“You okay, Coach?” Julian asked, sliding onto the stool beside me. “You look like you’re about to puke.”
The others gathered around, but my eyes scanned the crowd, searching for him—the one face that could calm the storm. But he wasn’t here. Not anymore. Teddy was at home, and his teammates were here, trying to fill the space he left behind.
Ryder shoved a few guys aside and leaned in close, his gaze locking onto mine. “Coach.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
“Coach. Frankie.” That snapped me back to reality.
“I need to get out of here.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I needed Teddy. His arms around me, holding me together, because right now, what I felt was pure terror. It looked like hope to some, but hope had been a stranger to me for most of my life, especially after the tragedies I’d endured. I didn’t want to imagine what could come next.
And then, he was there.
He strode through the door like he owned the place, every step radiating that effortless confidence that only Teddy could pull off. His big hands, his even bigger heart—he was my anchor.
I couldn’t breathe. My chest seized as my lips gasped for air. I reached for the gin and tonic Antonyhad set in front of me, but before I could take a sip, it vanished from my fingertips.
“Frankie.” His voice was a whisper, yet it felt like thunder. His eyes—big, crystal-clear—found mine instantly. His hands skimmed down my arms then over my thighs, like he was checking to make sure I was still whole. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing. Nothing was wrong. Unless you counted the fact that I had just missed a huge fucking phone call, and now I had no idea what it meant or what they wanted from me.
With a low grunt, Teddy lifted me off the stool, placing my feet on the ground. His fingers intertwined with mine, and he tugged me toward the far wall, away from the prying eyes of his ex-teammates and the hushed whispers surrounding us.
We stopped, and I leaned my shoulder against the wall, finally able to draw a shaky breath. “What are you doing here?”
A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but concern still lingered in his gaze. “Rowan said you guys were heading outfor drinks after practice.” He leaned in closer. “Hope it’s okay I joined you.”
I rose to meet him, pressing my lips to his in silent reply. Instantly, my nerves settled. But then, my phone rang, yanking me right back into the storm.
It was Colorado Springs. After a few tries, I managed to answer, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Frankie Holloway.”
“Frankie!” the woman practically shouted, her excitement clear. “So glad I reached you. This is Sherea Munoz, with the?—”
“I know who you coach.”
She laughed softly, clearly unbothered. “Of course. Look, I’m about to head into a meeting, so I’ll keep this brief. We’re considering you for the assistant coach position with our team next February.”
Next February. “You mean—” I couldn’t bring myself to say it, couldn’t let myself hope.
“For the Olympics.” She didn’t hesitate. “Nothing’s set in stone yet, but we’ve been impressed with the power play work you’ve been doing with the Guardians this season.”
“The Olympics,” I whispered, the word heavy in my mouth. Teddy’s eyes widened, and a grin broke across his face. “The Olympics?” Had I really heard her right?
She laughed again, the sound warm and reassuring. “Of course. You’re an excellent coach, Frankie. Our team would be lucky to have you.”
An icy wave of doubt washed over me. “Coach Munoz, I’m not sure if you’ve heard the news?—”
“Of course I have. We know everything. But here at USA Hockey, we don’t believe in letting women take the fall for things men have done for ages. We’re in the business of lifting women up, Ms. Morgan. We’ve got a short list of coaches we’re interviewing, but you’ll hear from us soon.” And then, she hung up.
I stared at my phone, unable to fully process what had just happened.
Teddy, practically vibrating with nervous energy, looked at me, waiting.
“I’m on the short list,” I finally said, still in disbelief, “to coach the power play at the Olympics.”
His kiss swallowed the word “Olympics,” and before I knew it, he had lifted me off my feet, spinning me around, never breaking the kiss, not even to breathe.
When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine. “I love you so fucking much. I’m so proud of you, babe.”
