Page 19

CHAPTER 19

FROST

F rost watched Hel walk out the door. He had been telling the truth; he did usually wake up early, but he had set an alarm to be sure he was up in time to make her breakfast and lunch. He told himself it was because he had nothing else to do for the rest of the day and wanted to do something nice. But a small part of his brain told him to stop telling lies. He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to spend more time with him.

He grinned while he tidied up the kitchen. With the amount of time she spent with her eyes locked on his, he was pretty sure the red-headed doctor liked him too.

His phone rang, pulling him from his happy thoughts, and he frowned down at the screen. It was his agent, Trent.

Trent phoned him while he was in hospital, trying to discuss what was next for him and whether he had considered the coaching offer, but Frost had been in too much pain to even contemplate discussing it. So Trent phoned him every day, allegedly to ‘check in’.

Frost was realistic, he knew that once you didn’t play in the NHL any more, unless you were one of the top zero point zero, zero, one percent who were household names and would go on to sign large television deals and endorsements, your income dropped so significantly that the senior agents in the firm, like Trent, would hand you over to one of the junior guys so they could concentrate on the up and coming players.

Frost needed to make his mind up. He had to accept he was no longer an ice hockey player and move on with his life, however much it broke his heart that his last season was done.

Taking a deep breath, he answered the phone. “Trent. Morning.”

“Hey, Frost. What time is it with you?” Trent’s booming Californian accent echoed from the phone.

Trent was a loud and charismatic guy. Whatever room he was in, he commanded all the attention and used that gift to ensure the spotlight was always shining brightly on his players.

“Eight in the morning.” Frost grinned wryly. Trent was going for the small talk method rather than getting directly to the point.

“It’s the afternoon here and a beautiful day!”

Trent sounded so happy that Frost could almost believe he had set one foot outside the air conditioning of his office. But his agent hated the heat and loathed sweating and would happily dash from an airconditioned office to his car and into his house rather than subject himself to getting a slightly damp brow.

“Great. It’s sunny out here, too.” Frost suppressed his chuckle and joined the pointless small talk. Wondering when Trent would get to the point.

His agent was in no rush, and they spoke some more about the weather. Trent asked him about the Australian wildlife, and Frost pointed out that, no, he wasn’t far enough north to be in danger from crocodiles, and he also hadn’t seen any venomous snakes or spiders.

Finally, after asking about every member of his family, Trent asked, “Have you had any more thoughts about next season?”

“Yeah. I have.” An inkling of an idea began to cross Frost’s mind. He had never coached before and had no idea if he was cut out for it. What if he accepted the NHL coaching contract and found out partway through the season that it wasn’t for him, or he was awful at it?

“That’s great. What shall we tell them?” Trent said enthusiastically.

It always amused Frost when Trent talked about them as a ‘we’. It made them sound like an old married couple. His thoughts strayed to Hel, but he pulled his mind away before it could go places that were not yet his to imagine.

“When do I need to make the decision by?”

“Ideally asap, but they’ve told me the end of August is really the latest. They know you’ve got some big decisions to make.” Trent negotiated hard for his clients, getting them the best deals and making sure he looked after them.

“Thanks, Trent. Can I check something about the current contract with the documentary makers?” Frost heard Trent typing and knew his agent would be opening up the contract to make sure he gave out accurate information.

“Absolutely. Shoot,” Trent said.

“Thanks. They’re paying for me to be here for the whole season?”

“Correct.”

“There’s no clause about cutting it short for any reason? This injury doesn’t mean they’ll cancel the whole deal.”

“No,” Trent confirmed. “You’re there with salary and accommodation until the end of the season.”

“Great. So, I don’t need to be playing. How about I offer my services as an assistant coach? It’s win-win. The team don’t have to pay me. The documentary guys have something to film, other than me hopping around looking miserable, and I get to stay close to the ice. It’ll make my decision about coaching next year so much easier.”

