Chapter 13 Brody
THIRTEEN
brODY
The arena where the Minneapolis Loons play is cold as hell. I can’t warm up my hands, and I rub my palms together as I join the coaching staff in the locker room.
“November sucks, doesn’t it?” Mikal adjusts his suit jacket and grabs my whiteboard for me. “Everything is wet and dreary. The sun sets too early. Not a lot of redeeming qualities. Especially in Minnesota.”
“Could be February.” I gesture Riley’s way, giving him the okay to gather up the guys for our pregame talk.
He’s still a part of this team even if he’s not wearing the jersey, and he’s slipped into the role of “extra assistant coach” well.
“I’m making a lineup change before we submit tonight’s roster, by the way. ”
“You are?” Mikal frowns. “Who’s getting the boot?”
“I’m replacing Mulligan on the first line with Everett. Figured we could mix things up. Everett’s passing has improved. His defense is some of the best on the team, and I need to reward the guy for working so hard.”
“I support that decision,” Parker Barnes, my other assistant coach, chimes in. “His effort has been great lately. First one to morning skate. Last one to leave. No harm in trying something new.”
“Listen up,” I say, breaking away to address the locker room.
Everyone quiets down and looks my way. “We had a rough night last night with that loss at home, but the slate is clean this evening. The Loons are last in the league in points, so expect weak defense and fewer shots on goal. We want to focus on our efficiency. Making the extra pass to someone who has the open shot instead of trying to be the hero. Starting lineup is Sullivan, Richardson, Hayes, Maverick, Fitzpatrick, and Everett.”
Grant drops his stick and stares at me, mouth open. Ethan wraps him in a hug and shakes him, grinning wildly. I look over at Maverick and he nods, silent in his agreement with my decision.
“Ten minutes until showtime, boys. Do what you need to do to set yourselves up for success,” I say.
Everyone turns their attention to their stalls and the last minute superstitions they like to go through, but Grant pops to his feet.
He hurries my way, clutching his gloves tight to his chest. “What’s up, Everett? ”
“Coach. Are you, ah, sure about this? Mulligan has more experience, and I—”
“Experience doesn’t win games. Heart does, and you have a lot of heart.”
“Okay. Okay. Yeah.” He dips his chin, mumbling something to himself. “Thank you, um, for this opportunity. I promise I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t,” I say, and when he moves back to his stall and accepts another hug from Ethan and Maverick, I almost smile.
“Think you just made his year,” Mikal says. “Look how excited he is.”
“Let’s hope he delivers.” I fix my tie and turn for the small office my bag is in. “I need to grab my marker. I’ll see you out there in a few.”
I rifle through my backpack, finding my favorite dry erase marker. I slide it behind my ear, frowning when my phone rings. It’s buried under my stack of game notes on the Loons, and when I pull it out, I see that Kali is calling.
“Hey,” I say, answering quickly. “Everything okay? I only have a second before puck drop.”
“Brody Saunders,” she says. “When were you going to tell me that Hannah Everett is gorgeous?”
“Fucking hell, Kal. I thought this was a fucking emergency.”
“I was picking up our daughter this afternoon and saw this stunning woman with golden hair spinning in the middle of the ice, and I realized it was Livvy’s coach.”
“How are you just realizing this? They have been working together for two weeks.”
Two weeks of seeing Liv and Hannah together on the ice.
Two weeks of hearing them laugh and wondering what’s so funny.
Two weeks of listening to Liv talk nonstop in the car about the new ways Hannah is challenging her, and two weeks of silky ribbons I want to tug out of Hannah’s hair and keep for myself.
“And I hadn’t met her before this afternoon. Now I understand why you were blushing when you mentioned her to Liv the first time.” I know Kali is smirking even though I can’t see her. “Because she’s hot.”
I unfasten the top button of my shirt, glad I’m hidden away from everyone else. The last thing I need is an audience for this conversation or something to be taken out of context.
“I didn’t hire her for her looks,” I say, keeping my voice low. “I hired her because she’s good at what she does.”
