Chapter 15
NILS
The arena was pulsing with the kind of energy that only came from a big win against a conference rival.
We’d beaten Syracuse four to one, and Adan had been absolutely spectacular with two goals and two assists.
And more importantly, every technique we’d been practicing in our one-on-one coaching sessions had shown up in game conditions.
The game had been a masterclass in everything we’d been working on. From the opening face-off, Adan had played with the confidence and precision that had been missing during our week of forced distance.
His first goal had come in the opening period, a perfect example of the corner positioning we’d drilled endlessly.
Instead of trying to power through the defenseman like he would have done months ago, he’d used the angle to create space, made the d-man commit, then slipped a quick pass to himself off the back boards before burying the shot in the top corner.
Textbook execution of technique that had taken weeks to refine.
The second goal was even better; a display of the hockey intelligence that separated good players from great ones.
He’d read the play developing before anyone else on the ice, anticipating where the puck would be instead of chasing where it was.
When the opportunity came, he was already in perfect position to redirect a pass from Martinez past a sprawling goalie.
But it was the goals he didn’t take that impressed me most. Three separate occasions where the old Adan would have forced a shot, and instead, he’d made the smart play of passing to a teammate in better position, creating scoring chances for others instead of padding his own statistics.
Between the technical improvements and the tactical awareness, Adan was playing the most complete hockey I’d ever seen from him.
Every correction we’d made, every adjustment we’d worked on, every moment of hands-on instruction was showing up in game conditions.
Of course the skates made a small difference too, but most of it was him.
This was what we could accomplish when we worked together properly. This was why I couldn’t retreat again, no matter how complicated things became between us personally.
I stood near the tunnel watching the celebration on the ice, trying to process the mixture of pride and relief flooding my system.
After the disaster of the previous week, when my guilt and fear had nearly destroyed both our professional relationship and Adan’s performance, seeing him play like this felt like vindication.
We’d found our rhythm again. The hands-on coaching, the technical corrections, and the comfortable dynamic that had been developing before everything had gotten complicated were all back, and the results spoke for themselves.
“Hell of a performance.”
I turned to find a man in his fifties approaching, wearing a suit that screamed professional scout. He had the weathered look of someone who’d spent decades around hockey rinks, evaluating talent and projecting futures.
“Joe McLaughlin,” he said, extending his hand. “Detroit Red Wings.”
My heart rate spiked immediately. Scouts didn’t show up at Division I games unless they were seriously interested in someone.
“Nils Anders,” I replied, shaking his hand. “Assistant coach.”
“You’re Rivera’s individual coach, right? The one working with him on technical development?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Thought so. I’ve been watching game footage from earlier this season, and the improvement in his positioning and decision-making has been remarkable. That’s not the kind of development that happens by accident.”
Pride swelled in my chest, but I tried to keep my voice professional. “Adan’s been very receptive to instruction. He has excellent hockey intelligence and strong work ethic.”
“That much is obvious. Is he available to talk? I’d like to have a conversation with him about his development path.”
“I’ll get him.”
I made my way toward the ice where Adan was finishing up interviews with local media. When I caught his eye, I nodded toward the tunnel, and he wrapped up his conversation and skated over.
“There’s someone who wants to meet you,” I said quietly. “A scout from the Detroit Red Wings.”
Adan’s eyes went wide, but he managed to keep his expression composed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. He specifically mentioned your improvement this season.”
“Fuck. Okay. Do I—Should I change first?”
“You’re fine as you are.”
“Will you come with me?”
“Of course.”
We walked back to where McLaughlin was waiting, and I made the introductions. Adan’s posture was confident but respectful, exactly the kind of first impression that mattered in these situations.
“Hell of a game tonight,” McLaughlin said. “That goal in the second period, with you using the defenseman as a screen while creating space for the shot, that’s NHL-level hockey sense.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ve been working on reading the ice better, seeing plays develop before they happen.”
“It shows. Your positioning in the corners has improved dramatically from last season’s footage. Someone’s been doing good work with you.”
Adan tipped his head in my direction. “Coach Anders has been incredible. He’s taught me to think about the game differently.”
