Chapter 13
Alexander
This is it, she will have to introduce us and actually say my name out loud. After the horrible game we just had, it will feel good to finally have Sarah say my name—a small win on a terrible day.
The whole captain thing is fun, but I’m also dying for her to call me Alexander.
She looks between her dad and me.
Of course, I know who he is. I know my NHL history quite well. And anyone significant to Sarah is quickly becoming important to me as well.
“Dad, this is A—” before she can finish, her dad cuts in.
“Alexander McGregor, I know, sweetheart. Nice to meet you. I’m John Parker.” I curse inside myself, so close, yet so far.
The smile Sarah gives me from beside her dad shows me she’s pretty satisfied with her dad cutting her off. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this smug, the little Winx.
I shake his hand firmly.
“Nice to meet you, John. I’m Alexander. Sorry you caught our game on a day like this,” I tell him.
“Nonsense, it’s all part of the sport, which I think you know quite well, captain. You’ll bounce back; Chicago always does,” he tells me, and again, the captain thing reminds me of the watchful blonde beside him, observing our exchange.
“Yeah, just like you did back in the nineties with Washington. The 97’ season was tough,” I say, and John seems impressed. Even though it wasn’t my intention, it gives me a good feeling to know I’m making an impression on Sarah’s dad.
“A man who knows his hockey history. The 97’ season was indeed very tough, but it also gave me the greatest gifts of all,” he casts a loving look down at his daughter, who smiles up at him. I can tell their bond is special.
“We should get going. Nice to meet you, Alexander,” he tells me, and I give him one last handshake before they move around me.
I brush my fingers against Sarah’s, making her look down at our hands, before she looks into my eyes one last time before continuing down the hallway with her dad.
～
The next day, my apartment is finally ready for me to move back in. Having stayed in a hotel for weeks, I’m more than ready to return to my apartment and my own space.
After a morning run, I pack my suitcase and check out of the hotel before heading over to my building.
My apartment is also closer to the rink than the hotel, making it easier to come and go. When everything is unpacked, I grab my gear and head to the arena.
First, I have a meeting with our coach. I usually meet with him before the team meeting to ensure we’re aligned on our strategy and plan moving forward.
Especially after a loss or a tough game, it’s crucial to present a united front and maintain stability in leadership.
“Hey, coach,” I greet him as he waves me into his office.
“McGregor,”
Oh no.
He always calls me that when he’s about to give bad news or a lecture. Something tells me I’m in for a lecture after yesterday’s game.
I sit down in the chair opposite his desk, ready for whatever he throws at me.
“I think you need to change things up a bit, McGregor,” he says as he leans forward on his desk.
“Change what exactly, coach? I know yesterday’s game was terrible, but we’ve been playing well the past few weeks, hell, months—one bad game doesn’t define us,” I say, meaning every word.
I understand it’s his job to analyse every little mistake and mishap. It’s also partly my responsibility as captain. But sometimes, there’s no quick fix or clear answer for why a game went bad.
Sometimes, we have a shit day.
“I don’t know McGregor, but the team would benefit from socializing together outside the rink as well. Some fresh guys on the team haven’t found their place just yet, and I think we need to work on that.”
I think about what he just told me.
There are some newer players on our team this season, and I understand why they haven’t found their place yet. It can be challenging to manoeuvre into an established group of guys.
Sure, we sometimes go out to the bar for a few drinks, but none of the new guys ever seems to join.
I usually don’t go myself unless a certain blonde is there.
“I’ll think of something, coach, is that all?” I ask him as I start to stand up.
“One more thing, McGregor,” I sit back down as he continues.
“I need you to be on top of your game. Eating, training, resting, and doing everything needed for your performance to be at its best, you got me?” he asks, and I start feeling the irritation build, but I don’t let it show.
“Is there a problem with my performance, coach?” I ask him, trying to keep my tone neutral.
I was one of the few players who didn’t exactly suck on the ice yesterday. If he implies otherwise, we’re going to have a problem.
“Nothing wrong with your performance, you just seem more frustrated than usual, that’s all,” he says.
He has no idea just how frustrated I am.
I’m in serious need of some release between the sheets, but there will be nothing of that before I have the woman I want.
“Got it, coach, I’ll see you at the team meeting.” With that, I stand and leave his office.
I have about 20 minutes before our meeting, so I can swing by the PR department to see if I can catch Sarah.
Even though she is the main source of those frustrations, she’s also the one who will lift my sour mood. I walk down the hall, and when I get there, a man is standing opposite Sarah.
I pause, watching the exchange before making myself known.
Who is he?
Does she have a boyfriend?
The thought never really crossed my mind, since our connection has been powerful ever since our first meeting.
But I didn’t really take the time to ask her either. She wouldn’t keep up this thing between us if she had a boyfriend, would she?
Just as the thought comes to me, I feel relieved of my worries.
“Seth, seriously. What are you even doing here? You didn’t get the internship spots you wanted, now grow up and work harder instead of terrorizing me on my job.”
Seeing her stand up to this douchebag brings a smile to my lips.
She’s strong and sexy as she stands her ground, arms crossed and chin high. A lot as she does with me, actually, whenever I rile her up.
This is different, though.
Usually, she has desire in her eyes, but now all I sense is annoyance.
“I don’t even know why you and Jessica got your first choices; the selection committee must have had a stroke that day.” I step forward quickly.
