Page 39 of Behind the Bench (Green Bay Bobcats #1)

Lincoln has been acting funny ever since pregame skate.

I mean, he got me off twice when he was here earlier, which I’m not complaining about.

But for some reason, it felt like he was being distant whenever we were talking.

I tried to bring up the Niko thing again because I know he wasn’t telling me everything, but he was quick to change the subject.

He’s obviously hiding something from me.

I just can’t figure out what it could possibly be.

Now is not the time to figure it out, though.

I have to be at the rink in forty-five minutes and need to clear my head before stepping foot on that bench.

I find myself at Sadie’s door and knock.

“Come in!”

Sadie is sitting cross-legged on her bed with the sounds of Bridgerton blaring from the laptop that’s sitting in front of her.

She hits pause on the show and looks up at me.

“This better be good, because Anthony is half-naked right now and I’ve been waiting all season for this.”

I belly flop onto her bed and dramatically drop my face into her purple comforter.

I turn my head so my words are muffled.

“My mind is running a million miles a minute, wondering what Lincoln is hiding from me and I have a game in four hours. Help me!” It comes out a little whinier than I intend, but hopefully Sadie realizes how desperate I am for her help.

“Weren’t you two just howling in your room an hour ago? It sure sounded like everything was fine.”

My head snaps up at a record speed.

“You could hear us?”

Sadie closes her laptop and pats me on the head.

“The whole apartment complex probably heard you two, sweetheart.”

Groaning, I drop my face back into her comforter.

I give myself a second to collect my thoughts and lift my head to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Sadie. This is your home too. I’d never want to make you feel uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.”

Sadie gets up from her bed and opens her closet door.

“It’s okay, Ellie. I know you weren’t trying to make me feel uncomfortable. But I appreciate the apology.”

She makes her way out of her closet and smacks my ass with a yoga mat.

She’s going to help me get my shit together.

Bless her little heart.

“Get up. We’re doing a quick fifteen-minute yoga session to get your head on straight. Now get down here and get into constructive rest pose.”

I get off the bed and lay my mat out while Sadie turns on some soothing, nature sounds through her Bluetooth speaker that’s sitting on her dresser.

Once she’s done with that, she joins me on the floor on her own mat.

I’ve done this so many times with her, I get into the opening position like she says, lying flat on my back with my knees bent, feet on the floor, and my arms relaxed against the ground.

Sadie helps me work through my breathing and guides me through a quick, but productive, meditation session.

It’s like everything else fades away.

It’s me, my mat, and my breathing.

With each exhale of my breath, I let a worry go.

After the meditation, she leads me through some light stretches.

After about ten minutes, not only does my body feel great, but my mind is feeling better too.

There’s just something about yoga that soothes my body and soul.

Sadie is a magician at leading the way too.

“Wow, Sadie. Fifteen minutes and I feel like a million bucks.”

She jumps to her feet and shrugs her shoulders.

“What can I say? I’m your own personal Buddha.”

I give her a quick hug and rush to my room to get dressed for the game tonight.

I choose a green business suit I just bought.

I do a quick turn in front of the full-length mirror that’s in my closet and decide this may be one of my favorite game day suits yet.

The green not only looks classy, but also reminds me of the color of Lincoln’s eyes as he hovers above me in bed.

And now I’m thinking about Lincoln again.

I have a problem.

It’s becoming harder and harder to hide the way that man affects me at work.

I have to look away any time he raises his voice at the team, because the tone and fierceness of his words has me wanting to rip his clothes off.

I’ve discovered many new kinks since this thing started between us, and I’m loving every minute of it.

Taking a few deep breaths, I calm my pounding heart and refocus.

Visualization has always been an effective technique for me on game days.

Even as a coach, I use the technique to visualize game strategies and emotional responses to situations that may happen during the game.

It’s also been extremely beneficial in keeping my composure on the bench.

My passion is often mistaken for being overly-emotional.

It’s ridiculous but that’s the narrative the slimeballs in the press and on the internet have created for me.

I’m usually quick to brush them off, but I also do my best not to add fuel to the fire.

I grab my favorite game day heels, a comfortable pair of black Steve Madden’s, and head off to the rink, in search of another win.

It’s been one hell of an aggressive game, and we’re tied at three going into overtime.

We have five minutes to score before this thing heads into a shootout.

As exciting as shootouts are, I’d rather end this thing during three on three.

We only have a couple minutes before overtime will start.