“And she’s also nice to look at.”
“I’m hanging up. I have a game to coach.”
“All I’m saying is Hannah seems fun. You could use some fun in your life.”
“Appreciate the insight. Can I help you with anything else?”
“No.” Kali laughs. It feels like she knows I’m hiding something, but I keep my mouth shut. “Have a good game, Brody.”
“Coach.” Mikal pops his head into the office when I hang up. “Waiting on you.”
“Sorry,” I grumble, tossing my phone back in my bag. I shove any thoughts of Hannah out of my mind. Hockey is my priority. “I’m ready.”
With one minute left on the clock in the third period, the game is tied.
The Loons came out with unanticipated aggression after having the last two days off while we’re gassed after a short turnaround from last night’s defeat. Liam’s playing well in net, only giving up one goal, but we’re coming down to the wire.
I take a timeout, using my whiteboard to plan out a play.
“We’re dealing the puck to Miller.” I draw an arrow from his dot toward the goal, signaling forward movement.
“They’re going to try to crowd you in the corner.
If you get boxed in, chuck it over to Richardson and see if we can sneak another five-hole goal past them.
We got lucky in the second with that first one, but they’re anticipating Miller to do something flashy.
We might be able to go two-for-two. We’re not going with an empty net, so Fitzpatrick and Hayes, I want you past center ice.
If we can get a rebound off a miss, anyone can take it. ”
“Hands in, boys,” Maverick says, and all their gloved hands stack on top of each other. “Perseverance on three. One, two, three.”
“Perseverance,” they chant, and I knock their helmets with my knuckles.
We win the face-off, and Ethan passes the puck to Hudson.
Hayes sends it over to Maverick on the right side of the ice.
He kicks it to Fitzpatrick who brings it back to Miller, and we’re down to thirty seconds.
I glance at the jumbotron then back to the play unfolding in front of me, groaning when Maverick takes a shot that bounces off the goal post.
“Shit,” I mumble, standing on my toes so I can see over the heads of the guys on the bench. They’re all standing now, hitting the boards with their sticks as Ethan attempts a shot that’s an inch too far to the left. “Someone needs to fucking do something.”
“Coach.” Riley elbows me, and I see it. “Look.”
Grant is just outside the right face-off circle, calling for the puck.
Ethan passes it his way, and I watch Grant pull his stick back and fire off the prettiest wrist shot I’ve ever seen.
A player from the Loons dives in front of the puck, but he’s too late.
It’s already soaring to the net. Flying past two defenders and slotting into the goal, right past the goalie’s blocker as time expires.
The officials blow their whistles and the guys on the bench tumble over the boards, swarming the five on the ice and tackling Grant until they all fall into a dogpile. I pump my fist and Parker gives Mikal a high five before reaching for me, patting my back in a celebratory hug.
“Fuck yeah, B,” he yells. “Damn good call making that lineup change.”
“Fucking ballsy of Everett to step up to the plate with that shot.” I lift a hand in a wave toward the Loons coach. “That was big time.”
“Hope it doesn’t go to his head.” Mikal laughs, giving Liam a fist bump as he skates past us to join the celebrations.
“Doubt it will. He’s humble as hell. Let’s try to get everyone out of here in one piece.”
The guys drench Grant in sports drink from their water bottles when we get back to the locker room.
Maverick hands him the game-winning puck and ruffles his hair, telling him he’s proud of him before he gets pulled to do an interview.
I sit in for a press conference where I’m hounded with questions about the lineup change.
By the time the mayhem dies down, I’m still buzzing with adrenaline. This is my favorite part about coaching and also what I miss the most about playing: the high a win brings. The camaraderie and excitement, and I take a breath before addressing the room.
“Good work out there, boys. Special accolades go to Sullivan for his forty-seven saves, and to Everett for the goal that gave us the W.” I pause so everyone can clap.
Grant grins from his stall, bare-chested and unlacing his skates.
“We have three days off, a West Coast road trip, then we’re back home for Thanksgiving to close out the month.
