Page 15

Grayson and I are going over defensive pairings in the main family area just outside the locker rooms when I hear one of the most obnoxious sounds of my life.

Was that a dying pig?

I look over my shoulder just in time to see this tiny, dark-haired woman launch herself into Ellie’s arms.

Ellie barely has enough time to catch herself against the wall.

Good grief, that could’ve gotten ugly quick.

I thought for sure she was going down.

Ellie puts the tiny human down and I watch as her mouth transforms into the biggest, most joyful smile I’ve ever seen.

Her perfect white teeth are on display as her eyes light up with excitement.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile like that.

Fuck, she’s breathtaking.

Why have I never seen her smile like that before and why am I all of a sudden making it my life’s mission to do just that?

“Who is that?” Grayson asks.

Shit.

I forgot he was here for a second.

I turn back around and try to ignore whatever is happening behind me, which is harder than it should be.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen her before.” I attempt to get back on track.

“I think we need to mix up our pairings?—”

“Has she always been so pretentious?” Grayson interrupts me, nodding toward Ellie as she walks by with the tiny mystery woman.

I grip the pen I’m holding as tight as I possibly can.

“Grayson.” I say it in my firm coach’s voice so he knows he needs to shut his fucking mouth.

He holds his hands up, feigning innocence.

“Okay, okay. Never mind. She’s clearly a sore subject for you. What is that all about anyway? Did you hit that when you were younger and she was a clinger? Or did she turn you down? Why all the animosity?”

I pound my fist on the table.

“Enough!”

He does us both a favor and keeps his mouth shut.

“I’ve told you once, Grayson. I warned you that if I had to tell you again, you’d be looking for employment elsewhere. And you bet your ass I wouldn’t make that easy for you. Is this going to be a problem all season long? Or can you grow the fuck up and get over yourself and do your job?”

Grayson pushes away from the table and stands up while gathering his notes.

“I didn’t say this meeting was over. Sit your ass back down so we can finish and get the hell out of here.”

Like a good obedient dog, Grayson sits back in his seat.

I’m not entirely sure what his deal is with Ellie, but it’s not like I’m so innocent myself.

Not too long ago I would’ve been way too happy for her to step away from this job.

But the more I get to know her as a coach and as a person, I’m beginning to see that this picture of her I’ve had made up in my head for so long isn’t an accurate depiction of who Ellie truly is.

She’s focused, sharp, a team player, and one of the most driven people I’ve ever met.

Why can’t Grayson open his eyes and see that too?

If we want to be successful this season, he’s going to have to try.

He mumbles, “Yes, sir,” before getting back into our discussion about defensive pairings .

I’m doing my best to stay focused on this conversation and not get distracted by the blonde and her friend out in the hallway.

Luckily for me, they walk away moments later, and we’re able to wrap up our meeting.

I’m left alone in the family room and suddenly feel a migraine coming on.

I rub my fingers in small circles at my temples, trying to relieve the pressure that’s building.

I have a feeling that this Grayson issue isn’t going away anytime soon.

And for whatever reason, whenever he says something about Ellie, my inner Hulk threatens to come out.

Is it because he’s inappropriate or is it because it’s Ellie?

Both.

Definitely both.

The only reason I’m reluctant about going to HR and the GM is because this team just got over a nasty scandal and we’re basically out of money.

If we fire him, where does that leave us?

Can we even afford an interim assistant coach?

Hell, the season hasn’t even officially started yet.

What a mess.

My frustration gets the best of me.

“Fuck!” I yell to absolutely no one at all.

“You all right, big guy?”

I turn to see Hunter leaning against the doorframe with a smartass look on his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie through my teeth.

He huffs out a laugh.

“Sure sounds like it. Pack your shit. You’re coming with me.”

I do as I’m told because I don’t want to be here a second longer anyway.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I follow him out to the employee parking lot.

“You look like you could use a beer.”

I start to protest but stop short when I see he’s raising his eyebrow at me like The Rock.

Damn, that’s impressive.

I put my stuff in my car before hitting the lock button on my key fob.

“Fine. But you’re driving. And buying. ”

Hunter smiles and unlocks his car.

“Always happy to be your DD, Coach.”

I climb in his passenger seat and flip him off before buckling my seat belt.

He’s not wrong, though.

After that moment with Ellie before practice, and that shit show of a meeting with Grayson, I could use a beer.

Or twelve.

Hunter drives us downtown to a local bar we’ve gone to a few times.

There are TVs everywhere, playing mostly baseball games since the race for the playoffs is coming to an end, and a decent sized bartop at the back of the bar.

There’s also a dining area at the front that we opt not to sit in because it’s pretty packed with families and kids.

