At twenty-nine, I was at a turning point in my career. And the next three to six months were going to decide my fate.
After his career-ending knee injury, I knew Zane understood exactly what I was up against. Still, I didn’t mention that, not knowing how much of a sore spot it was for him, even after landing a coaching job many could only dream of.
I didn’t know how much of a dream come true this job was for him when it’d been his only palatable choice.
I opted for banter instead. “Fuck off. I like the beach. The warm sand and waves and all that shit.”
I mean, I used to, when I was younger and my parents would take our family on road trips down to Myrtle Beach every summer.
The way I’d babied my shoulder these past few years meant I’d spent the off-season doing physio exercises rather than lounging around in a tropical paradise.
“Very convincingand all that shit.The scenery definitely has my vote any day. Better than a room full of sweaty rookies. But you still can’t beat the company here in Lakeside.”
Zane smiled his winning grin that made more puck bunnies swoon than he could keep up with.
Even two years out of the league, he still got all the same attention when we went out as he did when he was a star defenseman of the Titans.
I rolled my eyes. His tenacity had gotten him far in his lifetime. It had landed him one of the highest-value contracts in the NHL for his position, and it made him the youngest head coach in AHL history.
And now, it looked like it had gotten him my company for as long as I was kept off the ice this season.
“Fine,” I groaned. “But I’m telling you right now, this is a stupid idea. You already have two assistant coaches, by the way.”
“I don’t think so, Landry. I’m getting the equivalent of a full-time co-coach for at least the next twelve to twenty-four weeks. So, what if I already have two assistant coaches? You think more help for this young team is a bad thing?” Letting those rhetorical questions hang in the air between us, he moved closer to me and held out his hand to have us shake on it officially. His brown eyes shone with enthusiasm. “Better than that, I’m getting Asher ‘The Ace’ Landry. The board is going to looove me.”
“Okay, I see how it is. You want me here to make money off whatever shreds of clout my name brings in, in terms of dollar signs. Way to make your best friend feel loved,Coach,” I bit out the last words.
“Hey, hey! Let’s not be hasty, throwing around accusations. First of all, fuck all that self-loathing bullshit about your name not meaning anything. You’ve got an injured shoulder. One that is healing, I might add. Let’s not call time of death on your career prematurely. Next, we both know that professional hockey is a money-maker first, and a celebration of talent second. So, if we can make the investors happy, then I’m not going to apologize for having one less thing to worry about. Plus, it’s not like I missed your face and want to spend time with you while I can, or anything.” Zane gently elbowed my side for emphasis, cautious of jostling my injury.
I had to admit, it felt damn good to be able to say yes to a buddy who’d been a loyal friend to me throughout the majorityof my career. I knew he was pulling this stunt to keep the “what ifs” out of my head while I healed.
You’ve injured your AC joint for the third time. You think that will magically heal in three months and leave you pain-free? You’re balanced on the razor’s edge of a career-ending injury, and you know it.
I shook the negative voice from my mind, trying to muster a fraction of the pleased reaction Zane was having to my decision.
His gaze turned shrewd, which meant only irritating things were coming my way if his mind was already in planning mode.
“Since we’re getting a hometown hero as our guest co-coach, I’m going to let you be the one to tell the boys about the one-drink limit on non-game nights!” Zane sent me a wink, slapped my good shoulder, and booked it to the admin area. “I’ll go get them to deal with the management. You have that agent of yours work some PR magic. Welcome to the Hammerheads!” he called over his shoulder.
“Well, Potato, of all the questionable things I could have done right now, I decided to put myself at the mercy of Zane Wilder.”
Back in my downtown Toronto condo on the lakeshore, I turned my head from where it was resting on the back of the couch to see my furry companion better.
Potato, the rescue feline in question, watched me from his favorite cushion. A pair of alert yellow eyes looked back at me, standing out against his midnight black fur.
After five years, Potato had seemingly moved on from his demon cat adolescence into a more serene, but judgmental, adulthood.
“I know,” I argued against his non-verbal disappointment. “But listen, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that we’d have to move, okay? Even you can’t resist Zane.”
Poe yawned his acknowledgment of my point. He was one of those super selective pets who only liked about three people in the world, choosing to hide under my bed whenever anyone else came to visit.
Not that I had guests often, other than family. Hockey players were a superstitious bunch. It never failed to make me chuckle to see the horrified face of a new teammate when I mentioned owning a black cat.
My teammates stayed far away from my condo sanctuary. It was an unintentional, but not unwelcome, side effect of adopting Poe.
Sure, I had my rituals like everyone else. But other than the routine I kept before each game, I wasn’t paranoid enough to think Poe would affect anything other than being solely responsible for lowering my blood pressure levels.
“We’ll rent something nice in Lakeside, I promise. You’ll have all these new spaces to explore and uninterrupted access to hide your toys in the most ridiculous places.”