“Is there a problem here?” I ask as I move next to Sarah, whose eyes widen, probably wondering how much I overheard from this jerk.
“Alexander McGregor! Wow, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m such a big fan,” Seth, the idiot, reaches out his hand, but I don’t move a muscle.
Hell no, I will not shake hands with a jerk who just spoke badly to Sarah.
“There is no pleasure on my end. Care to explain why you spoke so poorly to our brilliant intern, Sarah?”
Seth gulps, realizing I heard what he said to her, calling him out on his comments and making it clear that I know Sarah and how well she’s doing here.
“Oh, that, I was just joking, we’re friends from school, you see, we like to joke around.” I catch his desperate look as he casts it toward Sarah, pleading with his eyes that she doesn’t reveal his lie.
I’m no fool, though. There are no friendly feelings on her end, and from how he just spoke to her, the feeling seems mutual.
“Just leave, Seth, before I have security escort you out. I don’t want to see you here again,” she spits out, and he quickly scurries out the door.
I step in front of her, her eyes seething at the spot he just left.
I place my hands on her arms and rub them gently, drawing her eyes to mine and softening some of her anger.
“You okay there?” I ask, she breathes out before answering,
“Yeah, I’m fine. He’s just an idiot, not worth my time.” I feel my own pulse pounding as my curiosity takes over.
“An ex-boyfriend?” That brings a smirk to her lips.
“You jealous there, captain?” I don’t bother denying it; the sooner she realizes my intentions with her, the better.
“If he’s an ex, then hell yes, I’m jealous. He’s had someone I intend on making mine.” That shuts her up real quick.
I love it when I surprise her with bluntness.
“Well, he’s not an ex, just an asshole from my studies, so no need to be jealous!” she quips as she steps out of my embrace.
Sarah is always cute, but when I make her squirm like this, she’s freaking adorable.
All flustered, trying to create distance between us.
“Well, if he ever bothers you again, I’ll find him,” I say as I check my watch, seeing it’s almost time for the meeting.
“I have to go, angel. You make sure no other douchebags show up at the arena, even though you’ll handle them just fine.”
I gently squeeze her waist before taking off, feeling much lighter than before.
～
We’ve just gone over the tapes from yesterday, looking at our mistakes and where we could have done something differently.
Looking back, the game wasn’t just a case of a bad day.
Coach pulled up several examples of plain bad hockey.
I winced several times, watching it back.
Even though I wasn’t in the examples myself, it feels terrible seeing our team struggle like that.
Unclear passes, bad communication, overall bad flow.
Our meeting from this morning is fresh in my mind, and if I was sceptical before, I don’t have any doubts now.
Coach is right.
We need to do something different.
I need to do something different as captain.
When the meeting is nearing its end, I raise my hand to indicate that I would like to say something.
I haven’t exactly planned what to say, but I do need to take some responsibility and make it clear that I’m ready to lead this team forward and turn this around.
I make my way to the front of the room, and the tension is heavy.
Several of the guys are sunken into their chairs, their heads cast down, like they’re ashamed of themselves.
Christ.
This is bad.
I take the place beside the coach, and he gives me a nod.
“I think we all can agree that the game yesterday was bad, and that we are struggling to deliver as a team on the ice,” I begin, looking out in the room.
There’s no reason to sugar coat our struggles, but I don’t want to crush them even more.
Athletes are hard on themselves. We know when we fuck-up. And if you didn’t know, the movie demonstration we just saw pointed it out.
“We need to try a new approach, get back to our flow. As your captain, my door is always open if anyone needs to talk, except for you, Noah; you already take up too much of my time,” I say, causing a chuckle to spread throughout the room, cutting through some of the tension.
Noah shrugs his shoulders, knowing I’m just messing with him.
“On a serious note. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if there’s anything on your mind or if you have suggestions to turn this around. Because I know without a doubt that we will.”
When I’m done, we call it a day.
Hopefully, the guys will feel motivated going forward, and we’ll be able to start winning games again.
“Alexander, you got a minute?” Caleb asks me.
“Sure.”
He was one of the players who made some mistakes out on the ice, but this is a team sport, and everyone can have a bad day. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad player.
If you start going down that road, your confidence will drop, and so will your performance.
We sit down in the lounge area. I don’t want him to feel like I’m in a rush. I meant what I said, the door is always open, and I’m happy to talk to my players when they need.
“It might be too much to ask, but I was wondering if you could help me out with my tactical awareness. I’ve been struggling for a while, and it got to a new low yesterday,” he says, and I can tell this is hard for him.
Admitting you’re struggling feels scary, but I applaud him for asking for help.
“I think I could benefit from some extra pass practice, but I get that you’re a busy man, so you might not have time for that.”
Usually, our assisting coaches do this work. Helping us refine our technique, work out habits that slow you down, or any other inconsistencies.
I’m happy to help Caleb. He’s a great player, with lots of potential, and he’s a hard worker.
I’m determined to use my time wisely to make the team as strong as possible. Some additional practice with Caleb will be good.
“No problem, Caleb. We’ll start tomorrow. Do you mind if I ask Noah and Liam to tag along as well? Then we can get in some shooting practice as well.”
He lights up at the idea, the relief evident on his face.
“That would be great, thank you so much.”
We say our goodbyes, and when I spot an email from Sarah, my smile spreads.
She’s finally setting up a new meeting, and when I see that she hasn’t suggested a place to meet, I see my opening.
Typing out my response, eager for Friday to arrive as soon as possible.