“Yeah, fine, just a little tired.”
“Sorry again about this weekend. The vet really thought Alice would hold off until after the semis, but, well, Mother Nature has herown schedule.”
I nod, and a small smile creeps onto my face. Only Maynor would name his poodle Alice.
“How is she?”
“Surprisingly fine. Six puppies, all doing well. My mother is working from home to keep an eye on them, and so far, besides a few restless nights, everyone’s acclimating.”
“Glad to hear it.” I pull my lips in, watching the first few kids leisurely jog around the black line that paints the perimeter of the gym.
“And you tied. Johnny said it was a miracle on ice, and Mr. Peterson was a great pinch hitter.”
Mr. Peterson. Harry. I suck in a gulp of air and slowly push it out of my pursed lips.
“What, was he not? Did something happen?”
Over the past three years, since he started helping me with the hockey team, Maynor and I have become friends. He’s invited me over for dinner countless times. Two years ago, when his wife passed, his mother came to support him and never left. She makes the most amazing chicken pot pie. When she tried to set me up with a woman she works with, and I politely declined, she didn’t hesitate—without missing a beat, she suggested a male coworker instead.
My eyes close as the chatter of the few kids left in line at the fountain mixes with the squeaks of shoes on the gym floor, making my head spin. I open my mouth, wanting to say something but unsure how to find the words.
“Oh. Listen, Coach,” he says, but Hugh, taking his first lap, lingers by the exit, and Maynor needs to attendto him. “On my way back to class, I’m going to drop Lexi at the nurse, take Hugh back to Mrs. Kipp, and come back. You sit. Get a drink. Take some deep breaths. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
A lump forms in my throat, heavy and tight, as I try to swallow the emotion. On the ice, Maynor may be my assistant, but between being fifteen years older and having way more sense of calm than I could ever muster up, it often feels like he’s the one in charge of me.
Maynor wrangles the fifth graders into a line, taking control of the chaos. With the fountain empty, I fill my water bottle, trying to ignore the buzz of energy as he manages them. I’ve got about fifteen minutes before the next class arrives, so I take a seat on the edge of the bleachers, letting my mind settle for a second. It’s quiet for a moment, just the faint echo of sneakers in the hallway and kids’ voices fading as Maynor ushers them out. I lean back, running through the situation in my head, trying to catch my breath.
Then Maynor’s back, his presence like a shift in the air. He slumps down next to me and takes a breath before glancing at his watch.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes before your next class starts and my ass needs to be back to Mrs. Kipp. So, Hill, we can sit here in silence, you can hem and haw saying nothing, or you can spill it.”
“Twelve minutes.” I glance at my watch. “You were lollygagging.”
This elicits a smirk from him, but he quickly wipes it away and forces his stern face back.
“Darius.”
My first name. He means business.
“Something did happen in Rhode Island.”
He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.
“With Peterson. Mr. Peterson. Harry. The English teacher.”
“I'm aware of who he is.”
“Turns out there was only one room left at the hotel, and that room only had one bed. And, well . . .”
“Well, what? You and I have shared beds on plenty of away games.”
He’s really going to make me say it.
“Yeah, but I don't have a massive crush on you, Applegate.”
“Thank goodness for that. You're so not my type.”
A laugh escapes my lips, grateful he's making light of the situation.
