Page 35 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

He was jet-lagged as fuck and fighting back an anxiety attack, but he was here.

The shock still clung to him as he stood near the ice, close enough to feel the chill seeping into his aching leg. Just three steps—that’s all it would take to cross onto NHL ice. Three steps between him and the dream he’d carried his whole life.

“Killinger.”

“Noted,” said Adams. “But that’s not why I want to talk to you. I’m sure you’ve heard about me, but I wanted to confirm that I’m not a typical coach since I’m on the autism spectrum.”

Harrison had heard, but wasn’t sure how to respond to this reveal.

“Paying attention to the smallest details is how I’ve made my career. I can look at players’ stats, run scenarios in my head, create multiple strategies and plan training schedules, but I am lacking in one area. And that area is connecting with people, communicating and understanding their needs.”

Harrison nodded. “That puts you in a tough spot as a coach.”

The fans were amping up. They were about to drop the puc k

“Exactly,” said Adams. “I observe people and make mental diagnostics like a computer and place them where we need to walk away with a victory, but the system is flawed. I didn’t know that Jett was struggling because of his personal life.

I thought such a sudden drop in his skills was unrealistic, but I didn’t have the correct information to know how to fix it.

Bracken did, that’s why he informed me about what was happening and bought those tickets to get you here.

I don’t understand Jett’s mental instabilities, but I do understand that having you here will help him.

I would be grateful if you could join me behind the bench to watch Jett and tell me what you think he needs.

I want to do everything I can to help him overcome this roadblock he’s driven himself into. ”

“I don’t think that’s allowed,” said Harrison.

“I’ve already registered you as a consultant,” said Adams. “As soon as Bracken confirmed that you accepted the tickets, I quickly ensured you had access.”

Harrison had a feeling that even though he was being asked, it was more of a formality. His time with Jett had been a favour he now owed the Coach, and it appeared Adams was looking to collect.

“Alright,” said Harrison. He held his arm out, gesturing for him to lead the way to the bench.

Coach Adams had someone hand Harrison a headset as soon as they were inside the box, and he tried to keep his hands from shaking when he put them on.

He knew pictures and videos of him standing behind the Sunburst team would be all over the news tomorrow, but that was the risk he took when he boarded the plane in Nova Scotia.

Some of the guys sitting on the bench turned to bump fists with him, but Harrison was locked onto Jett as the puck dropped, and the start of the second period began.

“If any of the other players show abnormal behaviour, don’t hesitate to tell me,” Adam’s voice said in his ears. “I want to correct it immediately.”

“They’re hockey players,” said Harrison. “All their behaviour is abnormal.”

Adams cracked the tiniest smile. “Understood.”

The Jett playing in the second period was a different person from the one in the first period. He was skating like he had during their last summer game, flying up and down the ice with mind-blowing speed and quick turns, making the Calgary players look sluggish.

Blanchard couldn’t keep up with him, and every time he tried to shove Jett around or get in his way, he was skillfully avoided.

Jett came to the bench at the end of his shift. His gold-brown eyes landed on Harrison, but he didn’t react. He sat and grabbed his water bottle, his eyes never leaving the ice as Toronto continued to pressure Calgary and keep them on the defensive.

Good. His biggest fear of distracting Jett wasn’t going to happen. His sunshine boy was in the zone, and that’s where Jett needed to be to win.

Bracken returned, grinning at Harrison before he took a seat and grabbed his bottle.

Harrison ducked down so the captain could hear him. “Don’t act smug. Pick up your feet and keep pace with Jett, he’s ready to play now.”

Bracken took his helmet off and shook his head, purposely whacking Harrison with his sweaty, blond hair. But without his helmet on, it hurt a lot more when Harrison smacked the back of his head.

He acted like he didn’t hear him, but when Bracken took his next shift on the ice, he kept pace with Jett and pulled off a perfect pass, which allowed Jett to send the puck hurtling through the air like a bullet to hit the back of Calgary’s net, sounding the buzzer.

Jett was immediately swarmed by his teammates, tackled in a rush of cheers and backslaps.

But once the celebration died down and they skated back into position for the next puck drop, Jett turned and flashed a smile in Harrison’s direction.

He raised his stick and pointed it straight at him—a small, deliberate gesture.

And Harrison knew without a doubt: that point was for him.

