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“You guys looked awfully cozy.” A voice comes from behind me.
I look over my shoulder to find Steph and Tori standing a few feet away. Tori smiles but Steph still appears to be sour about the altercation between Declan and Noah.
“Oh, hey guys. How have you been?” I ask, giving them both a friendly smile.
Steph crosses her arms. “Not as good as you, apparently.”
“Steph, come on,” Tori whispers, looking annoyed at her friend.
Steph ignores her and continues, “So, this is how you get the coaches to take Noah’s side?”
“Steph!” Tori gasps and steps away from her.
Steph’s accusation feels like a physical slap. I’m not sure whether to cry or slap her back. I clench my hands at my sides, just to be sure I don’t actually slap her. After a beat, I decide there’s no use in arguing or fighting with someone who’s opinion clearly cannot be swayed.
“I’m sorry you think so little of my character, Steph,” I tell her with no anger, no mirth, then turn and walk away. Because oftentimes, walking away is the best thing you can do.
During practice, I watch Mitch intently, noticing how different he is a month into coaching. Not only is he more patient with the boys, but I think he’s earned their respect… a little. I mean, they’re still getting into fights, but I haven’t seen any of what Mitch calls hooking. And when he speaks—with authority but not anger—the boys stop and listen to him. I’m impressed by how far the boys have come, and how far Mitch has come. At times, I can see him struggling not to get angry and yell at them, I can see him close his eyes and take a few deep breaths, possibly practicing his breathing.
I’m curious to see if they’ll stay in line when the other coach is back at the end of the week. My stomach sinks at the thought of not seeing Mitch at practices. This whole month we’ve been forced into seeing each other several times a week, and now we’ll have to be intentional about it. Choosing to make time for each other. And will he make time for me? Can he make time for me?
My thoughts are interrupted when Noah slams Declan into the boards, steals the puck and passes it to his teammate who scores a goal. Declan rushes over to Noah and shoves him, making him fall on his butt. Noah gets back on his feet, his eyebrows drawn, and skates after Declan. He shoves Declan from behind and he stumbles on his skates. Both of them pull their arms back as if they’re about to punch each other, but Mitch skates over in the nick of time and places himself between the two boys. Using his large hands, he holds them as far away from each other as he can. They both calm down, but are still scowling at each other. Mitch’s face is red and he looks irritated, but he doesn’t yell or lash out at them. Instead, he says something to them sternly. They both skate off toward the bench and quietly sit down. Noah and Declan sit there with their backs toward each other while they cool down.
Okay, things aren’t perfect. But they’re better… I think.
CHAPTER 24
MITCH
Early Tuesday morning, I’m at the rink for team practice, except I arrived an hour before everyone else. I’m so amped up for my first game back tomorrow, I couldn’t sleep anyway. I’ve been to all the Eagles practices during my suspension, but without the games, I don’t feel like I’ve really used my strength and agility the way I should be. There’s something about the arena, the music, the cheering crowd, that makes you work harder and power through the games.
I’m enjoying the quiet rink, doing skating drills on my own, when I spot the bane of my existence, Max. He’s standing behind the bench and waves a hand, gesturing for me to come over and chat. Why he’s awake, bright eyed, and dressed immaculately in a dress shirt and slacks at seven in the morning, I have no idea. And why he wants to talk to me? Also no clue, but I don’t like it.
I skate over and he greets me, “Mitch Anderson, just the person I was hoping to see.” He waits for me to come to a stop, eyeing me with a stern expression punctuated by his crappy haircut.
“Max. What did you need?” I ask, glancing back at the ice as if to silently tell him I have work to do.
He sighs heavily. “Well, you see, the whole reason I had you coach a youth hockey team during your suspension was to rebuild your image.”
“I remember.”
“Well, another photo of you and hockey mom is circulating.” His expression doesn’t change with the accusation, he just stares at me blankly.
“Hockey sister. And I guess it’s a good thing I’m not coaching anymore.” I stare at him with the same blank expression he’s giving me. He obviously doesn’t know much, because Andie isn’t even a mom. But whatever. I really need to find a new agent.
“Mitch, you know the press will link her to the Washington Wombats and make all kinds of crazy accusations. You’ve been around long enough to know this.”
“We haven’t even gone on a date.” Yet, I think, but don’t say it out loud. “I’m done coaching the Wombats, my mental health is better… I don’t know what more you want from me.”
“I’m going to be straight with you, you’re not getting any younger. And the only company who has reached out to collaborate with you is Franklin Distilleries. Which apparently isn’t good enough for you. Just stay out of trouble until I can get you some new opportunities. After you gain a few sponsors, you can hook up with all the hockey moms you want to.”
I clench my teeth and take a deep breath. I will not lash out at this infuriating man. “Hockey sister. And there’s only one. Thanks for the chat, but I gotta get back to work.”
In for seven… out for eleven.
His jaw clenches. “Alright. Have a good day, Mitch.”
I grunt, starting back on my drills, but I’m fuming. I’ve watched guys on our team sneak women into their hotel rooms for years, even with a different girl every night. And I get berated for seeing a mature, responsible adult that I genuinely like. Max can kiss my ass, along with all of his sponsorships.
