“She said she’s interested in hearing more. I’m going to give you her number.”
“That’s not?—”
“If you want your daughter to be the best, you’re going to need Hannah,” he says, and I sigh.
He’s not wrong.
After the night at her apartment, I went down the rabbit hole of watching her old skating routines. She’s better than good. She’sfantastic. I’ve never seen someone move so effortlessly on the ice, and my job is to literally get people to skate like that. There’s fluidity in her movements. A lightness to the way she glides, and she’s graceful on top of all of it.
It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
I’m not keeping track of her successes. Just… researching.
For Olivia.
“Fine,” I grumble. “Give me her number. I’ll reach out.”
“Sweet. I’ll text you in a few.” There’s a soft giggle on his end of the phone followed by a sigh. “Gotta run, Coach. See ya in the morning.”
“Everett,” I bark out, and he clears his throat.
“Yes sir?”
“Are you behaving yourself?”
“Of course I am.” He laughs, and I’m not convinced. “Later, Coach.”
We hang up, and he texts me her number. Hannah’s information is right there in the middle of my screen, and I take a deep breath.
Tomorrow, I tell myself.
I’ll message her tomorrow.
EIGHT
BRODY
I don’t messageHannah the next day, or the day after.
I don’t reach out to her at all because I’m a pathetic excuse for a man, and when my assistant coach stares at me from center ice, I scowl back at him.
“You look like shit.” Mikal Reynolds tips his head to the side. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Do I look like I got any sleep last night?” I grunt, watching the third line guys finish running a drill. “Stop asking me questions you know the answer to.”
“Noted.” He smirks and blows his whistle. Everyone comes to a halt, looking my way. “You’re up, Coach.”
“Our game the other night against San Fran wasn’t pretty. We got beat down the ice on almost every play.” I throw a glance at my first line players, glad when they dip their heads in agreement. I’m all for celebrating victories, but owning up to mistakes and shitty skating is just as important. “I know it’s early in the season. Our stamina isn’t where it was in the playoffs last year, but we’re better than that. It’s our second season of adjusting to our lineup without Mitchell in it.” I turn to look at Riley leaning against the boards. “Our rookie slotted in well last year, but we can’t make excuses about chemistry anymore. Youall know how to play the game. I want you giving your all when you’re on the ice, no matter how long you’re on it. If I see anyone giving a half-assed effort, I’ll switch you out with someone who wants to be there. Any questions?”
There are murmurs of agreement, and I give the boys a nod.
“Good. Let’s wrap up our ice time with some stationary puck control drills, then we’ll head to the weight room for sled pushes and box jumps. Sullivan and Davenport,” I say to my goalies, “I want you two working on net deflections with Trevor.” I point to our goalie coach on the opposite side of the rink. “Focusing on overlap, not RVH.”
“Fucking cruel, Coach,” Liam mumbles, fixing his mask.
“You rely on it too much.” I shrug. “Don’t give up two goals to a shitty team, and we’ll talk.”
“Ouch.”
