Chapter Nine
Cold Shoulders and Hot Shots
Something about the crisp sound of cleats digging into grass drowns out everything else.
Even the demons in my own head have shut up.
I only occasionally lift my gaze to the two hot women in the stands---Regan and Chandra.
Regan's coach, Bohdan, sits beside her like he owns his number one athlete.
After an entire week of practice that includes two women glaring at each other, I can't take it anymore.
So, I march straight up to the stands and shout, "Fedorenko! Hey, stop the stink eye, will ya? I'm not the enemy."
"I do not dislike you, Mr. Hannigan," the skating coach explains. "But Regan should be spending a great deal more time with me than with you. Do you wish for her to lose her chance to advance in the rankings?"
"No, of course not."
He rises and clomps down three sets of metal bleacher steps to meet me sort of eye to eye. Bohdan glowers at me. "If you genuinely wish for her to succeed, then tell her to forget about you."
"Come on, man. That's beyond harsh." I shrug. "Regan isn't a child, you know."
Fedorenko lifts his chin in a regal way that makes him seem as if he's the king of Ukraine. Do they have a king there? Probably not. "Mr. Hannigan, you cannot have both romance and a professional career. That goes for Regan and you."
I hike up my shoulders at the woman in question, spreading my arms in a wide gesture. "Can I help it if women love me?"
Bohdan shakes his head, but his lips curl up slightly. Maybe he doesn't hate me after all. But right now, I need to get back to work. As I hurry over to where my teammates are huddled, I force myself not to look at Regan anymore---today. As for tomorrow, time will tell.
"Hannigan! Eyes up!" Coach Barnes bellows from the sideline, and my focus drifts back to the unfolding play. Richie Otieno is charging down the field like he's got something to prove, which, let's be honest, he always does when I'm around.
I adjust my stance, letting all the noise inside and outside my head fade away.
All I can think about now is how to run this play.
The Portland Bigfoots didn't sign me so I could daydream on the field.
They signed me to lead, to execute, to win.
But lately, my mind keeps wandering to blue eyes and ice rinks.
The ball snaps into my hands, an extension of myself.
For three glorious seconds, everything makes perfect sense.
Time slows, options crystallize. I see Darnell Emmett breaking free on the left, but there's an opening in the middle I can exploit.
My feet react before my brain fully processes, and I'm tucking the ball, charging through a gap that wasn't there a second ago.
I get five yards before Linus Tanner slams into my side. Not the cleanest hit, but effective enough to put me on my ass.
"You telegraphed that," Ernie calls out as I pick myself up. "Everyone in the stadium knew you were gonna run it yourself."
"Including me," Tanner says with a smirk, extending a hand to help me up.
I accept it, dusting grass off my uniform. "Just keeping you on your toes."
"Keep me on my toes in the game against the Devils next week, not in practice."
I glance over my shoulder at the bleachers.
Chandra is sitting there looking very pleased with herself for some reason.
Maybe she just enjoy watching me get knocked on my ass.
Regan, on the other hand, is leaning forward with concern etched across her face.
I give her a quick thumbs up before refocusing.
"Hannigan," Coach Ernie shouts, waving me over. "A word please."
I jog to the sideline. "What's up, Coach?"
He places a hand on my shoulder pad, lowering his voice. "Your head's not in the game today. Hell, it hasn't been all week."
"I'm fine, Coach. Working through some timing issues, that's all."
Ernie puckers his mouth, a sure sign he's not buying that crap.
"Son, I've coached you for three seasons now---more if we count your high school days.
I know when you're ready to play and when you're distracted.
" He glances up at the stands and sighs.
"Your personal life is your business, but when it affects your game, it becomes mine. "
"It won't happen again."
"That's what you said yesterday." Ernie's weathered face softens slightly. "Look, I'm not blind. You've got two women up there who could distract a monk. But the Devils don't care about your love life when they're trying to take your head off next week."
Ernie thinks I've got a love life. That would be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. "I've got this. Just need to compartmentalize."
"Do whatever you need to do but figure it out fast." He taps my helmet. "This team needs the Mike Hannigan who broke three records last season, not the one who can't decide where to look during practice."
I see movement out of the corner of my eye---movement from the stands. Don't look, Hannigan. Don't you do it. For once, I take my own advice. Doubling down on the practice session will keep me focused.
"Twenty-five, set, go!" I call out, forcing my mind back into the game.
The offensive line snaps into action, and this time I drop back, scanning for open receivers. Darnell makes his cut exactly when he should, and I thread the needle between two defenders. Perfect spiral, right into his hands. He takes it another fifteen yards before stepping out of bounds.
Coach yells and claps his hands. "Do that every time!"
Easier said than done when my ex is shooting daggers at my...whatever Regan is. Friend? Potential girlfriend? The label doesn't matter right now.
Three more plays, three more completions.
I'm back in the zone, my body moving on muscle memory developed from thousands of hours of practice.
I'm finally feeling like myself again, until I catch a glimpse of movement in the stands.
Dammit. Regan's standing now with a big purse slung over her shoulder.
She's leaving. With Bohdan. And I hate that I noticed.
"Eyes front, Hannigan!" Coach barks.
I return my attention to the field, but my timing's off now. The next pass sails over Darnell's head by a good three feet.
"What the hell was that?" Coach demands, storming onto the field. "Are you regressing on me now?"
"No, sir. Just a miscalculation."
Coach Ernie blows out a breath through his nostrils. "Take five, get your head straight."
I jog to the sideline, grabbing a water bottle and squirting half of it down my throat, the other half over my head. The cold liquid runs down my neck and soaks into my jersey. I need to get it together. It's just practice, not the Super Bowl. But my brain won't cooperate.
I glance back up at the stands. Regan's gone now, but Chandra is still in the stands, scrolling through her phone with calculated nonchalance. Every time I glance up, she pretends not to notice, then flips her hair or crosses her legs just as I'm about to turn away.
"Water break's over, Hannigan!" Coach Barnes calls. "Let's run that play again."
I jog back onto the field, trying to clear my mind.
"Dude," he mutters as we line up, "just pick one already."
Ignore the dig, but I can't fault him for speaking up about my girl trouble. Once the practice is over, I have a plan. It's a terrible plan, but at least it's a plan.
"One more play," I shout, clapping my hands together and moving to the line. "Let's make it count."
This time I put everything into it---every ounce of focus, every bit of training, every second I've spent studying film. The play unfolds like clockwork, and I hit Darnell with a perfect spiral that he takes to the house, straight into the end zone.
Coach Barnes gives an approving nod, but I can tell he's still not convinced I've got my head screwed on straight. He's right not to be.
When practice finally ends, I make a beeline for the locker room, avoiding any potential interactions with Chandra. She's been trying to corner me all week with those "we need to talk" eyes. No thanks. Been there, suffered through that.
"Hannigan," Richie calls out as I'm halfway to my destination. "Hold up."
I pause, watching as he jogs over, still breathing hard from practice. "What's up?"
"Just wanted to say...don't let Coach get in your head too much. We all have off days."
"Thanks, I appreciate the support, Richie."
He shrugs. "Whatever's jamming you up, figure it out before the Devils game. They've been studying our plays, and Decker heard their defense has been specifically training to shut you down."
He jogs away with several of our teammates.
I glance back at the stands where Chandra is still sitting and decide to jog up the tiers to meet her. It's time to make it crystal clear that we are not a couple anymore.