“Bianca Alan, the team’s head athletic trainer. She needs?—”
“I heard what you said. I’m just trying to understand where or how this has become my responsibility.”
The coach didn’t move; his expression didn’t change. He sat there unwavering. “You have a two-bedroom condo and you live alone. The solution is obvious.”
“The solution is a hotel,” I said, getting up from the chair I was sitting in.
“There are many conferences in the city for the foreseeable future. Everything’s booked.”
“Extended stay then…”
“Not on her salary, and not for nine months.”
“Nine months?” I yelled, surprised at my outburst.
Coach sat there, his hands folded, resting on his desk, a small smile on his lips. “Callahan, I’m not asking for charity. This is a temporary housing arrangement for a staff member during an emergency. You have the space.”
My mind spun out of control at the entire thought of having someone in my space. My condo was my sanctuary. The one place in my life that belonged to me entirely. The only other people allowed were my teammates and only by invite. There was no media access, no fans, no expectations, and no one watching my every move. Just a controlled space where I could breathe.
Until now.
Coach wanted to put someone in it, and not just anyone. His daughter, the new trainer, someone who would watch my every move. She was also someone I had deliberately decided to keep a strictly professional relationship with because mixing personal and professional was a recipe for disaster.
“With respect, Coach, this seems like a bad idea.”
“Why is that?”
I thought for a moment without speaking. I had structured my entire life around maintaining control. I didn’t want someone else in my space.
“What do you think it will look like having your daughter move in with one of the star players? People will talk.”
“Let them. As I told her, you are both professional. You will keep to your space, and she will keep to hers. It will just be two adults sharing a space. It happens all the time.”
“It may, but not with the coach’s daughter and his star defenseman.”
Coach leaned forward. “Evan, I need to know my daughter has safe, appropriate housing. I need to know she isn’t commuting for ninety minutes each day, or burning through her savings in some overpriced extended-stay hotel. I also need someone I can trust to provide that housing without making it complicated.”
While his words should have felt like a compliment, they felt more like a trap.
“I, uh, value my privacy,” I said.
“As does Bianca, which is why this arrangement works.”
I could tell there wasn’t any room for argument as he reached for his tablet, turning the screen on, pulling up a document before looking at me.
“Ground rules. Separate bedrooms always, and I stress, always. I’d do my best to have you on separate schedules, butwe both know that probably won’t work. She will use the main bath, and you will maintain your space and bathroom off your bedroom. As adults, you can accommodate the shared use of the condo’s common areas as needed. She will hardly ever be home anyway. Training room hours are long, and not only is she committed to daily player care, she is also committed to off-ice player care programs. She will probably spend more time at the Lair than at your place. Then, of course, there are the games that you’ll be away, on the road.”
“When will she move in?” I asked.
“This weekend. Friday, she will bring her bags with her, and you will have to drive her to your place, of course. She picks up her car this weekend.”
I swallowed hard. I had three days. Three days to prepare myself.
“Fine,” I muttered, getting up.
“Callahan, I wouldn’t ask if there were another option. I also wouldn’t ask if I didn’t trust you could handle this.”
There was that word again. If there was one thing I knew about Coach Alan, it was that he didn’t give trust lightly, and when he did, it always came with expectations.