“ That ,” said Adams. “How did you know that Bracken was the problem when he’s been the most solid player on the team so far?”

Harrison shrugged. “If my star player spent every pregame struggling to keep up, let alone score points, I would be holding back too. He needs to know he can trust Jett to take charge again.”

Adams pulled out his notebook and wrote something down.

Harrison was beginning to understand how the Starbursts operated, but he wasn’t comfortable with being a part of it. He didn’t have much to offer the team except to show up for this game and build Jett’s confidence, but that issue would be solved after tonight.

He glanced at the two assistant coaches who were also in the box with them, each helping direct the forwards and the defencemen, but they weren’t wearing a headset.

It was a strange choice, especially in the middle of such an important game—but Harrison had a feeling he knew why. The assistant coaches were older, much older than Adams. Add in a generational gap, oversized egos, and poor communication, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Adams was alone and working without support, and Harrison assumed he preferred it that way. Still, numbers and observation would only get him so far.

Jett scored one more goal two minutes before the end of the second period, and that’s when Niko was sent running out of the gate. Jett offered him an assist, and the kid scored his second goal only seconds before the buzzer went off, tying the game 4-4.

Blanchard started a fight on the ice with Wolf before they left for the locker room, but it was quickly broken up. He was rightfully pissed, but Harrison couldn’t help but laugh.

He fucking hated that guy, even if he was an amazing player.

Jett waited for him inside the hall, and Harrison was relieved. He had loved kissing Jett in front of the cameras for everyone to see, but he would rather not put on another show so soon.

“Holy fuck!” Wolf yelled in his heavily accented voice. “Did you see us out there? We were like gods on the ice!”

The answering cheers were so loud that Harrison could barely hear Adams when he spoke.

“Yes, you are doing better than I thought you would.”

Jett had heard him. His shoulders were shaking with laughter, and he was making a point of staring at the floor.

“I agree with Wolf,” said Bracken, earning a few sounds of disbelief from his teammates. “We’re on a two-goal streak, so let’s shut Calgary out in third and score two more goals, just to rub salt in the wound.”

“Agreed,” said Adams. “Now hydrate and rest. Keep your mind on the win. ”

Coach left the locker room to his name being chanted amid laughter.

Harrison chuckled at how ridiculous the team was, but it was better than being bitter and worn thin.

Teams that made it to the playoffs without walking away with the cup often choked the next year, but he didn’t think it was possible for the Sunbursts if they kept their spirits high like this.

Jett made Harrison sit on the bench with him as he drank and wiped the sweat from his face.

“You need to sit if your leg is bugging you,” said Jett, blinking up at him.

Harrison raised an eyebrow, and Jett blushed, turning redder the longer they held eye contact. Fuck, he was so adorable. He couldn’t wait until they had some time alone.

“My leg is fine,” said Harrison, and he was surprised to find it wasn’t a lie. “Is there a reason you’re slowly turning the colour of a tomato?”

Jett elbowed him. “Shut up. I’m sorry if I’m still reeling over you being here with me, sitting in this locker room with our team.”

Our team. Harrison almost laughed.

“Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean,” said Harrison. He leaned against Jett’s arm and looked down at their entwined fingers. “It’s unbelievable, but I’m…happy to be here.”

“You guys are so cute!” Powers called from across the room. “Please invite me to your wedding?”

Jett sucked in a breath mid-drink, nearly drowning himself with water.

“Fuck no,” said Harrison. “You’re lucky if you get an invite to my house. Fucking goalies.”

Powers laughed while Bracken smacked his goalie’s pad with his stick.

What a bunch of assholes.

“I vote for Killinger to join us in the locker room for our games,” said Wolf. “Him being here is the only thing that changed, and we’re winning. We don’t want to fuck ourselves by messing with the new routine.”

“Wolf is very superstitious,” Jett said over the agreeing voices. “You might be stuck with us.”

“We don’t have a team dog,” said Cormier. “He could apply for the job! ”

Harrison flipped them off, and the signal to return lit up the room before he could properly work himself into giving a pleasant reply.

The locker room started to empty, but Jett kept them behind so they could have a second.

“Sorry, I just—” He pressed their foreheads together and took a breath. “Thank you.”

Harrison pressed a kiss to his sweaty cheek. “Thank me by sinking that puck into the net until Sébastien Blanchard starts bawling like a baby.”