My drive to the arena doesn’t lessen my nerves and as I pull up to the entrance, I know immediately it’s going to be a different type of insanity today. The media is already set up to take pictures of the guys arriving. They have not made a secret of it; they are watching my every fucking move. I pull up and stop my car when I see Clive walking out of his office, a big smile on his face. “Hey, Coach,” he greets and slaps my arm, “you excited about tonight?”
“I’m not the one on the ice,” I tell him, hitting his arm. As I walk into the building, I hear a couple of the reporters calling my name and I just ignore them, walking in.
I head to my office, taking off my jacket and loosening my tie before I head over to the coaches’ room. There is a long table in the middle of the room, one wall has three screens on it, and the other two beside it to show us replays. Then there is the whiteboard with the players’ name written on it with what line they are on.
I take a second to stare at it. “Hey.” I look over my shoulder at Jaxon, who walks into the room. I have to say, for the last month, I’ve been waiting for him to walk into the room and deck me for sleeping with his younger sister. It feels like I’m standing in the middle of the room with a ticking time bomb in my hand, and it’s about to explode every single time. That night, after she called me and she refused to tell me how old she was, I lay in bed trying to think of how old she could be. Did I know she was younger than me? Of course, but did I know she was just fucking graduated young? No, I thought for sure she was in her mid-to-late-twenties. I did not think she had just fucking graduated university. I closed my eyes and even called myself an old pervert for sleeping with her to begin with. I know I need to focus on one thing and one thing only – winning this game. Victoria Stevenson should be the farthest thing from my mind.
“How you doing?” Jaxon asks me, bringing me back to reality, as I look at the door and then back at him. He is usually the first one who gets here, going to work out before everyone else.
“Like I’m going to yack all over the fucking place.” I turn back to look at him. “If it’s not too much pressure, I’d really like to win tonight,” I tell him and he laughs.
“I’ll see what I can do. How’s this, we win, you join us at the bar tonight?”
I groan, “I didn’t even like going to the bar when I was your age. You think I want to go to the bar at my age?”
“You’re about six years older than me, so you can relax with the whole when I was your age,” he states, making me chuckle. “What do you say?”
Cam heads into the room, holding a coffee cup in his hand, wearing a light gray suit, even though the coaching staff talked about it and we decided to be unified with wearing black suits. “What do you say about what?”
“We win, Coach is joining us at the bar,” Jaxon says, slapping my shoulder and squeezing it. “I’m going to go and hit the gym.” He walks out of the room and leaves me with Cam.
“You think that’s a good idea?” he asks me, and I just look at him.
“Bonding with the team?” I ask him. “Yeah, I think it’s a good idea.” He raises his eyebrows, not saying a word. “What’s up with your suit choice?”
“What do you mean?” he asks me when Eric comes in and he’s wearing a dark-blue suit.
“Was I the only one who got the memo to wear a black fucking suit?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips.
“Wait, what?” Eric questions. “Cam said—” My eyes go to Cam.
“I thought you were joking,” he says, avoiding looking at me as he looks at the board. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“It matters,” I mumble to him and then I call his name, “Cam.” He looks up at me. “Don’t do that shit again.”
“What shit?” he replies defensively. “I thought you were joking about it, my mistake.”
I don’t say anything else because he turns to walk out of the room. “Sorry, Coach,” Eric says, “I should have checked with you.”
“No big deal. What do you think?” I ask Eric, looking at the board. “Think we have the lines worked out?”
He looks at the board, seeing the names of the roster split up. “Yeah, I think we start with this and rework it once we see what happens on the ice. It worked for preseason.”
“Now is when it counts,” I remind him, and then he walks out of the room. I stand here looking at the names as if willing the board to tell me if it’s right or not. I walk out when I hear the roar of the crowd, knowing the players are taking the ice for the pregame skate. I walk down the hallway to the tunnel and stand here looking out, seeing the fans lined up at the ice with their signs. I see a couple of the players going to see their family, and I force myself to not look and see if she’s here. Instead, I turn around and head to my office.
Ken is there waiting beside my door, talking to Brad, the VP of hockey operations for the team. He’s basically everyone’s boss. “Hey, Coach,” Brad says, stepping forward, “just coming to wish you luck. All eyes are going to be on you tonight.”
“I don’t know why,” I retort, “all eyes should be on the team.”
“You would be wrong,” Brad replies, turning and walking away.
“He’s a tough nut to crack,” I say as he stops and chats with Cam, who shakes his hand and the two of them chuckle. “Apparently not to everyone, maybe it’s just a me thing.” My stomach gets tight.
“He’s been on the fence about you,” Ken admits. “He thought it would be better to have someone with more experience in there, but Martin was firm on choosing you and handing the team over to you.”
“Good to know,” I mumble as the guys come back in off the ice. “Time to announce the lines,” I say to Ken. “See you out there.”
He nods at me as I walk into my office, grabbing my jacket and putting it back on before I grab the paper with the lines, even though I know I have them memorized like the back of my hand.
