Chapter 5 Cole
FIVE
COLE
Somehow the Bronco still smells like Eve’s sweet perfume. Hints of vanilla and strawberry have driven me crazy for days. I finally left the windows down to air it out. I hope the snowstorm they’re calling for doesn’t start until later.
Tantalizing thoughts of her tights haunted my dreams again last night. I shouldn’t have snuck glances at her legs when I gave her a ride home last week. But I also wasn’t about to leave her to walk all the way home by herself.
I need to figure out how to shut off my reaction to her if we’re going to be spending even more time together. How the hell did I keep myself in line in high school?
Whatever. Now’s not the time to be thinking about ripping tights off the coach’s daughter.
I dart my attention to the opposite side of the ice. David’s bracing his hands on the boards. Licking my lips, I make a conscious effort to clear my head.
The jitters of my first day as a college-level coach dwindled after the initial practice. They’re still there, but I’m getting a handle on them after a week.
Faking it with a smile until I skate by is how I’ve always operated since my wild teenage days doing dumb shit for laughs like tying rope from the back of an ATV to a trash lid to sled the trails.
Except this time I’m taking this seriously. Far more than I did with my past jobs. I want to make it work instead of goofing my way through. Even if this is only temporary.
I love this game. I love the strategy and skill involved. The payoff when those hours of practice become an insane goal or the game-saving defense against all odds is the best damn thing in the world.
“Good, Reeves,” I call from the boards when he kills the beautiful shot Alex Keller takes on the net during their scrimmage.
“Watch out for your footwork, Brody. Get on the inside of that approach and you’ll have the leverage to push him out of it before Keller shoots.
Protect your zone. Keep that in mind for tomorrow’s game. ”
Brody nods with a determined expression that ignites satisfaction within me.
Going pro was never my path in hockey. Not even when I had the chance to become a free agent.
This is. It’s fulfilling to train talented young players like these guys to help them sharpen their game. I want to leave a lasting impression on them for however long I hold the assistant coaching position.
We’ve only played one Friday-Saturday series since I joined the program as a coach. They won back to back against UConn. Watching their successful chemistry as a team made me feel like I’m winning with them.
Each player on Heston U’s roster has talent in spades individually. As a team, they’re incredible. There’s no question they’re good enough to make it back to the Frozen Four again this year.
It’s still sinking in that I get to be a part of that.
They’re out there practicing hard on the ice and I’m buzzing with inspiration now that I’ve seen what I’m working with.
I arrived early again after a late night putting more effort into researching new ideas to bring to the table than I ever have.
From my college to high school teammates, even some as far back as junior league, I’ve always had the sense that they knew what they wanted compared to me.
Even the Heston U guys give me the impression they know the direction their lives are taking, and they aren’t afraid to chase what they want until they get it.
With this job, I think I finally have an inkling of what that’s like.
The other side gets a breakaway. I watch closely, assessing the play as it unfolds.
Theo Boucher passes to Keller when they cross into our end of the ice.
Then Boucher needs to evade his opponents, so he sends the puck to the hotshot rookie center, Easton Blake.
He receives it back when he’s deep in the zone as he approaches the net.
Boucher’s cut off by Jake Brody racing in to stop him.
“Nice! That’s how it’s done!”
Boucher has no openings. He tries to push Brody on his own, testing ways to get around him. It doesn’t work.
Brody hits the puck away and another one of our guys picks it up to turn the tide. He doesn’t get far before Blake steals it back and goes for a goal with a wicked fast slap shot. His control is impressive as fuck. Reeves gets a piece of it, but it’s clean.
Damn, I think that kid will go far.
Pride explodes, filling me with exhilaration at Brody’s successful defense during the play. It grows when he turns to me with the look of someone that just figured out they’re capable of great things. His teammates bump fists with him and pat him on the back in the shuffle to reset for a face-off.
“Keep it up just like that, got it? You know how to be fast, you just need to go for it instead of hesitating,” I instruct.
“Yes, coach.”
My stomach clenches for a beat. It’s the first time I’ve heard one of them call me that. It feels damn good.
The scrimmage continues. David makes his way over for the rest of it. He surveys the game, occasionally tracking an individual player with a thoughtful hum before making notes on a legal pad tucked in the binder he carries. There’s no doubt about his reputation as a dedicated coach.
“Settling in?” he asks when time for the game is almost up.
“I am, thanks.”
He’s my boss, not my coach. I’m not a player anymore. Yet I can’t help but feel like I’ve got to prove myself and make a useful contribution the few times he’s done this since I started.
“Glad to hear it. You’re a good addition to our team.” His laugh lines deepen when his mouth curves. “The players have taken right to you.”
Sparks of happiness go off in my chest like tiny firecrackers. “That’s good.” A wry laugh shakes my shoulders. “A few of them have seen me around town outside of practice and follow me. Also, I’ve been meaning to tell you. Thanks again for trusting me with this job.”
David studies me from the corner of his eye. “You weren’t the first one I thought of to fill the position.”
A weight drops in my stomach. “Oh. Right, of course.”
Temporary, I remind myself.