Let’s keep this momentum going forward. We need to be thinking about the games in June right now, and tonight’s performance was an all-around team effort.
You should be proud of yourselves. Bus for the airport leaves soon.
No morning skate tomorrow, but we’re back in action on Thursday.
Grab a shower, pack it up, move it out.”
There’s another round of applause from the group, and head for the office.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and check to make sure I have my laptop and charger.
My phone chimes and I groan, knowing it’s probably Kali giving me more shit.
But when I pick it up, there’s a text from Hannah, and my heart races.
I’ve been avoiding our coaching session. The first week we were supposed to work together, I had a scheduling conflict and had to cancel. Last week I panicked when I wondered what the hell we were going to talk about for an hour. I lied and said a meeting came up, and it’s been eating at me since.
Hannah is holding up her end of the agreement. She’s with my daughter four days a week, doing exactly what I asked, while I’m over here with a stick up my ass because I’m fucking afraid.
I have no idea how to coach a figure skater who has competed at the highest level. I have no idea how to be around her for an extended period of time without Liv as a buffer.
All of this falls outside of my carefully constructed routine. It’s an interruption, and I don’t like interruptions.
But I hate disappointing people more.
I slide my thumb across the screen, reading her message.
H.E.
Is this the most excited you’ve ever been about anything in your life?
*Attachment: 1 video*
It’s a recording from her television taken after Grant’s goal. She’s zoomed in on me, Parker, and Mikal during our celebrations. You can see my obvious enthusiasm and I snort, firing off a quick response.
Me
One time I opened a jar of pickles on the first try. That probably takes the cake.
H.E.
I’m actually LOL. You know how some people say LOL but they aren’t? I am.
Me
LOL?
H.E.
God, Brody. Don’t you have a teenager? Laughing out loud.
Me
Me: I knew what it meant. Just wanted to prove the point that it would’ve taken you less time to type that out first.
H.E.
You’re a pain in the ass.
Me
I’ve heard that before.
H.E.
Grant just called me. He’s ecstatic. You have to admit you were a little pumped after that shot.
Me
Can’t you hear my excitement through the phone?
H.E.
Oh, yeah. Calm down, killer.
I hold back a laugh.
Me
It was the best goal of the season. He earned it.
H.E.
Proud sister over here.
Anyway. I’m sure you’re busy with your coaching responsibilities. I won’t bother you… just couldn’t resist sharing that clip. Have a good night!
Me
Not a bother. While I have you, I want to apologize for having to reschedule our first skating lesson so many times. Can you do tomorrow morning?
H.E.
I can, but won’t you be tired? You’re landing late tonight. I don’t mind waiting until next week.
Me
I’m a big boy. I’ll manage.
It takes a minute for her to respond, and I curse myself for making a stupid joke.
What the fuck was that?
That wasn’t very friendly of me, and I hope I didn’t make her uncomfortable. When she answers, shifting gears, I blow out a sigh of relief.
H.E.
Is 9 too early?
Me
9 works.
H.E.
Do you like coffee?
Me
I do like coffee.
H.E.
Let me guess. Black?
Me
Not even close. I go for iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espressos, but a regular coffee with cream and sugar is fine.
H.E.
Sugar oat WHAT?
Holy shit. That came out of left field, but I love surprises. I’m going to bring you the biggest size with as much espresso as the cup can fit. Since you’re a big boy and all.
My cheeks flush at her response. Parker knocks on the door to the office, and I nearly drop my phone.
“Ready, B? Boys are loaded up,” he says.
“Yeah. Yes. Airport,” I say.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you having a stroke? Do I need to get a doctor?”
“I’m fine.” I shove my laptop and charger in my bag. “Let’s get out of here.”
My phone burns a hole in my pocket when I climb onto the team bus and take my seat.
It stays there while I ignore the guys trying to get me to join some social media dance trend and board the plane.
Right before takeoff, I read her message again.
My fingers hover over the keys, and I can blame my response on the energy from tonight.
Something fleeting I won’t let myself indulge in tomorrow.
Me
Can’t wait.