Chapter 32 Brendan
THIRTY-TWO
Brendan
“Marco, you with us?” Jakowski asks me in the locker room.
I’ve been staring at my clipboard for the last few minutes, replaying the conversation from last night with Scarlett. It’s all I can think about since we arrived in San Diego.
“Yeah. Sorry.” I shake my head, trying to focus. “Just running through the opponent’s defense strategy.”
He narrows his eyes before heading out the door.
Everyone’s feeling the pressure of tonight’s game, which will determine whether we make the playoffs. If we don’t win, this could be the end of my short run as assistant coach.
But my last name is Marco, and failure isn’t in my vocabulary.
“Hey.” Rourke elbows me as he pulls on his jersey. “You okay, Coach?”
“Just tired.” I sink onto the bench next to where he’s changing.
“I bet. Janie and I ducked out of the reception early to relieve the babysitter, and I’m still exhausted.” He sits down to lace up his skates. “How much sleep did you get?”
“Not much. I slept on a hospital couch.”
“I heard the news. How’s her dad?”
“He’s doing better now. They think he’ll make a full recovery.”
Rourke studies me. “Then why don’t you seem happier? Wedding’s behind you, her dad’s stable. Now you guys can ride off into the sunset, right?”
“I wish.” I drop the clipboard on the bench.
Brax stops mid-stretch. “What happened? You two looked insanely happy at the wedding. Couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”
“Guys, this isn’t the time.” I stand up, trying to redirect them back to their jobs. “We’ve got a game to focus on.”
“It might not be the best time,” Jaxon says, walking over to us. “But if you don’t tell us what’s going on, your mind’s going to be on her today instead of on the ice. And we all know Jakowski’s looking for any excuse to make you look bad.”
“He’s got a point,” Miles adds.
They’re all waiting on me to come clean, the six friends who’ve stuck by me through everything. Sure, sometimes I have to yell at them when they get too cocky, but that’s all part of the relationship.
“Fine.” I sit down. “My uncle found out about our arrangement, and now he thinks Scarlett’s using me to get the vendor contract.”
Tate huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “That doesn’t sound like Scarlett at all. Just tell him that.”
“It’s not that simple.” I run a hand through my hair. “She’s afraid that if it gets out, it will change everyone’s perception of her.”
“Then you need to talk to your uncle first,” Rourke demands. “You’ve been waiting years for this girl. He needs to know that.”
“I know what he’s going to say.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees.
“That I should be focused on my career. And that if I do settle down, it needs to be with someone who fits the image he’s been building for me.
Someone who makes the organization look good.
” I shake my head. “He’s wrong about Scarlett.
He doesn’t know her.” I drag my hands down my face.
“But the timing with Jakowski breathing down my neck and the nepotism accusation makes everything worse.”
“How can you believe that?” Leo asks, outraged. “You’re a better coach than Jakowski ever will be.”
“Tell that to my uncle,” I mutter.
“Or better yet,” Brax says, coming toward me. “How about we prove it to him?”
I look around at the guys standing in a circle around me. “How do you prove that?”
“We go out there and crush this game,” Brax says. “And then we tell your uncle that it’s all because of Coach Marco.”
“A win would definitely help. But you guys always try to win, regardless.”
“Yeah we do,” Leo says cockily. “But tonight we’re doing it for you. Then we’re going to tell him what you bring to this team as our coach, and all the ways Jakowski is trying to bring you down.” He looks around at his teammates. “Right, guys?”
Rourke puts his fist in the air. “I think this calls for a Crushers hug.”
“No, wait! I’m not—” But before I can get the words out, they’re circling around me, enclosing me inside their group hug.
“Guys!” I yell, trying to sound authoritative, but it’s too late. I’m in the middle of a giant Crushers sandwich. “I’m supposed to be your coach, not your—”
“Marco, Marco!” Rourke starts to chant. And pretty soon they’re all chanting my name.
