feet rooted and my legs going numb. He was almost to the door when I heard myself asking, my voice a little hoarse, “Was it my last name?”
He reached for the door but looked back.
I started after him, my feet stumbling. Cold sweat trickled down my spine. “Hockey’s a small world, but I didn’t think a last name would be that obvious. The Wolverines have two Henrik Gustavson players. They aren’t related, but maybe I’m fooling myself.”
He shook his head. “I know a few other Connors in hockey, and none of them are related, so no, it wasn’t the last name. You’ve got the same slapshot as both your brothers.”
Humiliation burned through me. I should’ve known, should’ve thought of that.
He opened the door for us and stepped out first, giving my arm another pat as I moved past him. “Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve seen you skate twice now—against Brick the other day and back then with your brothers. I wouldn’t worry about anything.”
We fell in step as we moved toward the parking lot.
“Should I be expecting a call from Keith Connors if word gets out about you working with us?” Coach asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “He won’t call, but Daniel might. He won’t be happy about me being here.”
That was an understatement. Daniel would be livid. He’d probably try to get me fired—throw his weight around, make some threats. I’d heard him do it enough times in the past.
Coach grunted. “Got it.” We continued walking in silence until it was time to separate. “Never liked the eldest Connors boy. Always thought he had an attitude problem. Still do.” He gave me a last wave before heading to his vehicle.
That conversation had just about ended me, but I couldn’t stop smiling all the way to the hotel.