15. Colton
COLTON
Thursday practice ran long.
That was on me. I’d mapped out a two-hour session and somewhere around the ninety minute mark Jett had done something with the puck that I hadn’t seen coming and I’d stopped everything to run it back three times, because you didn’t ignore something like that when it happened by accident.
You found out if the kid knew what he’d done or if he’d just gotten lucky.
He’d gotten lucky. But he was coachable enough to understand why it worked once I showed him, and that was worth the extra thirty minutes.
The guys were dragging by the time I let them off the ice. Good. That was the point.
I was reviewing film in my office at twelve-thirty when Dave called.
“How’s Vegas?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Fine like actually fine or fine like you’re white-knuckling it and don’t want to talk about it.”
I turned my pen over in my hand. “Team’s better than the record says. Defenseman named Frank has instincts nobody’s developed. Jett’s going to be a problem in the best possible way once he stops performing and starts playing.”
“That’s coach talk,” Dave said. “I asked about Vegas.”
“I know what you asked.”
A pause. “You drinking?”
“No.”
“Good.” Another pause. “Anyone interesting?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Colton.”
“I’m handling it.”
“That’s not a no.”
“It’s not a yes either. Drop it Dave.”
He dropped it. Fifteen years and Dave had gotten very good at knowing when to let something go.
We went through the contract stuff, the lease, two sponsorship approvals that needed my signature, a media request from a sports outlet in New York that I declined without thinking about it, and by the time we hung up it was almost two.
I went back to the film.
Thirty minutes later there was a knock on my door frame.
Rhett. Arms folded, shoulder against the frame, the particular expression he got when he was going to say something and had already decided he was going to say it regardless of how I responded.
“What,” I said.
“Nothing.” He didn’t move. “Just checking in.”
“You don’t check in.”
“First time for everything.” He looked around my office. At the film paused on my laptop, the clipboard on the desk, the coffee I’d let go cold three hours ago. “You eat today?”
“I had the break room lunch.”
Something moved across his face. He pressed his lips together in a way that told me he knew something about the break room lunch that I didn’t know he knew.
“What,” I said again.
“Nothing.” He pushed off the frame. “Frank looked good today.”
“He’s got good instincts.”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “He does.” Then, like it was an afterthought: “She noticed that, you know. The Frank thing. Wednesday.”
I looked at him.
He looked back with that face of his that said a lot more than whatever words he was using. “Bry. She was in the stands.” A beat. “She’s got a good eye. Her dad did too.”
I turned my pen over again. “Is there something you want to say, Rhett?”
He thought about it for a second. “No,” he said. “I think you’ve got it figured out.” He pushed off the frame. “Don’t let that coffee sit any longer, Coach. It’s embarrassing.”
He left.
I poured the cold coffee out. Made a fresh cup.
Thought about what he’d said. Not the words, the thing underneath the words, which was that Rhett Calloway had been checking in on Victoria Caldwell every single morning for what I was starting to understand was a very long time, and he did it because Brynn asked him to, and he did it without being asked twice, which told me everything I needed to know about what kind of person she was and what kind of loyalty she inspired in people who paid attention.
I went back to the film.
Friday I had Frank on the ice at eleven like I’d promised. Forty minutes, same as Wednesday. He was getting it. Another week and it would be muscle memory.
I came off the ice at twelve and headed down the hallway.
Her office door was half open. I could hear the red pen moving before I got there. I stood in the hallway for exactly one second and then turned around and walked back the way I came.
Stay away, I told myself. Don't fucking do it.
I lasted about thirty seconds before I turned around again.
She looked up when I appeared in the doorway. Pushed her glasses up. "Hey Coach."
"Do I need to start checking that you aren't working too hard?"
"I'm almost finished up," she said with a sigh. "I've got a shift later at The Hideout."
"Working here and then a shift at The Hideout is just proving my point."
She let out a genuine laugh and I smiled before I could stop myself.
The telltale sound of heels clicked down the hallway and Victoria appeared behind me. She cleared her throat as her eyes moved between us.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked.
"No, Mom," Brynn said. "Just finishing up before I head out."
Victoria nodded. "We have a meeting shortly, don't we Colton?"
I cleared my throat. "Yup. Let me just grab my things."
I stepped back to let Victoria pass.
Staying away wasn’t happening.