At least my uncle isn’t here to witness this. He’d say it was highly unprofessional for a coach to engage like this. But these players aren’t just my team—they’re my brothers.
When they let go, I’m shaking my head. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Coach Marco, you’re supposed to tell us to go kick some hockey butt,” Miles says proudly.
“All right.” I straighten my jacket, trying to look like the coach I’m supposed to be. “You want to do this for me? Then get out there and show everyone why the Carolina Crushers are the best team in this league.”
The roar that follows is deafening.
I expect the guys to play hard. What I don’t expect is San Diego dominating the first period, 2–0, before we come roaring back in the second to tie it up. By the time we hit the third period, it’s anyone’s game. If there’s one thing this team does well, it’s saving the best for last.
Jaxon heads off the ice on a change, his replacement already jumping over the boards. The moment he hits the bench, he’s reaching for an ice pack.
“Chance,” I yell. “Are you sure you don’t need a longer break?”
He inhales half of his water bottle. “I’m good, Coach. This knee just needs a minute.”
His bravado makes me think he’s in more pain than he’s letting on, and my gut instinct tells me to bench him for the remaining time left.
But the second his shift ends, he’s already leaning over the boards, ready to get back in the game.
And I admire that kind of hunger to play, a refusal to quit, even when your body’s screaming at you to stop.
I know the feeling. I spent most of my childhood on the sidelines watching other kids play while my lungs made the decision for me.
After a line change, MacPherson has the puck, taking it down the ice while Jaxon Chance hustles to block one of the San Diego players.
The defender comes in hard, and Chance braces for the impact.
The hit sends him crashing into the boards with a sickening thud as MacPherson sends the puck to Anderson.
I’m caught between two things happening at once: Leo going for the shot, while Jaxon’s leg twists the wrong way. He collapses on the ice just as the shot hits the back of the net.
Our fans erupt, their attention on the goal. But my eyes stay on Jaxon. He’s curled into himself on the ice, holding his knee in pain.
Get up, Jaxon. Come on. You gotta get up.
Gabriella rushes to his side to check the extent of his injuries. From this distance, I can’t hear anything they’re saying, but judging by the fact that Jaxon isn’t moving, I don’t have a good feeling about this.
Brax glances over and shakes his head, the subtle gesture telling me everything I need to know.
Rourke and Leo help him to his feet, but as soon as he tries to put weight on that leg, his face contorts.
It’s his bad knee. The one that was injured.
I drop my head and sigh. I knew I shouldn’t have let him go back out in the game.
When he passes me, our eyes meet for a brief second. “Don’t even give me that look, Coach,” he grits out. “You know I’d do it again for the win.”
“I know you would.” I clap his shoulder as Gabriella takes over, guiding him toward the tunnel.
Our players head back to their positions, battered and bruised, but there’s something in their eyes—a refusal to give up, now that Jaxon just sacrificed his knee for this. They already know that if we don’t win this game, we’re out of the playoffs, and his offering will be in vain.
We’re ahead by one with a minute left in the game. So when one of the San Diego forwards grabs a loose puck and breaks away down the ice, our goalie takes his position, crouched and ready.
Everything has come down to this moment. The winger launches the shot, and after thousands of practice blocks, Morgan knows exactly where that shot is going.
He blocks the puck with only seconds remaining, leaving us with a 3–2 win over San Diego.
We did it—the first round of playoffs has been secured.
The team mobs Miles, who gets buried under a pile of elated Crushers.
As we leave the rink, Coach Jenkins slaps me on the shoulder. “Good game, Marco.” Jenkins doesn’t show a lot of emotions, but I can see that he’s actually smiling. “I’m looking forward to the playoffs.”
“I’m just relieved we made it,” I say, heading toward the press room.
He stops in the hall, tilting his head. “You doubted it?”
“Not the team,” I explain. “I’m the one who had something to prove tonight.”
He crosses his arms. “Not with me you didn’t. You’re a good coach, Marco, and you’re going to have a long career.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. I already told your uncle as much. Said if he even considered letting you go, then I’d walk too.”