“Specifically, what kinds of things have you been working on?” McLaughlin asked me, pulling out a small notebook.
I stepped forward slightly. “Adan came to us with excellent natural talent, but we’ve focused on refining his tactical awareness. Corner positioning, shot selection, defensive responsibility when he doesn’t have the puck.”
“The two-way game…” McLaughlin nodded. “That’s what separates the boys from the men. Tell me, Rivera, how do you feel about your defensive development?”
“Still learning,” Adan said honestly. “But I understand that I can’t focus on scoring myself. I need to be someone who makes the whole team better.”
“Good answer. And accurate, based on what I saw tonight.” McLaughlin made a note in his book. “What’s your timeline looking like? You’re a junior, correct?”
“Yes, sir. This is my third year.”
“So potentially a year and a half more of development, or earlier entry if the opportunity arises.”
I could see Adan trying to contain his excitement, trying to process the implications of what McLaughlin was saying. The idea that he might not need to finish college, that his NHL dream might be closer than he’d imagined. “Yes, sir.”
McLaughlin’s eyes drilled into Adan’s. “You didn’t make the draft. Were you upset?”
Adan hesitated only for a moment. “Yeah, I was. Anyone would’ve been, I think. But I can see why I wasn’t drafted. I wasn’t ready yet.”
“Are you ready now?”
This time, Adan paused longer, but when he spoke, his voice was strong and steady. “No, sir, but by the end of this season, I will be.”
Damn, what an answer. I was in awe of his confidence, which somehow came across as so honest, as more of a promise than anything else.
McLaughlin smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“What would you like to see from him going forward?” I asked. “What areas should we prioritize in his continued development?”
McLaughlin considered this. “The foundation is excellent. I’d like to see continued improvement in face-off percentage.
You’re at about sixty percent now, which is solid, but elite centers need to be in the seventy-plus range.
Penalty kill awareness could use work. And consistency.
I want to see this level of performance game after game, not just flashes of it. ”
“Those are all areas we can target,” I said, already mentally planning training modifications.
“Good. Adan, you should know that you’re on our radar now. We’ll be watching your progress closely, and I’ll be back to see more games this season.”
“Thank you,” Adan managed, his voice slightly rough with emotion. “I won’t let you down.”
“I don’t think you will. Keep working with Coach Anders here. Whatever you two are doing, it’s working.” McLaughlin shook both our hands again. “I’ll be in touch. Oh, and Adan?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to get an agent.”
An agent. Holy shit. “Yes, sir.”
After he left, Adan and I stood in the tunnel for a moment, both processing what had happened. The noise from the locker-room celebration felt distant, less important than the conversation we’d finished.
“A scout,” Adan said quietly. “Detroit fucking Red Wings.”
“I know.”
“Did that really happen? Did he really say I’m on their radar?”
“He did. And he meant it. Scouts don’t waste time on courtesy visits.”
Adan leaned back against the wall, running his hands through his sweat-damp hair. “My parents are going to lose their minds. All those years of extra shifts and sacrificed vacations and hoping I’d get a shot…”
“You’ve earned this, Adan. Every bit of it.”
“We’ve earned it. You heard what he said… The improvement he’s noticed is because of your coaching.”
“Your improvement is because of your work ethic and talent. I merely helped guide the process.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t minimize what you’ve done for me.” He turned to face me directly. “Six months ago, I was just another college scorer whose future in hockey was debatable. Now I’m being scouted by an NHL team. That’s because of you.”
The emotion in his voice was overwhelming—gratitude and hope and something that looked like the beginning of tears.
“And I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to help you make it to the NHL. Whatever training you need, whatever development McLaughlin wants to see, whatever it takes to get you signed—we’ll make it happen. And we’ll help you find an agent who will negotiate the best deal for you.”
“You mean that?”
“I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”
The intensity of my own commitment surprised me. Somewhere along the way, Adan’s success had become more important to me than my own comfort, my own safety, my own carefully maintained boundaries. His dream of playing professional hockey had become my mission.
“Thank you,” he said, and before I could react, he stepped forward and kissed me.
It was different from the desperate kisses in his apartment. This was softer, more emotional, born from gratitude and the overwhelming feelings of the moment. And I forgot all about where we were, who might see us, what the consequences might be and I kissed him back.
