My coach.
Damn, my coach.
I knew she stirred something in me, got my blood pumping every time she yelled at me. But want? Desire? No, that wasn’t in the cards.
Turning to head for the exit, I hesitated when a quiet sniffle reached my ear. I closed my eyes and took a breath. Then, I turned back.
She seemed to have forgotten I was there, and damn if that didn’t make my heart ache. "Are you dying?" I winced inwardly.
Her impossibly sad eyes met mine. "Excuse me?"
"Or did your cat get run over by a car?"
"I don’t have a cat."
I knew I should shut up, but keeping things serious had never been my style. Instead, I felt everything anyone else felt—deep, dark. And the only way to keep those emotions from swallowing me whole was to make light of it all, to crack jokes and act like an idiot.
It was what people expected from me.
"Maybe if you had a cat, you wouldn’t be crying."
"I’m not?—"
"Crying? Don’t bullshit me, Coach." That word.Coach. It kept the distance between us intact, no matter how much every part of me stood at attention whenever she yelled at me.
Frankie straightened her back, pushing herself up from the desk and circling around it. "Valentine," she sighed. "I’m not your mother."
"Good. My mom’s a bitch."
She didn’t flinch. "Or your sister. I’m not your friend, and I’m definitely not the puck bunny filling your bed. Do you understand?"
I raised my hands in surrender. "I saw nothing. Got it."
She nodded, motioning for me to head out, following me while pushing her bike beside her. I wanted to offer to help, to take the bike off her hands, but something told me she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.
"What are you still doing here anyway?" she asked as she stepped through the door I held open for her. We made our way to the parking lot, where I spotted Rowan in his beat-up Hyundai. The guy had a signing bonus from the Kings but was the cheapest person I knew.
"Docs were checking me out." I shrugged, trying to push away the memories of the last hour.
You won’t be back on the ice for a few weeks.
Promise us you’ll stay off your feet.
No road trip for you.
Rowan waved at me through the window, his headlights blinding me and making my headache worse. The doctors suspected a concussion, and Rowan was my designated babysitter for the night since Ryder had skipped out to San Jose to stick his head even further up my sister’s ass.
I wasn’t bitter about sharing my friend at all.
I glanced from Rowan’s car to Frankie’s bike, raising an eyebrow. "Want a ride?"
She hesitated for a moment. "No. I’m okay."
The bike she always kept by her side was one of the first things I noticed about Frankie when the team hired her three years ago. Then came everything else.
A few months ago, I’d accidentally hit on her while drunk. Sydney would laugh at my use of the word "accidentally," but there’s no way I’d have crossed that line sober. Not with her. No matter how much I wanted to.
"Are you sure it’s safe?" I glanced around the empty, dark lot. We were the only ones here, aside from Rowan.