“But your contract—”
He waves his hand. “I called his bluff.” He looks around, then lowers his voice.
“If anyone should be worried about their contract, it’s Jakowski.
I know he threw you under the bus with that report, but you took the high road and got it done.
Your integrity is one of the reasons I want you on my staff. ”
“Thanks, sir.” I nod as he steps away to deal with the media.
We head to the press conference where Miles is the star of the night, and no one even questions why I’m there—just the way I want it. It’s the assistant coach’s duty to keep the attention focused on the team.
Afterward, I check on Jaxon, who’s being wheeled out on a gurney. He’s reading a message on his phone.
“You want me to come with you?” I ask.
“Naw,” he says. “Prognosis doesn’t look great, but when did that ever stop me?”
“I know.” I walk alongside the gurney. “You always come out fighting.”
“Hey, Coach, my mom texted and you’ll never believe who asked about me tonight. That girl I used to date in high school, the one who won’t speak to me.”
“What’d she say?”
“She called my mom after I got hurt and asked if I was okay. Apparently, they run into each other at church every Sunday. My mom’s been giving her updates on my career for years.”
“Really?”
“She also asked if I was ever coming home. Mom asked why she wanted to know, and she said, Because this town’s not big enough for both of us.”
I laugh. “Sounds like she missed you.”
“She made it clear she hoped I’d never come back.” He gives me a lazy grin, then lifts two fingers, his signature wave, before they wheel him out the door.
I know the last thing he wants is to lose his place on the team.
But we both know the statistics. Hockey players retire early, their bodies broken down by a sport that beats them to a pulp.
At his age, with this kind of injury, his career might be over.
And if it is, he’ll be forced to return to the family farm—a tough pill to swallow for a guy who only wants to play hockey.
If he had a girl waiting for him, that would make all the difference in the world. But it sounds like the only one he dated isn’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat.
Guys like Jaxon never stop loving the sport. And it’s the love of the game that drives them to play through the pain. I let him play tonight against my better judgment, and even though I know he wouldn’t want it any other way, it’s a lesson I won’t forget.
When I turn around, I discover my uncle standing in the hallway. I don’t know if I’m ready for this conversation, or the truth he might not accept from me. But I force myself to walk toward him instead of away.
“The boys pulled off a win,” he states. “I’m sure you’re relieved.”
I square my shoulders, proud of what we did on the ice. “They played their hearts out tonight.”
He glances around the crowded hallway. “Can I talk to you for a minute? There’s space in my vehicle on the way to the hotel.”
He’s never offered me a ride before, not once in all the months I’ve been coaching this team.
Which means this conversation is what I think it is. “Does this have to do with Scarlett?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“Of course.” He doesn’t mince words, a trait I’ve always respected. “And the truth about your arrangement.”
His driver pulls up just outside the exit doors. It’s starting to rain now, and the drops splatter against the door, blurring the lights of the waiting car.
“Good,” I say, looking him straight in the eyes. “Because I want to talk about what happened the night of Carmen’s accident.”
His brow furrows. “What does that have to do with now?”
“Everything.” I push open the door to the pouring rain, ready to go after the girl I love and the future I want with her.
As I climb into his vehicle, I think about Jaxon taking a direct hit, rather than sitting on the bench—choosing his dream over playing it safe.
Now it’s my turn to fight—for Scarlett and the future I should have claimed years ago.
My uncle settles into the seat next to me as the driver pulls away from the arena. “Before you talk to me about Scarlett, I need to tell you something important,” I say directly to him. “That night at the hospital, you made a choice that affected over a decade of my life.”
He doesn’t respond, just looks out at the blurry city lights.
“So whatever you think you know about our relationship, we’re going to start there. And then you’re going to listen to the truth about how I feel about Scarlett Rossi.”
The rain pounds against the roof of the car as Rafael finally turns to me. “All right, Brendan. I’m listening.”