I glided over to the boards where Coach stood with the blond guy. Damn, he was young. He barely looked older than me, maybe just a few years? How the hell could he teach me anything?
“Adan Rivera, meet Nils Anders. Coach Anders is from Sweden originally, and he’s going to be working with you on individual skills development.”
Coach Anders extended his hand with a polite smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Adan. I’ve watched your game footage. You’re talented.”
His accent was subtle but definitely there, and his handshake was firm. I looked him up and down, not bothering to hide my skepticism. “So you’re the guy who’s supposed to fix me?”
“I’m not here to fix anything.” Coach Anders smiled at me. “Fixing implies something is broken. My goal is to fine-tune, help refine your skills and maximize your potential. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” I crossed my arms, aware that some of my teammates were watching from across the ice. At least I was eye to eye with him with my skates on. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like the coaches think I need help.”
“The coaches think you have NHL potential,” Coach Anders replied, his tone staying calm despite my attitude. “They want to ensure you live up to it.”
“And you think you can do that?”
“I think we can work together to identify areas for improvement, yes.”
Areas for improvement.Like I was some kind of project instead of the leading scorer on the team. “What makes you qualified to coach me? You ever play professionally?”
Something flickered in Coach Anders’ eyes, too quick for me to read. “I played center at college level. Rideau University in Ottawa.”
“You played for the Rideau Ravens?” That got my attention. Rideau was a powerhouse program that had sent multiple players to the NHL.
“I was the starting center for two seasons.”
Okay, that was actually impressive, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easy. “And now you’re coaching college players in America instead of playing professionally. Why?”
“Adan.” Coach Brennan’s voice carried a warning.
But Coach Anders held up a hand. “It’s a fair question.” He looked at me directly, those blue-green eyes steady. “Halfway through my last season, I tore my ACL in my right knee. That ended my college career prematurely, unfortunately, but making it to the NHL was never my goal. I found that I enjoyed the strategic aspects of hockey as much as the playing, and that’s why I majored in sports coaching. Coaching allows me to help players reach their potential while still being involved in the game I love.”
It was a diplomatic answer, but there was something in his tone that made me think there was more to the story. Still, I wasn’t ready to back down. “So what’s your big plan for me? Some fancy European system?”
“Why don’t you show me what you can do first?” Coach Anders suggested. “Then we can discuss where to go from there.”
I glanced around the rink. Most of the team was here now, and they were all watching this little standoff. Tank gave me a subtle nod. He had my back, whatever happened.
“Fine.” I pushed off from the boards. “But when I’m done, you show me what you’ve got. Fair?”
Coach Anders’ eyebrows rose slightly. “You want me to demonstrate?”
“Hell yeah. If you’re gonna coach me, I want to see you can actually play.”
Coach Brennan looked like he wanted to intervene, but Coach Anders nodded. “That seems reasonable.”
I grabbed a puck and started skating, letting my instincts take over. I’d been showing off my skills since I was twelve years old, and I knew exactly what impressed people. Speed, power, precision. I deked around invisible d-men, fired shots at the empty net, showed off the stick handling that had been getting me noticed since junior hockey.
When I finished, I was breathing hard but satisfied. Let the fancy European match that.
“Very impressive,” Coach Anders said, and he sounded like he meant it. “Your acceleration is excellent, and your shot has real power behind it.”
“Thanks.” I waited for the ‘but.’ Coaches always had a ‘but.’
“No ‘but’,” Coach Anders said, surprising me. “That was genuinely impressive. But I’m curious. How do you think you’d do in a one-on-one situation against someone with more experience?”
The challenge was subtle but unmistakable. Heat flashed through my chest. “Bring it on.”
Five minutes later, Coach Anders was suited up in spare gear, looking completely comfortable on the ice. He moved with the fluid grace of someone who’d spent years playing at a high level, not the awkward movements of a coach who’d never been that good as a player. Okay, so he had some skills. Didn’t mean he had something to teach me.
