“Gods is a bit far-fetched, but they are raised to a higher standard. I’ve noticed there are two sides to it: those who believe they need to keep their noses clean and those who forgive every fucked up thing they do,” I admit. “It’s like hockey is more important than anything else.”
“I love the sport and my team, but I think being a decent human is more important,” he says, walking down the stairs.
“I agree with that. I know my thinking seems overdramatic?—”
“It doesn’t,” he says, cutting me off. “I don’t know what happened when Curtis left his previous team. However, I know it was pretty serious. I have daughters, and I don’t know if I’d be comfortable having them on the road with me.”
“They’re younger than I am though, right?” I ask. This assistant coach is much younger than my dad, I think.
“Yeah, but if they weren’t, I would still worry,” he says. “There’s no constant except for chaos.”
“I think that is a type of structure,” I laugh. “I expect nothing from each day, and that makes it easier to navigate.”
“You’re a very odd omega,” he murmurs, opening the door so I can slip past him to see my father.
“I know,” I say, smiling at my dad as he turns.
“The assistant coaches are going to take over so I can grab some food with you,” he says.
“Oh! I thought you were taking a break,” I say, twisting around to make a face at Patrick. He pretends not to notice, yelling something across the ice at a player. “I had a protein bar. I’m good, Dad.”
“Liar,” he says as my stomach complains. “They’ve got it.”
A player skates up to the bench and I take a breath, finding that the longer I’m around them, the better my anxiety seems to get. I’m also down to one heat pill every three days for my medication, and I’ve weaned myself off everything else.
There’s birth control in my heat pills, but if I decide I ever want to have sex, I’ll need to use some other type of medication for it or condoms. It’s too bad that it’s difficult for omegas to become nuns, because I’d consider it. My experience with sex was awful.
“Coach, are you leaving?” the player asks, pulling me out of my odd thoughts. I blame Marilyn for this.
“Only for an hour max,” Dad says. “You need something?”
“Nah, I was just wondering. The team looks good,” the player says. His name is Erro, and he’s careful not to look directly at me. “I’ll see you when you’re back.”
Dad bobs his head, moving over to place his hand on my back as we walk.
“What have you been up to?” he asks. I’m enveloped in a hoodie that hits my thighs. I should be used to the cold by this point, but that’s sadly not the case since I’m not moving as much.
“Working,” I murmur. I’m not going to tell Dad about the message from Marilyn, I decide. I took care of it. There’s no reason to drive his blood pressure up. “I’m playing with some new techniques, but I need to check the audio in a quieter place to make sure the background noises didn’t get picked up.”
“Good. I’m taking you out for dinner somewhere quiet,” he says. “There’s a protein bowl restaurant around the corner. I usually go there when I’m in town. The staff is friendly, and it’s just before the dinner rush.”
“That sounds really good,” I say, leaving behind the stadium as we cross the parking lot.
“Perfect. We’ll swing by the hotel so I can change afterward, and then it’ll be game time,” Dad says. “You look like you’re freezing.”
While it’s slightly warmer outside, I can’t seem to stop shivering.
“I don’t know why,” I say. “It’s not as bad when I’m concentrating on something else, but I’m cold. I may change too. I have thermal leggings I can wear under ripped jeans. I’ll stay warm that way.”
“Warmth is better than cute fashion choices,” he teases me, unlocking the SUV doors.
“You’re right,” I chuckle, getting into the vehicle.
Dropping my bag at my feet, I pull on my seatbelt and snuggle into my sweatshirt. Dad does me a solid by turning up the heater, and soon I’m feeling much better. It’s almost as if someone installed an ice slab in my body.
The restaurant is just as cute and cozy as Dad suggested, and soon we’re tucked into a booth.
“I need to take this call now that you’re settled and the food is ordered,” Dad says, glancing at his phone. “Check the audio on your thing. I want to know if the rink is too loud for you to work.”