Trent didn’t even hesitate. “My man, that is a fantastic idea. I’ll phone Coach Morgan now and run it past him.”

“He works during the day. I’ll catch him tonight.” Frost tried to slow Trent down a little. Coach Morgan would be at his day job as an auto mechanic and wouldn’t want to be disturbed.

“Why wait until he finishes? He’ll be at the rink. Let’s strike while the irons hot.” Trent’s voice conveyed his enthusiasm.

“Trent. This isn’t the NHL. All these guys have normal jobs. They practise in the evening,” Frost reminded him.

“Ah, yes. Sorry. I forgot. I’ll leave it with you, and you’ll let me know the outcome?”

“Of course,” Frost reassured his agent.

“That’s great. Well, I’ve got a three o’clock meeting I need to prepare for. But we’ll stay in touch. I’ll have Randy contact you and make sure everything is going smoothly.”

And there it was: Randy was one of the most junior guys at the sports agency, and Frost had never been palmed off on him before. This was the start of the transition, where Trent would stop being available to him, and Randy would take over.

“Thanks, Trent.” Usually, Frost would say, ‘Talk soon,’ but he wasn’t convinced they actually would.

“Evening, Coach Morgan.” Frost hopped into the Coach’s office, knowing this was where he would be in the hour before practice started.

He could have phoned him, but after sitting in the house all day, with his only entertainment being daytime television and planning the week’s menu for himself and Hel, he needed to get out.

Frost wasn’t going to stay long, and he had sent a message to Hel while he was on his way to the arena in an Uber.

‘What time do you finish? Dinner’s ready to go in the oven. I’ve gone to the rink. I’ll be home at seven. Put the food in at one hundred and eighty, it’ll need thirty minutes.’

His phone buzzed as he hopped into the Coach’s office, and he only half heard the older man’s greeting in response to his as he fumbled for his phone and saw it was a reply from Hel to his earlier message.

‘You didn’t need to cook dinner for me, but I will never say no to food. Shall I pick you up from the rink? It’s the least I can do with everything you’re doing for me.’

‘Sounds good. Phone me when you arrive, and I’ll head out.’

She gave him a thumbs-up in return.

“Take a seat, son. How are you doing?” Coach Morgan indicated the chair by his desk.

Frost lowered himself into it with a grunt, sticking his plaster-clad leg straight out in front of himself. None of his jeans would go over the bulky plaster, so for the moment, he was stuck in sweatpants, which, luckily, being a pro-athlete—he reminded himself, ex-pro athlete—he had a vast amount of.

“I won’t lie. It’s not been easy. But each day is a little better than the last,” Frost said.

“That’s good.” Coach Morgan nodded.

“Yeah. I had a couple of bad days and drank my body weight in whisky, but I decided it’s not the way I want to go.” Frost was relieved though that he had asked Hel to remove the alcohol as he couldn’t lie and say there hadn’t been a couple of minutes in the middle of the night when he hadn’t been tempted.

“That is good to hear. I spent a few years at the bottom of a bottle. Stopping was the best thing I ever did for my life. It saved my marriage, it means my children still talk to me, and it saved my life,” Coach Morgan said seriously.

“I’m glad you managed to kick it.” Frost was surprised. The Coach was such a calm presence, he would never have imagined him needing to drown his sorrows.

“Me too, son. Now, what can I do for you? I assume you didn’t come all the way here to tell me about your whisky drinking.” The coach raised his eyebrows.

“No, Sir. My career as a player is done.” Frost felt a hitch in his throat when he said it.

“I know. Sorry, son,” Coach Morgan replied gravely.

Frost swallowed a couple of times before he could continue without his voice breaking. “When I go back to Canada, I’ve been offered a coaching job in the NHL.”

“Congratulations.” The older man’s lips pulled up in a small smile. “That’s great news.”

“The thing is, I’ve never coached before, and I can stay in Australia until the end of the season, and the documentary is paying me to be here.” Frost lifted his eyebrows.

