ONE
DANE
Stepping into my cabin, I drop my luggage, take longs strides to the leather couch, sink in, and sigh.
A deep, heavy sigh. The kind that only comes after releasing the two tons of weight a man has been carrying around for too damn long.
Twenty-three players.
Three assistant coaches.
One pain-in-the-ass owner and his front office.
Countless fans.
Way too many reporters and arm-chair experts.
For the past nine months—hell, for the past three years—they’ve all demanded every second of my time and depended on me to make their dreams reality.
It’s the gig. It’s both the honor and the burden of being head coach of a professional hockey team.
But after a season plagued with injuries, player disputes, and my own damn stupidity, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat relieved we didn’t make it to the post-season.
Okay, that’s the lie.
Of course, I wanted to make it to the post-season. I did everything short of committing robbery or murder to take my team to the play-offs.
Yet, for the second year in a row, we fell short.
And now everything I’ve spent my life building hangs in the balance while said pain-in-the-ass owner decides whether or not he’s going to shit-can my ass.
They said they’d take a few weeks to make their decision.
Which is why, after barely making a pit-stop in the past few years, I’ve come back to the cabin I had built outside my hometown in Alaska back when I was still a player. It’s the place where I envisioned retiring to one day.
That day might be here sooner than I planned.
“It’s fine,” I tell myself, eyes closed while I take a breath to ward off the jolt of panic that sliced through me. “Whatever happens, I’ll be fine.”
I’ve built a nice nest egg. I’ve invested wisely. Even if I get fired, and no other team takes me on, I’ve made more than enough money to live out my life comfortably in this little piece of paradise. I don’t ever have to work again.
“But what the hell am I going to do with myself?”
The front door crashes open.
I open my eyes, sit upright, and have just enough time to brace myself as my ten-year-old nephew launches himself into my arms.
“Uncle Dane, Uncle Dane.” He gives my neck and shoulders a tight squeeze. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I don’t know why you’re surprised, Danny,” my younger sister, Devony, says with a laugh as she follows him inside. “I told you he’d be here.”
“Yeah, but he hasn’t been here in forever. I had to see it to believe it.”
My heart clenches at his words. I know he didn’t mean to send me on a guilt trip, but there it is. Hook. Line. Sinker.
“The kid is right,” I say, lifting my arms to give him a hug back. “It’s been too damn long since I’ve been here.”
“Language,” Devony snaps. “How many times do I have to remind you not to swear around your nephew?”
