Chapter 4
FOUR
JJ
I will kill this motherfucker.
While I hate Hopie’s husband because he’s an absolute douche, I despise this asshole because he’s a predator.
Unfortunately, that trait isn’t uncommon in hockey. I do my best to avoid dickheads like Dirk and put them in their place when I can. But if I went around beating every man who takes advantage of a woman, I wouldn’t have time to play the game.
But Dirk? I would fucking love to put him in the ground.
“Derek, right?” Adeline says, her voice deceptively light, her expression completely neutral.
If not for the rage simmering in my blood right now, I’d laugh at the way the asshole scowls in response.
“Dirk,” he grits out. He has the audacity to glance at Sidney with a sneer that says Can you believe this chick? My teammate ignores him completely, and the disgust on Jarred’s face makes me hopeful that he’s not going to offer him any camaraderie.
He doesn’t bother looking at me. He knows better than to expect me to join in.
“Oh really? That’s different.” Adeline tilts her head. “Do you go by a nickname? One that might be easier to remember?”
Behind her, Brooks chokes, his face turning red. I’m pretty sure he’s holding back a laugh.
Nicknames are a thing in hockey. We all have them. My whole life, the fans have called Brooks Saint. And he is a damn saint, both on and off the ice. The guy had more shutouts than any other goalie during his career.
Aiden was the Leprechaun. The nickname goes back to his high school days and stuck when he brought luck to the Bolts, scoring during his first pro game and later helping the team win those three Stanley Cups.
Personally, I always called the kid hovering beside us now Limp Dick, but the name that stuck in high school is so much worse. “He’s the Muffin Man. Remember him now, Coach?”
Adeline Langfield hasn’t aimed a real smile in my direction in nearly half a decade, but the one that splits her face wide open now is fucking spectacular.
“Oh, right,” she says with a laugh. “Couldn’t stop even the slowest of pucks back then if I’m remembering correctly. Hope you’re better in my net this time around.”
Cade is choking now too, he and Brooks turning away. Sidney has a gloved hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his own laugh.
“That’s—I—” Dirk stutters.
He shouldn’t even bother. He dug his grave a long time ago. No apology could ever make me like the man. And I’m positive he won’t rise to a level that would incentivize the Bolts to keep him here for long. Still, his presence makes me itch.
“Time to get started,” our coach calls from the ice.
The players all head for center ice and circle around Gavin.
Addie doesn’t give Dirk another second of her time.
She lines up along with the other coaches, her head held high, though she garners more than a few stares.
The guys aren’t used to having a woman out here, and if I had to guess, more than a few of them are skeptical of her right to stand in that lineup.
She’s twenty-six, which is young for a coach.
And she’s a woman. Can’t sugarcoat that. Then there’s the family name.
But what most don’t understand is how incredible she is. Sidney, thankfully, knows what she brings to the game like I do, and she’ll spend most of her time with the two of us. Which means if anyone has a problem, they can deal with us.
“Hope you all had a nice, relaxing break,” Gavin starts. He’s been the Bolts’ head coach for twenty years, and while there have been rumblings of a retirement after this season, I don’t think he’ll do it unless we make it to the finals.
It’s possible. Last season was a good one, and if we can make the right tweaks and the young blood can keep up, we really have a shot.
With Addie’s help, there’s no way Sidney and I won’t be ready.
I chew on my mouthguard, a bad habit, and stare daggers at Dirk. He can’t possibly think he’s going to impress anyone after he spent years torturing Adeline.
In any other position? Maybe. But as a goalie, the likelihood is diminished even further. The Bolts already have two goalies on the roster. We don’t need another, and management sure as shit won’t replace Sidney or me with the likes of the Muffin Man.
I chuckle to myself over the damn nickname. I had the honor of coming up with it. I whispered it to one of the kids at camp after Dirk had been a complete dickhead to Adeline, and the rest is history.
A slow puck is called a muffin shot, and after Dirk’s slow as hell reaction when I punched him, the nickname came easy.
And damn if it hasn’t stuck with him all these years. Fucker deserves nothing but misery.
Sidney and I both have a good rapport with management and the coaching staff and have remained in good physical health since I was drafted, mostly because Gavin and Cade are strategic about how they play us, allowing us to rest during long hauls because it doesn’t really matter which of us is in the net. With either, the crease is protected.
Though that changed last year when Cade pushed for me to take on more of a front-line position. Sidney made it clear that he agreed with the tactic, and I expect it’ll be more of the same this year.
I love the camaraderie here. And it feels incredible to be needed by the team like this. Yet I’m needed just as much, if not more, at home. I’m all Avery has. Even when Tabitha was still in the picture, she was barely involved.
Last season I was constantly scrambling to find someone to take care of Avery because Tabitha would just disappear on a whim.
Honestly, her absence is better in the long term. Having her pop in and out of Avery’s life whenever she chose was brutal. Knowing that it’s just the two of us now allows me to give Avery the structure she so needs at this age. Even if it’s the chaotic structure of the brownstone.
Thank fuck Beckett offered this living situation as a solution.
If not, I would have retired this year. I don’t need this job or the money.
I may love it, but no job is worth Avery’s happiness and well-being.