“You want to coach the Wombats?” Coach Morgan caught on immediately.

“If you’ll have me. It would be a big help to me to get some experience to see if I want to do it in the NHL.” Frost smiled winningly, hoping the older man was going to say yes.

“And it’ll stop you trying to drown your sorrows?” Coach Morgan guessed.

Frost agreed with a laugh. “Yeah, that too. I’ve never sat around and done nothing. I don’t think I can start now. I’d like to shadow you and learn from you.”

“You realise it’s very different here to the NHL. We’re small fry,” Coach Morgan warned him.

“I understand. But the people management is important, and I think I could learn a lot from you.” Frost hoped he would agree.

The Coach observed him for a long moment before he smiled broadly. “Sure. That sounds good. I’ll email you my schedule. And you can come along. Is that okay?”

“That’s great. Thanks. I won’t keep you any longer, and I’ll see you at the next training session.” Frost grabbed his crutches and heaved himself to his feet.

“Great.” The Coach reached across his desk to shake Frost’s hand, who had to juggle his crutches to return the gesture.

Frost got himself stable again and hopped out of the office. He was on his way to the arena’s exit when his phone rang. He stopped abruptly and nearly dropped his crutches in his haste to grab his phone out of his pocket.

Seeing it was Hel, he grinned as he answered. “Hi.”

“G’day.” Her voice sounded tired but warm. “I’m pulling up now. Where shall I meet you?”

“I’m about to hobble out the front door, so anywhere there is good.” Frost pinned the phone between his ear and his shoulder and got a crutch back in each hand.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder, stumbling a little as he tried to manage the heavy door and both crutches.

Hel was sitting at the curb right in front of him, leaning over from the driver’s seat and peering out the passenger window. She waved when she saw him.

He took his hand off his crutch to wave back and had a small wobble. He saw her face crease with worry, so he put both hands back where they were supposed to be and instead headed for the car, going as fast as he could.

Hel leapt out of the car and dashed around to the passenger side to help him in.

“I can do it myself,” Frost grumbled.

“I know you can, but it’s easier if I help. So deal with it.” She met his eyes defiantly, and he saw the twinkle of humour in their hazel depths.

Frost put his hand on the roof to steady himself and handed her the crutches, muttering, “Yes, boss.”

“Cheeky.” Hel pushed him gently on his shoulder as he threw his backpack over the seat and lowered himself in.

Frost grinned, which faltered when he felt the cold sweep through him when she took her hand away. What was that? He didn’t have that with Patricia. He had enjoyed her touches, but to feel physically cold when they were gone. That was new.

She waited until he was in and shut the door. Walking around, Hel opened the boot and shoved the crutches inside. Frost used the time to peer into the back seat and frowned when he saw all her bags were still piled up there.

When she climbed into the car, he said, “You should bring your stuff in.”

Hel flushed. “Oh. Yeah. It’s super kind of you, but I really don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“I said it was fine.”

“I know. But this way, if you get annoyed with me. It’s easy for you to tell me to leave. You won’t feel like I’m settled, and you can’t ask me.” Hel shrugged.

“I’m not going to ask you to leave,” Frost denied.

“You say that now. But you haven’t seen me after I eat beans.”

Frost glanced sharply at her. Her face was totally straight, but there was mischief around her eyes as if she was about to say something a bit outrageous.

“Oh yeah. What happens?” he asked.

Hel pulled up at a red traffic light, then leaned over and stage-whispered. “I get the most terrible gas,” she said seriously and leaned back to drive.

Frost barked loudly with laughter. He had not expected her to say that. “Good to know. I’ll make sure beans aren’t on the menu. Or if they are, we’ll ensure it’s good weather, and we can have the windows open.”

“Very wise.” Hel agreed, with a straight face.

For the rest of the drive home, they chatted easily about their days. Hel, at one point, had him laughing so hard he cried when she told him about a particularly difficult patient she had treated at work.