It’s the regular season, so the Zamboni won’t come out to resurface the ice.

Hunter and Lincoln make their way toward me at the far end of the bench.

Hunter grabs his small notepad from his pants pocket.

“It looks like they usually start their young guns for overtime. At least they did in all the game tapes I watched. So they’re gonna try to win with speed.”

Lincoln and I nod at Hunter’s notes, both trusting his predictions completely.

Lincoln is usually the one who decides personnel in these types of situations, but instead he looks to me.

“Ellie, who should we put on the ice with Jefferson?”

Most of the guys are on the bench, with a few on the ice against the boards huddled around them.

The ones close enough to hear look up to me at Lincoln’s question.

I look down the bench at the rest of the team, contemplating who is best to counter the speed of the other team.

“Well, Niko is still one of our fastest players, and with the way they’ve been connecting lately, he should be out there.”

Hunter smiles and nods, agreeing with my assessment.

I expect Lincoln to decide the third player and call out the starting line, but again, he looks to me.

“That’s two. One more. You’re leading the way on this one, Montgomery.”

I’m not entirely sure why he’s handing the reins over to me on this one, but you bet your ass I’m not letting go of them.

“Jefferson, Niko, and Smith on defense. He’s our fastest, most offensive defenseman. So he can score and handle any odd man rushes that come his way.”

You’d think Lincoln just won the lottery by the size of the smile that stretches across his face.

He looks like he’s about to reach out to me, but thinks better of it at the last second, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Holy shit.

I hope no one else saw that.

I see Hunter’s goofy grin over Lincoln’s shoulder and give him my best death glare, but it only makes him laugh.

Luckily, all the guys are focused on Lincoln as he steps down so he’s at the same level as the team.

“Coach Montgomery is leading the way tonight. So she’ll be calling out lines.”

There’s a mix of “hell yeah,” “let’s go,” and some other explicit cheers I don’t quite catch, but the fact of the matter is, these guys are all in with me.

Lincoln steps back onto the bench and I take his spot down on the floor at ice level with the team.

I call out the starting lineup and let the next three guys know they’ll be up when they come for a line change.

Luckily, I don’t need to make any other big decisions.

Thirty seconds into overtime, Smith intercepts a cross ice pass and launches it down the ice to Niko.

He and Jefferson skate down the ice on a 2-on-1.

The defenseman over commits to Jefferson which leaves Niko wide open for a shot.

He looks off the net, as if he’s about to pass, and then fires a shot that goes bar down, just over the goalie’s shoulder.

The guys all jump up to hug each other, some of them even turning to me to celebrate.

This moment feels bigger than any others yet this season.

I took the lead on the overtime situation and it paid off.

I feel like I’m literally floating with all the joy surging through me.

I look over to see Lincoln smiling that gorgeous smile at me, as he makes his way down the bench toward me.

He lifts his hand for a high five and gives it a little squeeze before dropping my hand.

“Nice job, Coach . Let’s go celebrate.”

Lincoln’s trust and excitement have me feeling like I’m on top of the world.

I look around to see the crowd going wild and the guys huddled at our net, congratulating our goalie.

They all make their way to center ice to salute our adoring fans.

Hunter, Lincoln, and I make our way to the tunnel to leave before the players.

There’s a little girl leaning over the handrails at the players’ tunnel, waiting to ask for autographs.

I give her a little smile and wave but she screams my name.

“Coach Montgomery! Can I please have your autograph?”

I take a few steps closer to her and realize she’s wearing a Bobcats jersey with my old hockey number on the sleeves.

We don’t have a #12 on our team so it has me very curious.

“I love your jersey. Whose name is on the back?”

She turns around and the sight before me steals my breath.

Because this little girl has a Bobcats jersey with my name on the back.

My cheeks hurt with the strength of my smile, and my nose stings, letting me know I’m seconds away from losing it.

“That’s the coolest jersey I’ve ever seen. Let me sign that for you.”

I sign my name and shake hands with her parents before turning and walking down the tunnel.

I’ve seen my name on the back of many jerseys in the past.

Fans cheering at many of my PWHL games or wearing a USA jersey during the World Championships or Olympics.

But never in my life did I imagine I’d see my name on the back of an NHL jersey.

This is what dreams are made of.

I can’t wait to celebrate tonight with the gorgeous man waiting for me outside the locker room.

I just hope to god he means we’ll be celebrating alone.