Page 2

Chapter One

Cooper

Six Months Later

“ M otherfucker,” I growl into the phone as I slam on the brakes, my truck coming to a screeching stop a few feet away from its possible annihilation. I hear a loud moo and a chuffing sound from the Highland cow standing in the middle of the street as if chastising me for cutting it so close. If I were anywhere else in the world, it’d surprise me to see a fold of Scottish Highland cows crossing the street on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, but in Redwood Falls, this is a regular occurrence.

“What happened? Did you get in an accident? Hurt your knee? What’s going on, Coop?”

“Calm the fuck down, Remy.” I chuckle, throwing my truck into park and stretching out my leg. I wince slightly as I reach down and palm my knee. “I almost hit a cow.”

“A cow? Like with black spots and they produce milk?”

“No. One with horns and a long, tan shaggy coat,” I deadpan. I want nothing more than to finish this conversation and get out of this truck. It’s only a little over an hour’s drive from the city to Redwood Falls, but to say my knee isn’t happy at being stuck at a ninety-degree angle for so long would be an understatement.

“When in Hicksville, I guess,” Remy scoffs before getting back to his earlier lecture. “But, Coop, there’s no need to be so dramatic. This isn’t a banishment. The team thought this would give you more time to rehab your knee and think about their offer.”

Remy is the last person who should talk shit about Redwood Falls because he’s from here, just like me. Even though he’s a few years older than me, we spent almost all our time together growing up. The drawback of being raised in a small town is your parents’ friends’ kids are your friends. Thankfully, we had a lot in common, and he loved hockey just as much as I did. However, instead of going pro like me, he went to college. It’s been almost a decade since he last stepped foot in this town, but that’s a story for a different day.

“What’s there to think about? I either retire or get traded to some no-name team in Timbuktu to spend the rest of my days rotting on the bench.”

The last thing I expected when Coach called me into his office last week was this: an ultimatum. I’ve been playing for the Portland Timberwolves since I was drafted right out of high school. We’ve won the Stanley Cup three times and countless Western Conference Championships while I’ve been on the ice for this team. I’ve been captain for the last three years. I’ve done everything they’ve asked of me, but? it’s not enough for them anymore. A healthy hockey player is worth more to them than loyalty. The team is solid right now, but I need one more season. One more chance at the Stanley Cup. One last chance to pull my family back together.

“Coop, you're thirty years old.” I try to interject, but he cuts me off. “Thirty is old for a professional hockey player.” Remy sighs loudly into the phone. “You tore your ACL in the conference championship and have been in rehab for six months. Did you honestly believe Murphy was just going to sign off on you coming back to the team? The last thing any of us want is for you to re-injure your knee so quickly after surgery. He didn’t think you were ready. Can you honestly tell me you’re back to 100 percent?”

I don’t respond because, deep down, I know he’s right. When I went down during the conference finals last April, I knew what that indescribable pain meant. It meant that the end was closing in. That the next injury could mean the end of my career and life as I knew it. Ever since my meeting with Coach, that little voice keeps getting louder, reminding me that this is all I’ve ever known. If I’m not a Timberwolf, who am I? I never went to college like I tried to force my younger brothers to do. I don’t have a career or a degree to fall back on. Hockey is all I know. It’s all I’m good at. It’s the only way I know how to take care of all of them.

“I’m not na?ve enough to believe your silence means anything other than you’re done talking about this.”

“And the last thing anyone would call you is na?ve, Remy.”

“Exactly. Right now, all you need to focus on is continuing your rehab to make sure Murphy has no choice but to sign off on you getting back on the ice and leading this team.”

The team. Shit, I almost forgot. I had originally thought I could rehab for a few more months at home and then be back with the team before the playoffs, but the team is all about optics. What would be a better way to give me “time to think,”—their phrasing, not mine—than to coach a team with the Portland Timberwolves Hockey Club back in my hometown? Everyone knows about my injury at the end of last season, so this is the best option to cover their asses and explain why I’m not on the ice with my team at the start of the season. A nice sound bite for the team about their star player giving back to his community while he recuperates.

Everything was taken care of before I even stepped foot into that office. But I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had said no to this whole charade. Not like that would’ve happened. I’ve always put what is best for the team first. This time is no different.

“Easier said than done, Remy.”

“True. But if there is anyone in the world that could get it done, it’s you,” Remy says before hanging up the phone.

“Bye to you, too,” I mumble into the empty cab of my truck as I stare out the window, wishing for this line of cattle to end so I can get moving.

You’d think they’d have found some other way to get from one pasture to the other as the town expanded around it, but no such luck. Just like almost everyone else in this town, the cows are set in their ways. Not even an act of God will get them to find another route, not that Mr. Matthison has tried. “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it” has been his mentality since I was a teenager working on his farm, and I doubt it’s changed one bit.

I lay on the horn before sticking my head out the window and shouting, “Can you move a little faster? Some of us have places to be.”

“Are you expecting them to answer you?” a voice says, startling me.

“That would be terrifying,” I respond quickly, before turning toward the voice.

