Grant
FORTY-NINE
NOVEMBER, TWO SEASONS AGO
“Catch me up on your life, Han.” I set my beer on the coffee table and face my sister. “What’s it like being a figure skating coach?”
“It’s better than I thought it would be,” she admits. “I’m having a lot of fun.”
Last month, Coach Saunders let us know his daughter, Olivia, needed a new figure skating mentor after hers went on maternity leave. From the guy who never shows any emotion besides annoyance, it was obvious he was panicked about finding a solution to make his daughter happy.
Hannah has been in a funk mentally and took a step back from skating professionally, and I gave her number to Coach in hopes they’d work out an arrangement that would benefit both of them.
I think it’s working. She’s been coaching Olivia for a couple of weeks, and my sister seems happier in the leadership role than when she was competing.
She’s laughing and opening up about her feelings.
She’s talking to a therapist who has experience working with athletes suffering from burnout, and I’m glad to see her smiling more.
Being a professional athlete can be a real mindfuck.
With grueling practices and spending thousands of hours perfecting your craft, how more of us don’t break down and take a step away from our sport is a mystery.
Hannah is finding a balance of the things she loves while prioritizing her mental health, and that’s a good thing.
“Does Saunders watch your practices?” I ask, and she chokes on her sip of spiked lemonade.
“No. He doesn’t hang around.” Hannah dabs her mouth with a napkin. “It’s going well with Olivia. She’s eager to learn, and she reminds me of myself when I was that age. I’m also trying to fall back in love with skating.”
“How are you doing that?”
“I’m working with Coach Saunders,” she says, and I frown.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m coaching Olivia, but he’s coaching me. He’s taking me back to fundamentals and the early days of learning the sport, and it’s a relief not to be pressured to perform a certain jump or spin perfectly.”
“You’re one of the best skaters in the world and you’re asking a hockey coach for his thoughts on your technique?” I laugh. “Coach wouldn’t know a triple Axel from a Salchow.”
“But you do. I’m proud of you for knowing the correct names.
” She beams. “And he’s not critiquing my technique like a judge would.
Take away the goals and the tricks, and hockey and figure skating are almost the same.
Why does Liam spend his summers working with a figure skating coach?
Because it makes him a better hockey player.
I’m doing the reverse, and the drills Br—Coach Saunders—makes me run are basic as hell.
But I’m having fun.” Hannah sighs. “I don’t know the last time I had fun while skating. ”
“Shit. I’m sorry for not understanding the idea, Han. I’m glad Coach is helping you look at the sport with a fresh set of eyes.” I grab my beer and take a sip. “At the end of the day, you deserve to be happy.”
A flash of hesitation crosses her face, but she replaces it with a smile she tosses my way.
“Is working with Saunders going to solve all my problems? Probably not,” she says. “I’m enjoying it for what it is and trusting the process. Maybe it will help me make a comeback.”
“What is Coach like when he’s not kicking our asses? Does the man actually smile? There’s a rumor that he’s a robot. Do you have to plug him in to recharge him?”
“He kicks your asses because he wants y’all to win. And he does smile, which means he must like me more than he likes you hockey boys. Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not the favorite Everett anymore.”
“It was fun while it lasted. I have to tell the guys the bad news.”
I swipe my phone off the table to pull up my text thread with the boys, but there’s a message from Amelia on my screen that I must have missed.
AG
Which is better? Cinnamon rolls or doughnuts?
I smile and type out an answer to her question.
Me
I wouldn’t really consider them the same thing, to be honest?
Cinnamon rolls are a commitment. They’re messy and heavy and sticky. Doughnuts are easy to eat on the go.
If I had to pick between the two, I’d probably say doughnuts. But if it’s a lazy weekend morning, I’ll take cinnamon rolls.
What about you?
AG
I’m team cinnamon roll. If I’m going to eat something sweet, I want it to be worth it. Cinnamon rolls are definitely worth it.
Me
Speaking of sweet, have you made any cakes recently?
AG
*Attachment: 1 image*
Enjoy my middle finger, Everett.
I chuckle and save the photo. I dig in my pocket and pull out my notebook, adding to a random page.
Prefers cinnamon rolls over doughnuts
“What are you doing?” Hannah asks, and I jump a foot in the air.
“Holy shit.” I slam the notebook closed and shove it under a pillow. “I forgot you were here.”
“It’s been two minutes.” She leans forward and looks at my phone. “Who is AG?”
“A rookie,” I lie, clicking my phone closed and hiding it next to my notebook. “Coach asked me to get to know him. Bonding. Camaraderie.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re so lying! Your cheeks are red and you’re tapping your foot like you always do when you’re nervous!” Hannah gasps. “Oh my god. You’re having an affair with someone.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m not having an affair. It was a casual conversation with a friend. A teammate,” I sputter. “That’s it.”
“Then why were you so quick to put your phone away?” she asks.
“Habit, I guess. The guys look over my shoulder in the locker room, and there’s no privacy.”
“You can tell me, Grant.”
I open and close my mouth, not knowing what to say. I could tell Hannah, but back at girls’ night, my friends said Amelia wasn’t interested in me. Why get my sister’s hopes up about something that will never happen?
“I swear it was just the rookie,” I say.
“I still think you’re lying, but fine. Keep your secrets.
One day when you want to know what I’m hiding I’m not going to tell you.
” She sticks out her tongue and finishes her drink.
“I should get going. Liv and I are meeting for practice early tomorrow morning, and I want to watch some old junior skating clips so I can get a better feel of what her routine should look like.”
