Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Oliver
“Make sure your weight is equally balanced,” I tell Gabe, watching his stance shift on the ice.
His knees wobble slightly as he adjusts.
“That’s where it all starts.” I tap my stick against the ice near his left skate.
“Good. Now watch your knees—see how they’re caving in?
Square them up. This is all going to help with your inside edge stops. ”
He nods behind his goalie mask, sweat already beading on his forehead despite the cold. The kid’s got potential, but he’s overthinking every movement.
Satisfied that he’s absorbed what I’ve said, I push off and glide across the ice to check on the other players.
The forwards are weaving through the neutral zone drill while the defensemen work on their positioning near the blue line.
One of the biggest games of the season is coming up next week, and you could cut the tension in this rink with a knife.
Everyone feels like the season got off to a bad start with Richie’s injury, and morale isn’t where it could be.
Taking a run in and out of the traffic cones just for fun, I lean hard into each turn, feeling the burn in my thighs and the satisfying bite of my edges carving the ice.
I glance over at Devin through the plexiglass.
She’s watching me with that particular tilt to her head, shaking her head with a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
I skate over to her, coming to a stop with a little flourish that sends ice shavings spraying against the boards.
“Did you see that?” I flex my arm. “You like those skills?”
“Yeah.” She laughs, and the sound cuts through all the tension in the rink. “Very impressive.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. The number on the screen stops me cold. It’s the same one that’s been sending me texts for weeks now.
“Keep an eye on your players’ skates. I might tamper with them like I did yours. Your shattered wrist was even better than I could have imagined. Hockey is better without you stealing the spotlight.”
Wait. Is this person saying what I think they are? It could be some crazy person but maybe they just admitted to causing my injury? My phone rings in my hand, and dread fills my stomach at the name on the screen.
“What is it?” Devin asks.
“It’s my mother.”
She pauses. “Oh.”
I glance over my shoulder. Everyone is looking good, and I can step away for a few minutes. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Devin.
If I don’t answer now, she’ll keep hounding me. Better to get it over with.
Still wearing my skates, I walk into the locker room and hit the answer button. “Hello.”
My mom snorts. “Oh, is that how you answer your mother’s phone call? Like she’s a telemarketer?”
I sit on a bench and rub my forehead. Shit. Five seconds into the phone call and I already have a headache. “Hi, Mom.”
“Oliver.” Her voice is hard. “Why didn’t you tell us about your job? You’re assistant coaching?”
I freeze. How did she—
“I got a Google alert,” she says. “There’s an article about you in a Portsmouth paper that says you’re the new assistant coach at the high school.
I thought you were just visiting Niall for a while.
Since when did you decide to stay there?
And coaching? There are so many better things you can do with your time. ”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve been putting this conversation off for long enough. Might as well dive right in and explain it all. “I—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, and I remember that she doesn’t want my answers. She wants to hear herself talk. “You can make it up to your father and me when we come into town next week. I have a conference in Portsmouth.”
“Since when?” I’m fully aware that I sound like a petulant child, and I don’t give a damn.
“It recently came up, and that’s not what matters. Find us a place to stay. I checked your game schedule and we’ll be there for your next game.”
“You’re coming to a game?” It’s hard to believe. They barely ever made it to my own games. Now they want to come to a high school game that I’m coaching? It feels like some kind of trap.
“I’ll send you the flight information. I have to go. Bye.” She hangs up quicker than I can even think of responding, and I’m left sitting here with a silent phone.
My parents… are coming to town.
And I feel like I could throw up.
Are they coming just so they can take a look at my new life and say “told you so?” They always argued hockey would never get me anywhere, unlike a “real sport” like football, and in their eyes I probably look like a failure, washed up and assistant coaching high school.
I couldn’t feel better, though. I love my new life.
I have a great job. I have peace. I have Devin.
Devin.
My family has never liked her, starting with the fact that they consider physical therapy pure quackery. Never mind that it’s scientifically backed and it helps people, myself included, all the time.
Maybe it’s that they just want something to hold against her since she’s so important to me.
Like all my other life choices, she’s another thing for them to tear down.
And it’s hard to find something wrong with a person as amazing as Devin.
But really, I don’t know and I don’t truly care.
Something else entirely is taking up my attention.
I can already picture the look on Devin’s face when I tell her my parents will be at next week’s game, and it’s not a pleasant one.
My limbs feel heavy and my balance is off as I trudge out of the locker room.
Devin is busy talking with her intern, and I have to finish up with the practice.
Once we’re all wrapped up, I wait for her in the parking lot so we can drive down the street and grab the pizza we’ve been talking about for the last two days.
When she emerges from the side door to the rink, her puffy jacket a bright blue against my dismal afternoon, a bit of the weight lifts from my heart.
“Hey.” She smiles big, and the last of that weight vanishes.
“Hey.” Wrapping my arms around her, I bring her in for a kiss. She melts into me, her taste warming my blood and spirit.
Breaking apart, I grin down at her. Someone could be watching us—a teacher or a student—but I don’t really care. There aren’t any rules against Devin and I dating; she’s not even technically a coworker, and let the world see. This is the kind of perfection that should never be hidden.
“Long day?” She asks.
“Only because every minute wasn’t spent with you.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “That’s sappy.”
“Sappy but true.” I give her another peck before opening the passenger door to my car for her.
During the drive to the pizza place, she gives me the rundown of her day.
I’m doing my best to listen, but the euphoria of finally getting to kiss her is fading and being replaced by thoughts of my parents.
They’ll hate my apartment… They’ll probably make some dig about how much smaller it is than my house in upstate New York.
And I already know they’ll turn their noses up at all the restaurants on Pine Island.
There’s nothing fancy there. Just good, simple food.
