Page 4

Taking a seat at my desk, I lean back in my chair and relax for the first time since I stepped into the arena this morning.

What a freaking day.

My morning started with a quick introductory meeting with Becky from HR.

We had already gone over most of the paperwork via Zoom before I arrived in town, so we were actually able to take a quick tour of the management offices and media rooms.

She showed me where postgame press conferences take place and she introduced me to some of the media team and announcers as well.

Becky is wonderful and I can tell she’s not someone you should mess with.

She’s extremely professional, straight to the point, and I respect the way she carries herself.

Everything was going fabulous and I was having such a great time meeting some of the staff.

And then my meeting with Jerry happened.

Let me rephrase that.

Then, Lincoln Scott happened.

Lincoln Scott is not only here, but he’s the head coach of the Bobcats.

I’m a ball of mixed emotions as I sit here and try to process what exactly that means.

Does that make him my boss?

I pinch the bridge of my nose as pressure begins to build.

A migraine is the last thing I need right now.

It’s been nine years since I last saw Link.

We crossed each other’s paths while I was playing an away game at his alma mater, the University of Michigan.

He had some snide comments to make that day, as always.

My rivalry with Link was always a double-edged sword.

At one end, his hateful remarks picked away at my confidence one word at a time.

On the other end, it only motivated me more, causing me to work harder and prove myself to him and everyone around me.

It was an interesting dynamic back then, and finding out today that I’ll be working alongside him has me wondering what the dynamic will look like behind the bench.

I’m hoping our years apart and growing up means we’ll be able to put our past grievances aside, but I’m not too confident that will be the case.

When Link walked into the room, my heart jumped into my throat.

He was the same guy I grew up with, but he was also completely different.

All six-foot-three of him filled his suit as if it was specifically made for him.

Hell, maybe it was.

The jacket hugged his broad shoulders and biceps perfectly.

His muscles were defined, but he wasn’t busting at the seams.

It appears that even though Link is no longer playing, he’s still staying in shape.

His hair was damp and a few strands were loose across his forehead.

He smelled fresh, as if he just took a shower, and a hint of woodsy leather hit my nose, stealing my attention.

But it was his eyes that caused me to fall dumbstruck.

As green as the finest Christmas tree, they peered into my own and held me captive.

I’m not sure what was hiding behind them.

It felt like anger, surprise, and a little bit of curiosity too.

We somehow managed to get through a brief introductory meeting with Jerry without showing any signs of animosity.

Although, when we shook hands, the calluses of his rough ones rubbed against my skin, alerting my nerve-endings and making me aware of every place his hand touched mine.

The heat from his hand infused my whole body with warmth, his thumb absentmindedly stroking back and forth, once, twice, before he pulled away sharply as if his hand was scorched, a frown on his face.

After the awkward hand shake and quick meeting, Link showed me around the rink, on Jerry’s request.

It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it wasn’t torturous by any means.

I mean, that is until we ran into the other assistant coach, Grayson.

What a douchebag.

Grayson’s barely taller than my five-ten height.

I’d say he isn’t even six foot.

He has a ridiculous mustache and cold, brown eyes that assessed me up and down.

When we shook hands, the first thing out of his mouth was, “Who’s the Barbie doll?”

His snide remark rubbed me the wrong way immediately.

I’ve dealt with guys like Grayson my entire life.

Working with them can be extra challenging, but instead of cowering, it only motivates me more to prove my worth.

Luckily our meeting with Grayson was interrupted by a few of the players.

They aren’t required to be at the rink, but many of them choose to get some ice time in over the summer, and with the season fast approaching, it was nice to see the dedication from some of the young guys.

I stare up at the ceiling, wondering what I did to deserve having Link hired alongside me when I hear my phone chime.

Grabbing it from my bag, I see it’s Sadie and swipe across the screen to read her message.

SADIE

How did it go?

It was…

interesting.

SADIE

What the heck does that mean?

I can feel your energy from here.

Did you get fired already?

lol no, Sadie.

My energy is fine.

I just met the head coach.

SADIE

Is he hot?

I let out a sound that’s a half laugh, half cry.

Quite frankly, I’m not sure what you would call it, but it definitely isn’t cute.

SADIE

…

I’ll take the hesitation as confirmation that he is indeed nice to look at.

Do you remember when I told you about the guy who made my life a living hell when I was growing up and somehow continued to do so randomly throughout my life?

SADIE

Of course I do.

We made a voodoo doll that looked like him.

He was pretty hot.

OMG does your head coach look like him?

!

Yummy.

YOU made a voodoo doll that looked like him.

SADIE

You’re welcome.

So, does this guy look like him or what?

It is him.

My phone starts ringing immediately.

This should be good.

“Hey, Sades.”

“You’re telling me that tall, brown-haired, green-eyed drink of water we hate is your head coach?”

I can hear her doing her deep breathing and picture her pacing the condo.

“Breathe, Sadie. But yes, Lincoln was hired as the head coach.”

I close my eyes and the weight of the situation sits heavy on my chest.

The moment I got the phone call that I was hired for this job still lives rent free in my mind.

It was the happiest moment of my life.

Now, as I sit here, it all feels extremely different.

The reality of what’s happening isn’t full of excitement and happiness.

Instead, I’m left anxious and worried.

I’m alone in a new city where the only person I know despises me.

I have to prove to him, this organization, and the entire League that I deserve to be here.

How am I supposed to do that when my coaching partner would rather have anyone else standing next to him?

I tell myself not to laugh.

Because this is some sick joke right?

“Why are you laughing?”

Shit.

I guess that didn’t work.

“I don’t know, Sadie. Because this has to be a joke. No way did my dreams just come true less than forty-eight hours ago, only to be shit on by one of my least favorite humans. Link is the absolute fucking worst.”