“Hey.” I ruffle Hannah’s hair. “If you ever need me, I’m here. To listen, to vent, to skate with. I know you’ve been having a tough time, but you’re strong, Han. And you don’t need to make it to the Olympics to make me proud.”
“Thanks, Grant.” Her face softens. “Everyone knows me as Hannah Everett, the world champion figure skater. I’ve been struggling to understand if just being Hannah Everett is enough, and having time away from the ice is making me realize it is enough.
I’m enough, and any medal I might when is a nice bonus. ”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sis. I see you as Hannah Everett, the baby sister who forced me to wear her figure skating dresses.” I yelp when she hits me in the face with a pillow. “Don’t break my nose!”
“I didn’t force you to do anything! I came home from practice and found you in one of my dresses. You wanted your own outfit.” Hannah giggles when I wrangle the pillow from her grasp and hit her head. She slips free and pops to her feet, backing away. “You’re not fast enough, hockey bro.”
“Love you, not your lies,” I call out, smirking when she flips me off over her shoulder. “But for real. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of me too.” She smiles and slips on her jacket, offering me a wave. “Dinner later this week?”
“Text me whenever. I’m free after Wednesday.”
“Tell AG I say hi,” she sings, slamming the door to my apartment before I have the chance to answer.
I grab our empty drinks, putting them in the trash. I toss the pizza box and wipe down the kitchen counters before heading to my bedroom. After a quick shower, I climb in bed and swipe back over to my messages with Amelia.
Me
Are you free for a quick call?
I don’t have to wait long before my phone is ringing with a FaceTime call. I lean against the headboard with an arm behind my head, answering right away.
“Hey,” I say.
“Are you wearing a face mask?” Amelia asks, and I touch my cheek.
“Yup. Gotta keep the skin moisturized now that we’re back to spending time on airplanes.”
“And is that a beard?”
“I love a FaceTime interrogation. I am growing a beard. It’s to raise awareness for men’s mental health this month, but don’t worry. It’s still me under here.”
“For a second I thought you were an imposter.” She props her phone up, leaning back in her chair. “How’s your night?”
“Hannah came over for pizza, and it was nice to catch up with her. She’s been in a tough spot mentally with skating, but now she’s coaching Coach Saunders’s daughter, and I think she’s better. Talking with her made me want to check on you.”
“What do you mean?” Amelia rests her elbow on her desk, and she must be in her home office. There are framed jerseys behind her and a couple of photos on the wall. “I’m fine.”
“The season is young, but your job can’t be easy. You’re in charge of your players’ well-being, but who asks how you’re doing? If there’s anything you need?”
There’s a long pause where Amelia blinks at the camera. She dips her chin and tucks a piece of hair behind her ears. When she lifts her gaze, she bites her bottom lip.
“This is a first for me,” she says, voice soft and low. “I mean, Lainey and Sienna always check in. They know if I’m having a bad day and would drop everything if I asked for help. But I’ve never had someone from my professional life ask how I am.”
“Hannah went a long time without letting me know she was suffering from burnout. Maybe if I had checked in more, I could’ve been more help.” I sigh. “Anyway. Don’t feel pressured to answer. I just wanted you to know there are people who care about you.”
“Today I’m good. We leave for Toronto tomorrow, and then we head over to Los Angeles. I’m feeling confident to start the season.” Amelia pulls her leg to her chest. “I’m also feeling restless.”
“Restless how?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not unhappiness—I’m more than satisfied with my salary, my role in Denver, and my relationship with Jude and the players on our roster.
When I sit in the silence, I swear there’s a whisper in the back of my mind.
A voice telling me I need to take a leap. It sounds completely absurd, but I—”
“It’s not absurd. It sounds like your subconscious is too comfortable with where you are right now. It’s ready for more of a challenge. For something new.” I turn on my side and rest my phone against the stack of pillows. “And I think you know what comes next.”
“Being a head coach,” she whispers, and I nod. “I’ve been mulling it over. Weighing the pros and cons. Trying to decide if I’m ready for that step.”
“You’re the only one who can know for sure, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re ready, Lia. I’m not saying that as your friend. I’m saying it as someone who understands the sport and recognizes what you bring to the table.”
“What if I’m dreaming too big?”
“That’s the best part about dreams: If they don’t come true, you get to try again tomorrow. But you’re not dreaming too big.”
“This offseason.” Her voice melts to a wisp of excitement. The husk of determination. Her eyes sparkle, and she sits up. “If I’m still restless in the offseason, I’ll know it’s time to apply to an open position and try.”
“There she is,” I say. “Coach Green, the confident badass.”
“I didn’t know this was the turn our conversation was going to take when I answered your call, but I’m glad it did. You’ve always believed in me, haven’t you?”
“Always. And I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going to stop anytime soon.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.” Amelia smiles, and I can feel it through the screen.
Warm, bright. I miss her so fucking much.
“Thanks for checking on me. I’m sure there are a dozen people ahead of me on the list, but if you ever need anything or just want to talk, I always want to know how you’re doing. ”
“You’d be at the top of the list.” I grin. “I appreciate that, Lia. Are you having a good night in Colorado?”
“It’s better now.”
“Glad to hear it.” I yawn. “I should try to get some sleep. We have an early flight in the morning, and I don’t need Coach on my ass about being late.”
“Brody Saunders is terrifying.” She smiles again, and I’m pretty sure I could stare at her forever. “Night, Grant. I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m counting down the minutes like always, Lia.”
We hang up, and I plug my phone in the charger. My head hits the pillows, and I fall asleep dreaming about Amelia making it to the Hockey Hall of Fame.