A woman sits atop a chocolate brown roan, the reins held loosely in her right hand as they stroll closer to my window. She looks at home in the saddle with a pair of aviator sunglasses resting on her cheeks, barely covering the tinge of pink under her golden-brown skin. Her hair hangs around her shoulder, twisted into long locks that look more like braids. There are a few golden clasps affixed to a few of them, placed strategically throughout her hair to draw in someone’s attention. And draw me in they did. Everything about her is calling to me, pulling me toward her in a way I’ve never felt with another human being. Okay, this isn’t good at all. The last thing I need right now is a distraction, even in the form of a beautiful woman.

I squint my eyes slightly as I lean forward, trying to place her face. I’m not the best with names, but I always remember a face. Surprisingly, I’m unable to place hers. It’s not uncommon for someone to move to Redwood Falls for a chance to get away from the city, but it doesn’t happen very often, especially without the whole town talking about it.

“Didn’t your momma teach you it's impolite to stare?” she quips as her horse pushes its nose through the space, rubbing against my hand.

“Hello, sweet girl,” I whisper, my eyes locked on her as I run my hand down the horse’s nose. “I don’t have anything good in here for you to eat, but if you ask your rider, maybe I can bring you some apples tomorrow.”

“She loves apples.” The corner of her mouth quirks up into a small smile before she continues. “The last of them should cross soon. Sorry for the holdup. All the locals know to stay off this road around lunchtime. The herd always crosses around this time.”

“Thanks for the information,” I respond with a smile.

It’s rare that I can go anywhere, let alone back home, and no one recognizes me. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before this beauty hears from someone that Cooper Hendrix has come home, but for now, I’m going to enjoy the anonymity.

“No problem. I’d stay away from here around dinnertime, as well. We will be on our way back before the sun goes down.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future…” My voice trails off. I’m hoping she’ll give me her name, but she says nothing, just a glimpse of her smile before she turns away from me toward the fold. “I better get a move on, or they’ll leave me behind.”

“And then what would we do?” I mumble, my eyes remaining locked on her as she ushers the last cow in the fold across the road before giving me a polite wave and continuing her journey.

The sound of my cell phone rings loudly through the cab, bringing me back to the present. I don't need to check the caller ID to know who's on the other end of the line.

“ What the hell are you doing?” Beau shouts as I put my truck into drive and continue toward home. “I understand you have one foot in the nursing home, but skipping the season to coach hockey back home? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

Those motherfuckers didn’t even give me a chance to tell the team myself at the exhibition game this weekend. I have no idea what I would have said to them, but they should’ve heard it from me. The least I expected was a chance to tell my family before any announcement was made.

“And why did I have to find out from Coach? You could’ve picked up the phone and called me, given me a heads-up, something. I’m more than just a teammate, Coop.”

And there’s the actual problem here. My brother got the information secondhand, and from our coach, of all people. I love my brother, but after being in the NHL for the last four years, he should understand how things work. The team only cares about the bottom line. If this information were to get out before they could put a spin on it, it would mess with their bottom line.

“Aren’t you glad you’ll no longer be the second-best Hendrix on the team?” I chuckle, trying to make light of the situation. “Besides, I only found out a couple of hours ago. I assumed they’d give me a chance to call you myself, but I guess I was expecting too much.”

“What the fuck did they do now?” Beau sighs loudly, his anger no longer directed at me.

“Basically, I’m being given the choice to retire at the end of the season or ride the bench for another franchise until my contract is over.”

“That’s complete and utter bullshit, Coop. They can’t really do this, can they?”

“My contract ends after next season. So, either I play with them, or I end up as a free agent at the end of the year. There’s no way that is going to end well for me or the team. Trading me is their best option if they no longer have faith in my ability to lead.”

“How are you so chill about this? Is Remy working on finding some loophole or something?”

The last thing I am is chill about any of this. However, there really isn’t much I can do unless Remy finds a loophole in my contract. However, if he hasn’t found anything yet, I doubt there’s anything for him to find. I’m going to have to find another way to remain a part of the Timberwolves.

I pull my truck onto a familiar street. “Or something. I don’t have a choice right now.”

“Look on the bright side: You get to have Mom’s cooking every night. Lucky bastard.”

“How about I see if I can get Mom to whip something up for me to bring to the exhibition game this weekend?”

Not like this will be a hard thing to make happen. My mom does nothing but feed us whenever we are home. We both end up going back to Portland with enough food to fill a fridge. Our mother seems to believe that we live off protein bars and unseasoned chicken, so she always sends us home with our favorite meals.

“As if that’s going to be hard. But I guess that means I won’t have to share mine when you run out this time.” I hear someone shout Beau’s name, and he sighs.

“Better get back to practice before Coach has you and the team doing suicide drills for the next hour.”

“Coach isn’t nearly as cruel as you are, Coop. No one is.” Beau lowers his voice low enough so only I can hear him. “What am I going to do without you on the ice with me?”

I’ve always been closer to Beau than my other brothers. We’re the closest in age, with only a two-year age difference between us. We played on a lot of the same teams growing up, had the same coaches, and we both love hockey more than anything, just like our dad. He wanted to follow me into the NHL when he turned eighteen, but I convinced him to go to college first, only after promising that we’d be on the ice together again when he graduated. He worked his ass off to get a degree and make it to the NHL.

