Chapter 7
Jamie
I
don’t know what possessed me to stay and listen to her class. I don’t know why I talked to her about it afterward. I don’t know why I feel like I have to be close to her. I saw her in that kitchen, in the hallway in that robe, and it was like a wave came crashing down on me, pulling me under with the tide. I don’t even know who she is anymore, yet I feel like I need to. That pisses me off more than anything, because I know I need to focus all of my energy on healing and getting the hell out of here.
If I’m being honest with myself though, I think a big part of me knows that I’m never going to play professional hockey again. At least, my knee injury is most likely never going to heal enough for me to play like I used to. I’m probably better off here coaching than straining my knee by playing back-to-back games and practicing twenty-four seven.
I’m still doing physical therapy three times a week and having it checked weekly to make sure its healing properly. However, even with all that, I just have this aching feeling that my Storm days are over.
Practice is brutal.
These kids have talent, they’re just lazy and spoiled. They coast through drills like mommy and daddy are waiting on the sidelines with juice boxes and participation trophies.
“Hey, Coach?” one of the defensemen pipes up. “Are we gonna stay on conditioning all practice?”
“Yup,” I say curtly.
“That’s like… all we’ve done for an hour,” the guy that I now know as Jacob Rostolvic says as he comes to a stop in front of me, sweat pouring down his face.
“Good. Maybe you’ll finally grow some lungs.”
A groan ripples through the team.
“You think you’ll make it to the NHL whining like little babies? You want to compete? Earn it.”
They groan again, but they skate harder.
Eventually I grow tired of watching them skate back and forth and decide to end practice for the day.
When they finally file out of the locker room their legs are Jello and their egos are bruised. Good. They need it.
I drop into the chair behind my desk and roll up my compression pants to check my knee. Even under the brace, it’s swollen. It’ll be worse tomorrow.
I breathe through it, waiting for the pain to dull, but it never does.
By the time I make it back to the house, the sun’s dipping low and I’m starving. I don’t expect Ellie to be in the kitchen, sitting at the island with her nose in paperwork. She looks so focused, and when a piece of her blonde hair falls into her face, she quickly tucks it behind her ear.
She looks up the second she senses me, eyes narrowing like I’m a problem she doesn’t have the energy for.
“What?” she snaps, not even attempting politeness.
I grab a water from the fridge. “Nothing. You look busy.”
“Good observation.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Alright. She’s pissed. That’s fair.
I lean my hip against the counter. “You know, the attitude’s new.”
“No,” she bites, her head snapping in my direction. “What’s new is you being here.”
Her voice cracks a little, and it guts me. I know she must hate me, I know I didn’t think things through when I left. I don’t blame her for not wanting anything to do with me.
I step forward before I can think better of it. “Look, Ellie—”
“No.” She raises a hand, palm out. “You don’t get to stroll back into my life and pretend this is normal. We are not normal. This situation isn’t normal.”
A beat passes before I can get myself to reply, and when I finally do, all I can say is, “Okay.”
That seems to surprise her. Her eyes flick to mine, guarded but curious.
“Ellie, I’m not trying to pretend nothing happened,” I say quietly. “I know what I did. I know how I left. And I’m not asking you to be okay with it.”
She looks down at her papers, blinking rapidly like she’s refusing to let emotion win.
“Then what do you want?” she practically whispers.
The truth sits heavy on my tongue. Something I haven’t let myself think about in years, something I didn’t even know I wanted until I saw her standing there in the kitchen.
“Nothing,” I say instead. “We’re coworkers. Housemates. I won’t bother you.”
It feels like a punch straight to the gut saying it out loud. But maybe it’s what she needs. Maybe it’s what I need.
She swallows once, then nods tightly. It seems like there’s so much she wants to say, but she’s fighting with something inside herself.
“Good.” With that, she gathers her things and heads toward the stairs.
“Ellie?” I call after her before I can stop myself.
She pauses, just barely. I know everything in her is telling her to keep moving, but I also know she needs to hear what I’m about to say.
“I’m not trying to make your life harder.”
She doesn’t turn around. “You don’t have to try.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me in the kitchen with nothing but my throbbing knee and a growing ache in my chest that I don’t have a name for. I rub my brace like it’ll somehow fix the past too. No such luck.
