She looks incredibly annoyed, which is great because that’s exactly what I was going for. I glance over at Mike and Dave, who seem to have caught on to my game and are both trying to hide smiles. Winnie glares at me. “I give you permission to remove all the drywall you spent the morning tearing down. Happy now?”
“Delighted,” I reply and give her a wink, which makes her hands ball up into fists at her side. I motion toward the heap of drywall again. “You sure you don’t want to take a swing at that? Break up a few of the bigger pieces. I know you said you aren’t angry but that look on your face—”
She’s stomping back upstairs before I can finish my sentence. She’s more than a little bit gorgeous when she’s furious, which doesn’t make me want to stop annoying her. Mike chuckles as he walks by me with an armload of debris. “She’s a firecracker,” he says. “You keep playing with that you’re going to get burned.”
“Yeah or have your dick blown off,” Dave adds and grins. “Get it? Firecracker.”
“Don’t quit your day job, Dave,” Mike mutters and I nod as I follow him out the front door to the bin he brought over here this morning.
As we’re outside hauling our second load of debris, Winnie emerges from the screened porch and grabs her bike from the side of the house. I give her a look, like a judgmental father. She looks sheepish for a fraction of a second before she goes back to glaring at me. “I hope you’re done by the time I get back.”
“I’ve gotta be outta here by four, if that helps,” Mike says.
“Only helps if you take him with you,” Winnie replies, hops on the bike and pedals off. I try not to worry about her having another wipeout. It’s not my business, but yet…it’s in the back of my mind.
After she’s disappeared around the corner, I turn to Mike. “Dude, I was hoping we’d work longer today.”
“I have to go to practice,” he explains, wiping his brow with his meaty forearm. “I’m an assistant coach for the Portland Pirates now.”
I blink. The Portland Pirates is the hockey team my nephew Duke is on. “Since when?”
“Since the guy they had was caught drinking at the preseason tournament last week,” Mike explains. “He was totally drunk during one of the games. You know my kid plays for them and they’re already short on coaches. They should have two assistants and they only had this douche.”
“Wow. I didn’t know.” I scratch my beard and try to ignore the ache in my chest. If Bradie trusted me or even just liked me, she would have told me about that kind of thing. “What do you have to do to coach?”
“Take a test and have experience,” Mike explains and then he looks a little uncomfortable as he adds, “And have no criminal record.”
“I don’t have a criminal record,” I explain because my past has been widely exaggerated by the small town rumor mill. “I have a sealed juvenile record.”
Mike looks shocked, which I’m annoyingly used to by now. We head back inside to grab another load of debris as Dave passes us carrying a load out. “Oh, I thought…sorry. So yeah, you could be a coach. You would be excellent at it. You’ve got a ton more experience than most of us. Hell, you were a heartbeat from the NHL.”
I haven’t had that fact thrown at me in a long time, but it still stings when I hear it. It’s not Mike’s fault though so I just nod and push it down to that place in my gut that’s overflowing with regrets. I put my work gloves back on and grab some of the drywall. “I’d love to apply or whatever, if you really have an opening.”
Mike pauses, pulls off his work gloves and takes his phone out of this back pocket. “I’m emailing you the head coach’s info right now. Bruce Skelton. You might know him.”
I do know him. He was about five years older than me but played with Jude and me in the summer league here when we were kids. I give Mike a thankful nod and go back to hauling out the mess. This is the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Duke, and hopefully force Bradie into seeing me in a better light. And honestly, I never thought of coaching hockey before but now that I am thinking of it, I am excited by the idea. My love for the game has never faltered, even when my chance to play professionally disappeared. I would love the opportunity to get out there and be involved with hockey again.
The rest of the day is grueling, but we get more accomplished than I expected. The kitchen is basically a shell and will be ready tomorrow for the electrician I’m bringing in to rewire everything. As Mike and Dave leave, I lock up the house and then open the email Mike sent me and call Bruce. He not only remembers me and sounds happy to hear from me, he’s thrilled with the idea that I want to coach. I find myself wandering up the street to the beach as we talk. He says he’ll send me the application and the test and if all goes well I can start next week.
I get off the phone feeling excited for the first time in a long time. I’ve spent months just busting my ass at work, planning, budgeting, worrying about getting this business off the ground. I haven’t done a thing that was pure enjoyment. Coaching feels like a treat and I get to be around Duke. From what I can see so far, he’s a great kid and I’m looking forward to really getting to know him.
My muscles ache and I’m drenched in sweat, but I feel good. Instead of showering, I decide, fuck it. I’m going for a swim. The beach is basically deserted. There’s an old guy way at the other end with his dog and I can see the tops of two heads near the dunes really far at the other end. No one will notice that I’m just in underwear so fuck it. I bend down, pull my feet out of my work boots and socks and then start undoing my jeans. I wore black boxer briefs today so that helps. I leave everything in a heap and break into a run across the warm sand.
10
Winnie
Holy shit, he is stripping,” Cat exclaims suddenly, pulling my attention from the lobster roll I’m devouring. I look up and follow the tilt of her head. “Check out at that body. He’s a work of art. Oh and speaking of art, tattoos! I love tattoos. Oh God, I hope he thinks this is a nude beach.”
Cat has no idea who he is, but I do. I recognized him instantly, even from this distance. And I find myself wishing he thought it was a nude beach too, which is why I’m blushing. Cat gets to her knees on our blanket, but I grab her arm. “What? I think I should introduce myself. I can offer him my lobster roll…or anything else he wants.”
“You know him,” I tell her. “That’s Holden Hendricks.”
Cat’s mouth drops open and her head spins around to look again, squinting as she examines him. He’s running directly at the ocean and he doesn’t slow down, even though I know the water must be frigid. It’s always cold. His muscular arms extend above his head and he dives into an oncoming wave.
“What the fuck.” Cat gasps. “Why does he get to be the hottest thing in this town? He’s a dick! Why can’t it be a nice, sweet boy who gets nearly naked on the beach and makes me want to give him my virtue and my lobster roll.”
Internally I ask the universe the same question, but out loud I say, “Never give up your lobster roll, Cat. To anyone.”
