Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
I’m in my classroom before school starts the next morning when I finally call Victor back.
“Hey,” he answers briskly, followed by a loud exhale like he’s out of breath.
“Are you on the bike?”
“Just finished.” His words come a little slower. “Where were you last night? I tried to call from the plane a couple times.”
“Yeah, I saw I missed your calls. Sorry about the game.”
He grunts. Houston lost to Seattle last night. It’s their third loss in a row.
“Wally might as well not be in the net for all the pucks he’s letting past him lately,” Victor says, voice full of annoyance.
Maxwell Wallace, aka Wally, is Houston’s goalie. And he is struggling, but that’s not the team’s only problem. All the forwards, including my brother, are in a scoring slump. And the talks of trades and more coaching changes can’t be helping the morale.
“How’s everything else? How’s Bella?” I ask, pacing the room with a nervous energy. I know Victor doesn’t know about Conrad, and it’s technically none of his business, but I still feel guilty.
“Same. Good.”
“I miss her.” Victor’s dog is the cutest light gray Italian greyhound. I dog sat for her all the time while he traveled. In fact, I probably spent more time with his dog than I did my brother when I lived in Houston.
“You could come visit or just move back,” he says.
I roll my eyes, and a small laugh escapes.
Victor’s voice softens just a tad. “Had to try.”
“Have you found a new assistant yet?” I ask. I sent his agent my thoughts on all the applicants but never heard if they made an offer.
He sighs. “Yeah.”
“Really? Which one?”
“None that you vetted. This one was a referral from a teammate.”
And?” I prompt him for more information.
“She’s . . . okay, I guess.”
“Wow.” I grin. “That almost sounds like an endorsement compared to what you’ve said about the last three.”
“She bought the wrong kind of milk, she color-coded my calendar, and I hate the smell of the new laundry detergent.”
I bite down on my lower lip to keep from laughing again. My brother is not an easy man to work for. If that’s all the faults he can find with her, she must be good.
“Whatever. She’ll do until you come back.”
I hold back a sigh. “Victor, I’m not coming back.”
“Never?” He has the audacity to still sound surprised by this.
“Not as your assistant. I like teaching and coaching.” And I like Moonshot too, but I know he’ll never understand that.
He grunts an irritated sound that’s filled with disbelief.
“I do. The kids are great, and I feel like I have purpose for the first time in . . . forever, maybe.”
Victor is quiet. I hate disappointing him. He gave me a job when I couldn’t find one and . . . he’s my brother.
“I miss you, but I need more to do than running your errands,” I say quietly.
Outside in the hallway, students are starting to roam the halls before first period. Victor still hasn’t responded.
“You could come visit,” I say, knowing it’s a long shot. “Don’t you have a break coming up?”
“I’ve already come to see you there once, last fall. Besides, Dad’s been asking when you’re going to visit. And I don’t want to leave Bella any more than I already am with my game schedule.”
What my brother won’t say is that he misses me, but I know he does. If only because I did everything he wanted exactly the way he wanted.
“Maybe I could fly in for your game against Dallas.” It’s a Saturday afternoon game, and school is closed the following Monday, so I’ll have a long weekend.
“I’ll have Alexis make the flight arrangements for you.”
“Alexis?”
“The new assistant. Assuming she makes it another week.”
“I can book my own travel.”
“Then what the hell am I paying her for?” He grunts again. Poor Alexis. I can’t wait to meet her.
After school, the JV team steps onto the ice, looking defeated. All week the energy has been low. We have a week until our next game, and these boys are going to need every minute of it to prepare.
Grady steps up beside me and yells out to them, “You’ve got five minutes to get warm, gentlemen, then we’re going to do some three on two.”
“I thought we were focusing on skating and puck handling this week?” I ask him, quiet enough that the boys can’t hear.
Our plan for the week was to back off and do some basics.
A little reset before the hard push. At the beginning of every week, Grady and I discuss the plan for practices, keeping in mind games and recovery time.
Things change, of course, but usually with reason.
“Yeah, I was rethinking things. We’ve been too easy on them. Especially with JV. I think we double down on our game-time drills, cut everything else. It’s time to sink or swim.”
“Sounds like hockey boot camp,” I say only half joking.
“Exactly. No more fun and games until they start winning.”
I let out a small laugh, but Grady maintains his serious demeanor.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “It feels like the boys need a morale boost more than anything.”
“This game is hard work. If they aren’t willing to put in the effort and work through their mental blocks, then it’s better they quit now.”
I nod my understanding. I hope he’s right. They’ve gone three games without a win, and I know the toll that can take on their confidence.
By the time Grady’s boot camp–style practice is over, even I’m feeling defeated. The boys look more miserable than ever, and they made so many mistakes, you’d think we were in week one practices.
“See you tomorrow,” I say to Grady on my way out. The boys are long gone, and we’ve locked away all the equipment.
He nods and runs his hand over his jaw absently as he stares straight ahead from where he sits behind his desk. “Yeah, you too. Have a good night.”
I haven’t known Grady all that long, but I know he feels a lot of pressure to win. The JV team in a slump has him in a funk too.
Our styles of coaching are different, but we both want what’s best for the boys and the team.
I don’t think the issue is as simple as the boys needing to work harder at practice.
They have to put in the work, of course, but they also need inspiration.
They need to remember why they love this game.
Or maybe that’s just what I’d want. Then again, there’s a reason I never became the same kind of player as my brother.
And Grady has a lot more experience than I do.
As I push out into the evening night, I breathe in the cool air. I left my jacket in my classroom, so I hurry toward my SUV.
I’m almost to my vehicle when I notice the black truck parked next to it.
My steps slow as I take in the man leaning against the side with one jean-clad leg crossed over the other.
He’s wearing a white baseball cap and a Moonshot Hockey jacket.
His head is down like he’s trying not to be noticed, but even without flashing his face, there’s something about Conrad Shepard that demands attention.
A goofy smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t wait to see you again, and I was hoping I could convince you to hang out tonight.
” Under the brim of his hat, his blue eyes sparkle with hope and his cheeks are splotched with red.
He isn’t always as nervous talking to me now, but moments like this I can tell he’s still worried I might turn him down. As if.
“What’d you have in mind, Charming?”