“But I’m glad I called you in. So far, it’s a better fit than I could’ve hoped for bringing on a change mid-season.” He pats my shoulder. “Keep it up, son.”
After practice, I go to Benson’s microbrewery. The old brick industrial warehouse he turned into a thriving business with Jess in only four years still impresses the hell out of me.
“Yo,” I call.
He pops out of the office area with a clipboard in hand. “Hey. Have a seat over there. I’ll be out in a sec. Let me just finish bottle inventory.”
I wave. “Take your time.”
“Help yourself, there’s a new pale ale we’re taste testing.”
The rough hewn island by the wall has stools around it. I snag one of the bottles in the mini fridge and sit.
I take a sip, groaning in appreciation for the perfect taste. Benson and Jess know what they’re doing.
While I wait for him, I pull up an article I saved last night. I want to show it to David to see what he thinks about incorporating it into the team’s development, but I haven’t found the right opportunity yet. I need to work up the courage to bring it up to him.
Benson startles me when he hefts a crate of empty bottles on the counter. “Swipe right. If you’re staring that long at her pictures, you want to bang her.”
“No.” I’m distracted by reading the article, then throw him a puzzled glance. “Huh? I’m not—no. I’m reading about mobility exercises for flexibility and balance training.”
His brows shoot up when I flash him my screen. “Oh, seriously? That’s a weird look on you. Are you about to turn into a workaholic? You?”
I hesitate to respond. His shock isn’t a surprise. I’ve always had a reputation of being too easygoing everywhere but on the ice.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” I admit. “I like this job, though. I don’t have the same expertise as a great coach like your dad, so I’m catching up in my own way.”
Benson’s joking expression falters. “Sorry. Ignore me. I never cured that inherent jackass gene.”
I snicker. “It’s all good. Kind of new for me, too.”
“That’s cool. You like it?” He circles the island and braces his forearms on it.
“I do. I—really do.” I lick my lips. “I think this might be my thing. What I want to do with my life.”
He nods supportively. “Staying here? Or anywhere?”
My fingers clench around the bottle. I don’t know how long I’ll get to remain with Heston U, but if I can I think I would. After only a short time, I like it.
I’ve always been passionate about hockey. I love practices most. Helping teammates work on whatever they were improving, or honing my own skills. Strategizing and analyzing plays. Coaching allows me to focus on all of those elements.
“Wherever I can,” I say. “For now I’m here, though. I’m gaining experience by shadowing your dad. And these players, some of them are insane. I think we’ll see some called up to the big leagues.”
Benson smirks. “What I’m hearing is you need to get laid or you’ll get all hyper fixated like Eve does. Let’s see, Melissa is single. Savannah is, too. Actually, you should make a dating profile.”
I pull a face. “I don’t need that. And I sure as shit don’t need to take a walk down a memory lane of past hookups.”
He plants his hands on the island, leaning across with a grin. “Welcome back to small town life.”
I snort and cover his face, shoving him. “Fuck off.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything serious,” he points out. “We both know that’s not you. Do it as a way to find out who’s still around to reconnect with, or meet someone new. That’s all I’m saying.”
Maybe he’s right. As simple as it is to go to places like The Landmark or Clocktower Brew House to flirt my way into someone’s bed, it’s not like my schedule will allow for relationships of any kind.
The players have to put the hours in for practice and games, and as their coaches, we’re right there with them through it all. This cuts to the chase.
Plus, I have no idea if my time here will last.
“Just casual,” I muse.
“Yeah, man. That’s the spirit. Sow your wild oats and shit.”
I lift a brow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Live it up. And let me live vicariously through you because as soon as I met Jess freshman year, she was the only one I wanted.”
“Then why do you need a thrill?”
He shrugs. “I don’t. But I want you to be happy like that.”
I press my lips into a line. He’s got it all—the drive to build his business and the woman he loves at his side growing it with him. It could be nice to find a connection like that.
Except I don’t tend to stay in one place long enough to allow a relationship to get to a serious stage like theirs.
Eve flashes through my mind. It fills with her gorgeous smile, the way her cute laugh has always made me feel, those fucking sinful curves that have only become more tempting, and her colorful everything. Warmth expands, starting in my chest and spreading through me.
I shut down the forbidden train of thought before it runs away from me.
Can’t be thinking about her like this. It’s a major no-go.
“Give me your phone. I’ll help you take your profile picture,” Benson says.
“What, can’t I just use one I already have?”
He takes my phone and holds it up. “Work it. Give the ladies that famous Kincaid-brand smile that breaks all those hearts after you break their beds.”
Laughter busts out of me. He takes photos from different angles with ridiculous encouragement. I swipe a hand over my mouth and goof off by striking a few poses.
“There, you should have some winners in there, you beautiful bastard.” Benson tosses my phone to me. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks.”
I don’t put too much thought into making a profile on the first app that pops up when I search for online dating. I keep it basic, listing my interests for hockey, being outdoors, and kicking back with friends. The rest can come if the vibe is right when I find someone to talk to.
It’s not like I’m looking for the love of my life.