It’s like they have it out for me. Have since I can remember. Even before I chose hockey, I was always the butt of jokes in our house. Always the one who was criticized more heavily, while my brothers got off more easily.
Why? What did I ever do wrong?
“Everything okay?” Devin asks after we’ve taken seats at a table and ordered two slices each of cheese—classic and simple, but better than anything else.
I sigh. “No. My parents are coming to town next week. They’ll be at the game.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Oh.”
It’s the same ‘oh’ she uttered when my mom called. It’s an ‘oh’ that means she has opinions but will keep them to herself. Which is kind of her. Much like her family when it comes to me, they’ve never tried to hide their feelings.
“You don’t have to spend time with them,” I hurry to explain. “I don’t expect you to at all. Their visit wasn’t even planned. My mom just sprung it on me. She’s upset that I didn’t tell them about my new job, and they’re in town for some conference of hers…” Out of steam, I twist a cocktail napkin.
“I’m not missing the game, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I don’t care if Satan is there.”
I grin up at her. “Really?”
“Yes. No one is chasing me away from it.”
I let out a long exhale. “I’m sorry.”
“I know, but you don’t have to be.” She snorts. “It’s not like time with my family is always a walk in the park either.”
“What’s going on?” I reach across the table for her hand, needing to feel closer.
She laces her fingers through mine, her thumb absentmindedly tracing a pattern over my skin. “I’m not looking forward to this ski trip.”
“Really? I thought you loved spending time with your family.”
She looks out the window. “I told them about you when I went home for Christmas. Just that I ran into you, that you moved to the area. It wasn’t…”
“I don’t have to guess.” My words are rigid, but I can’t be too angry. It’s their job to protect Devin, and I wasn’t the best boyfriend I could have been. They have every right to dislike me.
“They only remember the bad things.” Her face scrunches up.
“Have you told them that we’re dating again?”
Her hesitation is all the answer I need.
“Are you going to tell them?” I slowly ask, trying to not make this about me and become offended.
“I need to, I just…”
“Don’t want to let them down?” The familiarity of it all makes me cringe.
“Somewhat. I also don’t want their opinion of you to… this is going to sound bad and like I’m weak… but rub off on me.”
I sit on that for a moment. It’s not an ideal thing to hear, but I have to remember that she’s really close with her sister and parents and has always valued their opinions.
“So how will you prevent that?” I ask.
She rubs her hairline, thinking about it. “The only thing I can think of is not talking about you… until I decide to tell them about you.”
Her guilt is obvious. “I haven’t told my parents about you yet either.”
“You haven’t?”
“I haven’t told them about anything happening in my life lately. I don’t want you and I to be a secret, it’s just…”
“Easier this way,” she finishes for me.
“Yeah.” I cringe. Shit. Since when did I start taking the easy way out? That’s not me at all. “Screw it,” I decide. “I’m not going to worry about what my parents think or what they might have to say. Their opinions don’t matter.”
“Yeah?” She looks doubtful, which only encourages me more.
“Yes.” I nod.
It’s easier said than done, and I know I have a huge task ahead of me, but I’ll never be happy if I keep limiting myself because of comments from the peanut gallery.
Suddenly, I remember the text I got during practice.
I haven’t had a chance to tell Devin about it yet.
I show her the message so I can get her opinion on if it’s legit or not.
She looks appropriately disturbed. “Oliver, I haven’t said anything until now because I didn’t want to falsely accuse anyone or cause drama, but I think you should look into Mark Bailey.”
Her words just confirm what I’ve been thinking but I need to know, “What makes you suspect Bailey?”
She looks sheepish for a moment. “I’ve been doing some…
research, if you will. You looked so spooked when Bailey showed up that I looked into him a little bit.
I learned that he’s a pretty violent guy and suspended from the next few games for unnecessary aggression.
Not to mention the assault and battery accusations that never went anywhere because of his fancy lawyer. ” She takes a breath.
I didn’t even know all of that. “Yeah, I always suspected that someone tampered with my skates that night. I know I pissed off a few of my teammates but Bailey was always the most vocal about his dislike of me.”
She nods. “Did you mention his name during the investigation?”
“Yeah, but nothing could be proven.”
“Well, it might be worth looking into who is sending you these messages,” she says thoughtfully.
“You’re right,” I say decidedly. “I have a friend from back home that’s a private investigator. I think I’ll ask him to do some digging.”
The pizza arrives, giving us a break in the conversation before we move on to discussing other things.
I’m already hoping that Devin can come over, and when I drop her off at her car and she agrees to meet me at my apartment, I start breathing easier.
Despite my decision to not give a damn about my parents’ opinions, I’m starting to freak out again.
I’m a grown man. A success—well, previously successful pro athlete. I shouldn’t be so influenced by what others think, yet in the face of my parents I often feel like a little kid again.
Stepping into my living room, we shed our outer layers, and Devin sidles up to me. Her hands slide down my chest and then lower, but my body doesn’t respond like it did the last time she touched me there.
Gently, I take her hands in mine. “I’d much rather just… lie on the couch together. Is that okay?”
She blinks at me in surprise. Our conversation over dinner was intense, and I know this move. She’s trying to shake off the heaviness with sex. It’s one of the pitfalls I promised myself I would avoid this time around.
I want to feel close to her, but not through escapism.
“Okay,” she says with a soft nod.
We turn on a movie and cozy up on the couch, my chest against her back and her cradling my arms. For the first time since my mom called, my thoughts unscramble. I can think clearly.
Whatever happens next week, it won’t matter. My parents can believe whatever they choose to. I know what’s worthwhile, what’s important to me, and that’s the life I’m building here on Pine Island. That’s coaching. Devin.
I’m exactly where I need to be, and it’s never felt so good.