Well, that could have gone better.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, distracting me from the self-deprecating thoughts swimming around in my head. Pulling it out, I see it’s my mom.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, trying to sound more upbeat than I feel.
“Hi, honey. I just wanted to check in to see how your first day as a coach went. You didn’t push the kids too hard, did you?”
I chuckle as I think back to the guys dripping in sweat, walking out of practice like they had sticks up their asses.
“It went well, mom.”
“How’s the knee? Are you settling in? Did you eat today? Remember what Dr. Larson said. Don’t push it,” she says hurriedly. Mom always worries. She’s been like that since I was a kid. I think it has to do with the fact that I’m an only child, so she feels extremely protective over me. It got worse after dad died. I know she’s lonely.
“The knee is the same, and I’m settling in fine.”
I hear her sigh of relief on the other end. “You know I worry about you, honey.”
“I know, mom. I’m okay, really. But I gotta go. I need to shower and stuff,” I say, hoping she’ll accept that, and she does.
An hour later, I’m showered and lying in bed answering a slew of text messages in the team group chat.
Rhode Island Stormies
Connor Grieves: That call was seriously fucked. The ref had it out for you, Calli.
Billy Callahan: I’m telling you, I’ve never been so personally victimized in my life. Felt intimate. Didn’t consent.
Theo Cramer: Maybe he was into you. You do have that “problematic but charming” energy.
Billy Callahan: Please. If he wanted me, he could’ve just bought me a drink instead of a penalty.
Connor Grieves: Honestly, the way he blew that whistle? Aggressive.
Wilder Ranslavic: A little too aggressive. Man really said ‘watch this’.
Billy Callahan: Meanwhile I get slammed into the boards and he just… looks away. Classic.
Connor Grieves: You were asking for it wearing those tight-ass pants.
Billy Callahan: These thighs are a public service.
Theo Cramer: I hate this team.
Connor Grieves: You love us. Especially when we’re sweaty and angry.
Theo Cramer: Don’t flatter yourselves. I’m only here for the adrenaline and unresolved tension.
Wilder Ranslavic: Same. And the post-game showers.
Connor Grieves: Wow. Straight to jail.
Theo Cramer: Says the guy who stripped his jersey off the second the buzzer hit.
Connor Grieves: It was hot. Physically. And emotionally.
Billy Calhahan: Refs screwed us, but at least we looked good losing.
Wilder Ranslavic: That’s the real win.
Connor Grieves: Hey Patty, you alive?
Billy Callahan: Yo, Patty. You would have shit yourself if you were there tonight.
Theo Cramer: I miss Patterson. He kept you idiots in check.
Wilder Ranslavic: Same.
Jamie Patterson: I leave for ten minutes and the team goes to shit.
Billy Callahan: We need you, daddy.
Jamie Patterson: You are seriously mentally ill.
God, I miss those guys. When I joined the team six years ago, I never thought I’d be this close to my teammates, but we really are like brothers. Callahan and I were drafted together, Theo and Wilder were on the team before I got there, and Connor is the rookie. We get along great on and off the ice. It’s better that way when you’re constantly travelling together.
The guys don’t know about Ellie or the life I had before coming to the Storm. It was never really a topic of conversation. All they know is that I never wanted to be tied down. Theo and Callahan are married men, and Wilder has a long-term girlfriend that he’s been with since high school. It’s only Connor and I that are the single ones, and Connor is probably going to fuck his way through his rookie year anyway.
When I went out on LTIR, I thought I’d be sitting at home alone wallowing in self-pity. I never expected to end up coaching.
The last thing I expected was Ellie. No, correction. The last thing I expected was living with Ellie.
How is it possible that I haven’t seen her in years, and the minute she’s in front of me again, I feel like I need her?
There’s gotta be some psychological word for that right? I mean, yeah. She looked like a goddess, and seeing the way she’s turned into this… this woman. This accomplished, beautiful woman. I’m actually proud of her.
She’s doing what she always wanted to do, and I know she worked her ass off to get here. Her perseverance always impressed me. It inspired me.
She never knew that, and she probably never will. But Ellie Monroe, she helped me keep going even when I wanted to quit. She thought I was training so hard to keep my mind off my dad, but I was only trying to be more like her.
And then I left her.
What a fucking idiot.