But once I found out my cousin Hope was moving into the brownstone as well, the decision was easy.
Because starting now, when I travel, Avery will be surrounded by her cousins and a houseful of people who love her almost as much as I do.
People I trust to have her best interests in mind.
“Aiden will be handling special teams,” Gavin says as I force myself to focus on his instructions.
As Aiden steps forward, I expect him to break out in song like he does in almost any situation, but instead, he just gives a little wave.
“And I’d like to introduce Adeline Langfield, our new goaltender coach,” Gavin continues.
“We are incredibly lucky that Coach Langfield has joined us. Adeline is a two-time Olympic gold medalist and the former leading goaltender of the PWHL. And as most of you know, she’s my niece. ” He smiles at her warmly.
In response, she offers him a simple nod, maintaining a professional air.
A rookie raises a hand, and with a sigh, Gavin nods at him.
“Permission to use nicknames, Coach? There are too many Langfields on staff to keep up with.”
Several guys laugh, but Gavin, who is normally pretty laid-back, doesn’t smile. “I’ll let Coach Langfield inform you of what she prefers to be called, but if she’s given a nickname, then I suggest you give Aiden and Brooks and me similar monikers too.”
The warning is clear. Adeline should be treated with the same respect as any male coach in this room.
“I’m happy to go by Lep,” Aiden says with an easy smile, breaking the tension.
The group breaks into quiet chatter, the guys discussing their own nicknames. Some are plays on last names, some are related to their positions, and some are throwbacks to stupid things the guys did when they were kids, like Dirk.
Adeline is the one who gave me my nickname.
Hansy is a play on Hanson, but it also refers to the way I used to stop so many goals with my hands. A terrible habit that resulted in me overstretching my back and did a number on my knees.
Addie Angles saved me, though. The girl could contort her body into angles not one of us could ever hope to mimic.
But fuck did we try.
The girl would do anything to stop a puck. That’s why I still believe she should be out on that ice rather than standing on the sidelines training me.
Adeline gives the rookie the kind of smile that comes with teeth. She’s not showing them, but damn is she about to bite. “You can call me Coach,” she tells him over the loud chatter of the rest of the guys.
The noise dies at the sound of her voice, probably because we know that when any coach speaks, we shut the fuck up rather than because of her tone.
“And if that’s too confusing for you,” she coos with the deadliest of smiles, “I answer to Great One, Madam Hockey, and the devil. Take your pick.”
Her uncles all chuckle, as does the majority of the first line. We all know that Adeline is pretty harmless, but we also know that in order to make it in this industry, she has to have one hell of a thick skin.
I gnaw on my mouth guard again, studying the only person in this room who didn’t even crack a smile at her joke.
Dirk.
The guy is going to be a problem.
“Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way,” Gavin says with a clap that echoes off the high ceiling, “let’s have some fun.”
As we disperse, I head to the boards, ready for instructions.
Sidney and Cade remain at center ice, talking, and Gavin asks Adeline to stay back for a second, so it’s just me along with Jarred and Dirk. Not wanting to make conversation with Dirk, I turn away from him and focus on retying my skates.
“Can you believe they put her in this position?” he grumbles to Jarred. “We’d probably be better off getting cut. Then maybe we’d get picked up by another team.”
I roll my eyes. The kid doesn’t have a shot at a spot on our roster regardless, but I doubt any NHL team will be knocking down his door in hopes of signing him.
“Door’s right there,” Addie says, skating toward the asshole.
She’s put up with shit like this from bullies her whole life, and by now, it’s clear she knows that she has to get in his face. That she can’t cower.
I’m so fucking proud of her for the way she handles herself. She used to let him chirp. Ignore him. And I get the tactic. But now that she’s the coach, she can’t go on like that. She has to put him in his place. “Or you can get in the net and let me see if your reflexes are as fast as your mouth.”
Dirk grumbles an apology, and she shakes her head like it’s no big deal. “Go get sneakers on. I’ll meet you in the gym,” she tells us.
I shift closer to her as the guys skate toward the locker room. “You okay?”
She tenses, but only for only a second. Then she lets out a long sigh. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It can’t be easy seeing him again.” I shouldn’t push this, I know that, but I can’t help myself.
I can’t help but remind her that there was a time when I knew just about everything about her.
All her deep, dark secrets. Every insecurity.
This must be hard, and I’m itching for her to acknowledge our past friendship even if only for a second. Why? I have no fucking clue.
She says nothing.
“You should talk to Gavin. Tell him—”
Her spine snaps straight and her head whips my way. “Are you planning on losing your spot on the team?”
“No.” I jolt back with a scowl.
She remains completely calm, her attention back on the net. “Has Sidney mentioned anything to you about retiring?”
A thread of uncertainty weaves its way through me. “No.”
“Then I don’t have to worry about Dirk. He’ll be gone in a week.”
I can’t stop the irritated rumble deep in my chest. “You know what I mean.”
“JJ.”
I should feel bad for pushing her. Instead, I’m too caught up on my name coming from her mouth.
Because for the last few years, she hasn’t said my name.
She stopped talking to me period. So for a moment I replay the way the two syllables sounded on her lips.
It almost makes me smile, though the urge is extinguished quickly when her expression turns murderous.
“Mind your business.”