Are we chasing each other because we deeply feel this connection or because it’s a welcome distraction from our demons? I think that might be my biggest fear—that he’sunknowingly using me as a crutch to help him through the most stressful time in his life.
That’s why I think waiting until the season’s over is the best idea. It gives us both time to process and focus on the task at hand without distractions. I mean, getting into a new relationship in the midst of the Stanley Cup semifinals is a horrible idea. As his coach, I highly advise against it. As the girl he’s pursuing, I’m torn.
It’s complicated. I know everyone says that about their relationship, especially when there’s a clear solution that both parties are ignoring but it's the truth. What if we give it a shot right now and it goes horribly wrong? It could ruin his headspace and cost the team the win. Huang’s a great goalie, but he’s young, and he hasn’t experienced the pressures of this level of competition.
I’m not saying he wouldn’t succeed, but that’s a lot of pressure to put on a rookie goalie, fresh out of two years of NCAA hockey. Besides, I want Matt to be focused and homed in on his craft. I want this win for myself too. It would be a point in my journey where I once again found victory in the arena. Not as a player or athlete, but a coach.
Kyle is happily trotting along as I continue to mentally ramble, thinking, overthinking, and then overthinking some more. I’ve thought myself in constant circles by the time we reenter the apartment and I unhook a worn-out Kyle, who beelines it to the water bowl.
My phone chimes, and I check the message, expecting it to be a Zoom link for my therapy session today, but it’s not. Lorea’s sick and heading out of the office for the rest of the day, and my appointment will be rescheduled to next week.
I sigh, relieved I can just relax. I love her and talking with her, but sometimes, I just don’t want to.
Kicking my shoes off, I stride down the hallway toward my bedroom and grab a change of clothes so I can take a quick shower and wash the travel and walk off my body. Kyle follows along, always a foot from me wherever I go.
He curls up on the bathroom floor as I start the shower, reaching behind the curtain. But when I twist the handle, only a few drops come out.
What the hell?
Turning it off, I try it again, hoping I turned it wrong somehow.
No water comes out this time.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
CHAPTER 14
MATT
I’m totally not jealousat all, but Shay has been helping Huang all practice, and I feel like I’m losing my mind. Am I doing so great that I don’t need her focus? Am I doing so poorly that she doesn’t want to waste her time? I just need her to tell me how I’m doing.
To be frank, I know I’m killing it. Only Costy has gotten a goal by me, but that’s because he’s the best forward on the team and he knows how to work me. And he had luck at his side.
Honestly, putting my childish jealousy aside, I’m so goddamn proud of her. She is a coach. She doesn’t just look the part. She’s not faking it until she makes it; she’s already there. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Coach Carrington, our hands-on head coach, blows his whistle for a three-minute water break, and I waste no time skating over toward the bench, where Andy has his head buried in his iPad, studying film.
“No notes for me, Ave?” I chuckle, leaning over the board to talk to him.
A smirk forms on his lips before his eyes flick up to mine. “Perfection, MacArthur. As always.”
A haughty laugh I know well sounds on the other end of the bench, and I turn just in time to see Huang skating over and Shay walking across the rubber to sit next to Andy.
“Do you have notes for me, Rooney? Always happy for feedback when it’s needed.” I smirk, and Huang shakes his head, laughing before gliding to the bench and walking through, probably off to take a piss.
Shay crosses her arms, and my eyes take a mental photograph, committing her to memory. Her long auburn locks are pulled up in a high ponytail that swishes across her shoulder blades. She’s wearing black joggers and a Nighthawks collared zip-up. She’s seriously the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. No matter what she’s wearing.
She raises her hands in defeat. “You’re doing great.” I can practically hear the silentbut. “But if it were me, I wouldn’t have let Costy’s goal in.”
Andy snorts loudly, clearly not planning it. He cough-laughs, trying to cover it up, but it’s too late for that, and besides, when I look back at Shay, she’s standing as tall as ever, confident in her statement.
All right, prove me wrong.
“It was a good shot. I took his bait.”
She nods sharply. “Like a starving fish.”
I click my tongue against my teeth. “Damn, Rooney. Tell me what I did wrong. What the great Shay Rooney would’ve done.”