I’m sure no one would recognize me, but I’d rather not listen to kids scream and cry when I’m already so on edge.

After walking to the back and finding two empty stools at the end of the bar, we order our drinks.

I opt for a whiskey on the rocks rather than a beer because after the day I’ve had, I deserve something stronger.

I down half the glass and turn to see Hunter looking at me.

“What?” I ask from behind my whiskey glass.

His fingers tap against his glass of water as his gaze assesses me.

“You want to tell me what had you so worked up back there at the rink?”

I set my glass down on the bartop.

“Not really.”

“Lincoln.”

The tone of his voice has me surrendering.

Hunter was one of my closest friends back when we played in the NHL together.

After my injury, we kind of drifted apart, but he never stopped checking in on me.

When I became a coach in the league, whenever we’d play against each other, we’d made a promise to always get dinner together if possible, or at least meet up before or after the game.

Next to my cousin Katie, he’s the closest thing to a friend that I have.

Downing the rest of my whiskey, I tell Hunter about Grayson and all the rude comments he’s made about Ellie in front of me.

He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised, and when he tells me he’s heard him make comments about her as well, I grip my whiskey glass so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hand.

Hunter notices the shift in my mood and does his best to change the subject.

“Speaking of Ellie, are you ever going to tell me what happened between you two when you were kids? Because from where I’m standing, she’s not only a badass coach, but she’s a pretty awesome person too.”

I’m not sure what’s gotten into me.

Maybe it’s this second glass of whiskey the bartender sat down in front of me, or maybe I need a friend to hash this out more than I thought.

But for whatever reason, I tell Hunter everything.

And I mean everything.

The childhood rivalry.

The hatred toward Ellie that my father planted like a seed in my brain.

I even tell him about the abuse.

Not all of it, because I’m not looking to go that deep.

But after I spill everything, I feel lighter.

Hunter looks at me thoughtfully.

He doesn’t react in some over dramatic fashion, which I appreciate.

“Damn, Lincoln. That’s a lot to unload. You been holdin’ onto all that for the past fifteen years?”

I chuckle.

“Well, sort of. I have a therapist so it’s not like I’ve been keeping it to myself. But Ellie doesn’t know a thing about my dad. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

The rational part of my brain tells me that Ellie deserves to know why I’ve treated her like shit our entire lives.

When we’re not bickering or chirping each other, we make one hell of a team.

But the irrational, scared part of my brain tells me that if I tell her, it will ruin everything.

She’ll see me as some weak man who took my shit out on her instead of who really deserved it.

“I get it, man, but as someone who has come to know Ellie pretty well, and who considers her one of my best friends here, she deserves to know.”

The bartender comes over just as I’m about to argue with Hunter.

I order another round and Hunter orders an appetizer, but before I can give my side of the argument, Hunter continues.

“I’m not going to lie to you. Ellie isn’t your biggest fan. From the little things she’s let slip about your interactions since she’s gotten here, I don’t blame her. She hasn’t told me much but it seems to me that she thinks she’s still the enemy, even though she’s trying to prove to you she’s not. And after everything you just told me tonight, it feels like one huge miscommunication trope. No one likes the miscommunication trope man.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that means,” I say as I finish my whiskey.

The bartender sets my third and final glass down in front of me.

Hunter gets this weird ass smile on his face as he talks about the miscommunication trope in romance novels.

I think we’ve finally changed the subject but once he finishes his spiel about miscommunication, he brings Ellie and I up again.

“All I’m saying is, your trauma is real, but if you two just sat down and had a real conversation, you might surprise yourselves. Hell, it’s been over a decade. You both deserve to move on.”

He’s right.

Of course he’s right.

Why am I so scared to have this conversation with her?

He seems to be able to read my mind because he answers my question for me.

“You’re scared you might actually like this person you’ve created to be a villain in your mind. Your dad painted her that way, Lincoln. Don’t hate yourself for something your father did. Be better. Do better.”

I decide I don’t need that third glass of whiskey after all.

Hunter’s advice and this conversation has sobered me up and I’d rather not have a hangover tomorrow.

Hangovers in your thirties just hit different.

“Thanks, man. You’re right. I’ll have a talk with her soon. Now, can we drop all this heavy bullshit? Tell me what’s been going on with you.”

Hunter goes on to tell me about all the horrors of online dating he’s experienced since moving to Green Bay.

I’m only half paying attention to what he’s saying because I can’t get my mind off what Hunter said about Ellie.

Am I afraid I’m going to realize I don’t hate Ellie and that I actually like her?

The thing is, I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that question.

Hunter is right on both counts.

I do like her.

And it scares the shit out of me.