I hear a throat clear, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Sadie.

“Sadie, I gotta go. I’ll call you tonight.”

“ Wait! What do you mean you’ll ? — ”

I hang up the phone and open my eyes to see Lincoln leaning against my door frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Link’s biceps are almost bulging with the position of his arms and the look on his face tells me he’s not impressed with the conversation he just walked in on.

“So, tell me more about how I’m the absolute fucking worst.”

Shit.

My breath catches and my eyes slowly trace his body from head to toe.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that. Were you spying on me?”

A sinister chuckle escapes his mouth and he shakes his head.

“Ellie, I have much better things to do with my time than to waste it spying on you. I was on my way to get coffee when I heard you whining about working with me. Maybe next time shut your door, Blondie.”

There is nothing I hate more than when he calls me Blondie.

Every time we played against each other, his insults were followed up by that name.

Hearing it today ignites a rage I haven’t felt in years.

“If you hate me that much, you could do us both a favor and quit.”

The cocky look on Link’s face has me standing up and flashing one of my own back his way.

I slam my hands down on my desk and lean forward.

“Let me make something clear to you, Link , I’m not going anywhere.”

He strides into my office and places his hands across from mine on my desk.

When he leans forward we’re inches apart, face to face, and a hint of mint invades my space along with the woodsy smell from earlier.

His eyes are blazing with fury, but I keep my mask in place, not revealing the fury that matches his own.

“Let me make something clear to you, Ellie. This is my team. I won’t have some pretty face step in thinking she runs the show just because of who her daddy is. You work for me.”

My eyebrows lift at the accusation.

Does he seriously think I only got this job because of who my dad is?

A hateful comment sits at the tip of my tongue but I refuse to stoop to his level.

I take a deep breath and focus on why I’m here.

This job is more important than some stupid childhood rivalry.

“Link, I’m not here to run any show. I’m here to help. There’s nothing I want more than to help turn this team around and make us a playoff contender again. I believe I’m the person for the job. I’m ready to get to work. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Link removes his hands from my desk and takes a step back, clearly shocked by my response.

I take advantage of his silence and move around my desk so we’re standing next to each other .

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go grab some things from my car before the coaches’ meeting.”

I can feel Lincoln’s eyes on me as I walk away but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

What the hell is wrong with all these men, thinking women are incompetent when it comes to hockey?

I’m flattered he thinks I have a pretty face, but there is so much more to me than that.

Link of all people should know that.

I was the best damn defenseman in our league growing up and stopped him more times than I can count.

Either he has a shit memory or he’s just a prick.

Probably both.

How the hell am I supposed to work with this guy?

I make it to my car and remember I have absolutely nothing in here to grab.

Taking a moment to calm my beating heart, I lean against the door.

Frustrated, I silently scream into my hands.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and call the one person who can give me some perspective.

The phone rings a few times before he picks up.

“Hey, baby girl, how’s your first day going?”

The sound of my dad’s voice instantly calms me.

“Hey, dad. Um…it’s going.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too reassuring. Talk to me.”

I don’t know how to tell my dad that I’m questioning if I can do this job.

I may have faked it back there in my office, but I really don’t know how we’ll be able to work together.

I’ve worked my entire life to get to this point, only to be placed into a situation that almost seems impossible.

I know this sport inside and out, and I’m damn good at what I do.

But how can I be my best self with Link next to me, questioning my value?

“Dad, do you remember Lincoln Scott? We played against each other growing up and then he went to U of M on scholarship before being drafted?”

He doesn’t even take a second to think about it.

“Of course I remember him. You guys would chirp each other all game long. It was pretty damn hilarious actually. Why do you ask?”

Hilarious?

I didn’t quite see it that way.

I ignore the comment and tell him what’s going on.

“Well, it turns out he was hired by the Bobcats too. As the head coach.”

“You’re kidding me!” I have to pull my phone away from my ear.

He’s oddly excited about this news.

“What a small world. I guess I don’t see what the problem is, sweetheart. Lincoln is a damn good coach. He’s been doing it even longer than you have since his injury took him out of the game six years ago.”

Why does my dad know so much about Lincoln?

Sure, we all saw the gruesome injury on ESPN after it happened, but how does he know how good of a coach he is?

A question for a different day.

“I don’t know, Dad. Lincoln and I never got along. It goes way beyond any childhood hockey games. We pretty much hate each other. How the heck am I going to be able to do my job when the head coach can’t stand me and thinks I’m no good at my job. The players will feed off that energy. That’s no way to rebuild a team.”

Saying it out loud makes me realize how true that statement actually is.

The guys don’t deserve a coaching staff that doesn’t believe in each other.

If there’s no trust, there will be no success.

“Well sweetheart, if there’s one thing this life has taught me, it’s that you can’t keep looking back. You have to move forward. Is your animosity toward Lincoln something you’re going to continue to carry, or is it something you should leave in the past? What good can come from holding onto all that hatred?”

His questions give me a new perspective.

This is exactly why I called my dad.

He’s the only one who can talk sense into me when my anger gets the best of me.

I’ve been working on it for a long time, but I still know when I need some help .

“You’re right, Dad. I know you are. I can’t let anyone get in the way of my dreams. This team deserves better than that, and so do I.” Feeling reenergized, I straighten and start making my way back into the arena.

“You got this, Ellie. If there’s anyone that can prove people wrong, it’s you. You’ve been doing it your entire life. Now go make a believer out of Lincoln.”

“Thanks, Dad, love you. Talk soon.”

“Bye, baby girl.”

My dad is right.

He almost always is.

I’ve been proving everyone wrong since I first stepped onto that frozen pond at age three.

I have to make Lincoln see that I am exactly who he needs next to him on that bench.

Now the only question is, how the hell am I supposed to do that?