“—incredible performance tonight. Rivera was absolutely dominant.”
Coach Brennan’s voice echoed down the tunnel, getting closer, and we broke apart instantly. I took a quick step back, trying to look professional, while Adan turned toward his equipment bag like he’d been organizing his gear.
“There you are,” Coach Brennan said, appearing around the corner with Kevin O’Brien. “I was looking for you both. Fantastic game, Rivera. And nice work, Coach Anders. Whatever you two have been doing in individual sessions, keep it up.”
“Thank you, Coach,” Adan managed, his voice only slightly strained.
“The improvement in his positioning has been remarkable,” I added, hoping I sounded normal. “He’s really bought into the tactical side of development.”
“It shows. I briefly spoke with McLaughlin and he seemed impressed.”
“He was very complimentary,” I confirmed. “Mentioned specific areas for continued focus.”
“Good. That’s exactly what we want to hear.” Coach Brennan clapped Adan on the shoulder. “Enjoy tonight, son. You’ve earned it. But don’t let it go to your head. You’re not there yet.”
“Yes, sir.”
After Coach Brennan and Kevin headed toward the locker room, Adan and I stood in awkward silence. The celebration, the scout meeting, the kiss all felt surreal, like we’d packed a month’s worth of significant moments into a single evening.
“That was close,” I said quietly.
“Too close.”
“If he’d been thirty seconds earlier…”
“I know.”
The reality of what had almost happened was starting to sink in. Coach Brennan discovering us kissing in the tunnel after a game, with NHL scouts in the building and media still around, would’ve been catastrophic for both our careers.
“This is getting dangerous,” I said.
“I know that too.”
“We can’t keep taking risks like this. Not when there’s so much at stake for your future.”
Adan was quiet for a long moment, and I could see him struggling with the same conflict I was feeling. The growing connection between us versus the very real consequences of being discovered.
“So what do we do?” he asked finally.
“I don’t know.”
“Because I can’t go back to you avoiding me. Not now, not when we’re this close to something real.”
I swallowed. Was that the only reason: because it affected how he played?
“Nils,” he said softly, and I looked up to meet his eyes. “I missed you. As a coach and as a friend.”
A friend. It was as good a label as anything else, I supposed. “I’m not going to avoid you. Your performance and McLaughlin’s feedback prove that we can make this work professionally.”
“And personally?”
“Personally…” I ran my hands through my hair, trying to find words for the impossible situation we’d created. “Personally, we have to be more careful. Much more careful.”
“But not absent.”
“No. Not absent.”
It wasn’t much of a solution, but it was the best I could offer. We’d proven tonight that our coaching relationship was working, that Adan’s development was accelerating, that his NHL dreams were within reach. I couldn’t abandon him when he was so close to achieving everything he’d worked for.
But I also couldn’t ignore the very real danger we’d exposed ourselves to. The moment when discovery had been a matter of seconds, when everything we’d both worked for could have been destroyed by one careless moment.
“We’ll figure it out,” Adan said, echoing his words from the other night.
“We have to.”
“But for now, we celebrate. I’m going to call my parents and tell them about the scout.”
“They’ll be proud.”
“They’ll be over the moon.” He grinned, and for a moment, he looked exactly like what he was; a twenty-year-old kid whose wildest dreams were starting to come true. “And I’m going to thank them for every sacrifice they made to get me here.”
“They’ll appreciate that.”
“I’ll see you Monday for training?”
“Monday at seven. We have work to do if we want to impress McLaughlin when he comes back.”
“We’ll be ready.”
As Adan headed toward the locker room to join his teammates’ celebration, I remained in the tunnel. I blew out a deep breath, willing my shoulders to relax. The game, the scout, the kiss, the near-discovery… All of it felt like a preview of the complications to come.
But as I thought about McLaughlin’s words, about Adan’s performance, about the genuine possibility that we might help him achieve his NHL dreams, I knew I couldn’t walk away. The risk was real, the danger was increasing, but the potential reward—for him, not for me—was too important to abandon.
I would find a way to make this work. I had to.
Even if it meant risking everything I’d built for myself in the process.