“The same thing you did in high school, college, and the year you played for the AHL team. You got this, even if you are the second-best Hendrix.”

“Ha ha,” he says dryly as another one of our teammates shouts for him to get moving. “Talk to you later, bro. Tell Mom I love her and would love lasagna and snickerdoodles.”

“Will do, baby bro.” I shake my head as I pull into the driveway of my childhood home.

We’ve lived in the same house my entire life. It’s been in my family for years. Dad used to say that our families’ roots are tied to this house—a turn-of-the-century craftsman-style home that is almost a perfect blend of the original character from when it was built with some modern amenities included.

I barely have time to park my truck in the driveway before Momma steps out onto the covered porch, her arms crossed over her chest. Her round tortoise-shell glasses are pushed on top of her head, pushing back her shoulder-length wavy, dirty blonde hair with strands of silver running through it from her face. She has on a pair of dark-colored pants—not jeans—and a black-and-white shirt tucked neatly into the waistband.

“Look what the wind blew in.” She shakes her head, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

“Beau is such a momma’s boy,” I whisper under my breath as I climb out of the car and push the door shut.

“Don’t blame your brother for spilling the news. I knew long before he called me to tell me.”

I stare at her in surprise. I was inside my truck with the windows and door shut. How could she have possibly heard what I said?

“No, I’m not a mind reader. Redwood Falls is a small town. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know you were gonna be spending some more time in town? Hell, I probably knew before you did.”

“The joys of living in a small town,” I chuckle in response, striding up the stairs and wrapping my arms around my mom. “How you doin’, Momma?”

“Everything is just fine, or at least it would be if I knew you were going to be coaching a team for the hockey club.” She pushes her cheek in my direction, not bothering to look at me.

I lean down and plant a kiss on her cheek before resting my chin on her head. “I’m sorry you heard the news from someone else. I literally only found out a few hours ago. I took the drive to process.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” She pats my cheek slightly,motioning me closer so she can kiss my cheek before turning to head through the front door, leaving it open, knowing I’m right behind her.

“Take a seat on the sofa and relax. I’ll grab you a beer out of the fridge while I make you something to eat.”

“Beer?” I question, dropping onto the worn leather sofa as instructed.

My mom never keeps beer in the house unless she knows that Beau and I are coming home for a visit. She really must have known longer than I have. With both of my legs now firmly planted on the couch, I lean back, letting my eyes drift shut. I take a deep breath and sink into the couch cushions, relaxing for the first time since Coach called me yesterday, asking for us to meet. I need to be patient. There must be something I can do to convince Coach that I’m still an asset to the team. That I still belong on the ice with my brother and teammates, even if it’s only for one more season.

“You know better than to have shoes on my furniture, Cooper,” Momma chastises, pointing toward my feet as she heads to the fridge and pulls it open. “I have almost everything I need to make your favorite, chicken and dumpling soup. Do you mind swinging by the store for me and grabbing some carrots and celery?”

“You know I’ll do anything for your chicken and dumpling soup.” I push back to my feet and head toward the kitchen. “Is there anything else you need since I’m going? Beau requests lasagna and snickerdoodles when we go to the exhibition game this weekend in Portland. Although I have a feeling those are more for the team than him anyway.”

Momma focuses all her attention on the contents of her fridge. “I’m going to need some more butter for the cookies, crushed tomatoes, eggs, and parchment paper.”

“You’re planning on making noodles, too, aren’t you?” My mouth waters at the thought of having a meal completely made by my mother.

Momma was once a classically trained chef in another life, her life before my dad. I used to love hearing the story about how my parents met at some fancy restaurant in Seattle, but she doesn’t tell it as much as she used to because it hurts her too much. It hurts us all too much.

“You’re going to make extra to keep here at the house? You know how much I love your lasagna.”

“What my babies want my babies get.” She flashes me a smile before closing the door. “I’m going to need to make an extra batch of cookies, too, aren’t I?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I laugh, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “I don’t remember you being so accommodating when we were younger.”

“Of course not. I refused to raise any of you to be spoiled brats.” She huffs before heading for the pantry, ready to get started on the broth for the soup. “Now that my job is done, I have every intention of spoiling you rotten, especially with you both being so close.”

I shake my head at her before heading out the front door and climbing back into my truck. My knee protests slightly as I climb in, but I manage it. I’m going to need to do my stretches and ice it before bed. I didn’t plan on spending so much time in the truck today, but it couldn’t be helped. The Highland cow population of Redwood Falls must get from pasture to pasture somehow, right?

As I pull out of the driveway, the image of the beauty from earlier today flashes through my mind, catching me by surprise. Sure, she was beautiful, but what is it about her I can’t forget? What makes the small interaction I had with her stick out in my mind? I rarely pay attention to the opposite sex. It’s not for lack of companionship, that’s for sure. Being a professional athlete has its perks, but I decided early in my career that anything to do with the opposite sex, relationships especially, wasn’t my thing.