You can’t be serious, Richardson.
You just earned an extra forty-five minutes in the weight room.
Richardson
Joke is on you. I love sled pushes.
*Liam Sullivan has left the chat*
*Ethan Richardson has added Liam Sullivan to the chat*
Richardson
Just accept it, Sully. There’s no escaping us.
Sullivan
Fuck my life.
** *
The week we have off during the league’s international competition was a welcomed relief. Hannah and I skated every day. She showed me some of the routine she’s working on for her competition, and when she fell after trying to land a move I can’t pronounce, I gave her a hug and told her I was proud of her before she could start to doubt herself.
The two weeks after the break at the start of March are some of the toughest of the season. We have ten games over fifteen days. Six are at home, but the cross-country flights nearly knock me on my ass. Maverick is still away from the team, the guys who have been helping him and Emmy are dragging too, and I made a last-minute decision to cancel tomorrow’s morning skate so everyone can take a fucking breath.
I lean against the doorframe of Hannah’s apartment, my head on my forearm while I contemplate taking a power nap before I take her out.
“Falling asleep on me, Saunders?” Hannah asks, opening the door in a jean skirt and sweater. “Our date hasn’t even started.”
“Sorry.” I yawn and stand up straight. “I’m exhausted.”
“We can reschedule if you want to?—”
“No.” I grab her by the belt loop and bring her to me, kissing her forehead. “Hi, Ice Queen.”
“Hi, baby.” Hannah stares at me horrified, a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god. No.Nope. Pretend I didn’t say that. I meant BB. Not baby.”
“Hannah Everett. Dropping the pet names on me.” My hands slide into her back pockets, giving her ass a squeeze. “I’mscandalized.”
“Sorry. Was that weird? It felt weird.” Pink cheeks. Hurried tone. Her nerves make me smile. “Are you ready? We should go.”
“Why are you freaking out? I don’t think that was weird, sweetheart,” I say to make a point. It’s my turn for flushed cheeks. “I liked it.”
“Wait a second. Are you secretly a big softie? A romantic?” She stands on her toes and touches my cheek. “I knew there was so much more to you than all the grunts and groans.”
“Layers.” I kiss her ear, her jaw. “I’m full of surprises.”
“Like where you’re taking me tonight?”
“My mental capacity for planning things is pretty low right now,” I admit. “There’s a lot going on with our schedule, making sure my players are taking care of themselves, and Liv recovering from the stomach bug. Is it okay if we keep it lowkey tonight?”
“Lowkey sounds perfect.” Hannah pats my chest and grabs her purse, lacing our fingers together. “Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”
“That’s coaching a professional sport.” I watch her lock up and we file into the elevator. “I’d say the summers are quieter, but that’s when all the roster changes happen.”
“Is coaching something you see yourself doing the rest of your life?”
“I’d like it to be. Coaching at the Olympics is the short-term goal, but long-term? Yeah. I’d like to put in twenty more years. I enjoy it. I’m decent at it. I don’t see myself as a commentator or analyst, and you’d have to pay all the money in the fucking world to be on television.”
