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10

Luke

L ennon looks like she’s going to vomit all over her shoes any minute now. A sick sense of satisfaction rolls through me at the sight.

It’s our first workout together, and I wasn’t one bit surprised when I arrived at the rink this morning and she was already laced up and waiting at the boards. When I told her to get back in the locker room and change into workout clothes and meet me in the gym, she was confused.

She thought we’d just do a few extra drills. Maybe I’d send a few slapshots her way to block.

Wrong.

We’re going to start from the beginning.

Conditioning.

I overheard her conversation with Grace shortly after I told her I’d push her like she wanted as the two of them walked down the hallway yesterday.

“I think I’m going to be doing extra practices with Coach Holloway. Do you want to join, too?” Lennon sounds nervous.

“What? When?”

“He just told me to be at the rink tomorrow morning an hour before practice starts.”

“That would be like, 5:00 am!” Grace says the time like it’s a disgrace.

“I know, but beggars can’t be choosers.” Smart girl, Lennon. “So, are you in?”

There’s a pause, and then Grace says, “Look, you know I love this sport. But, I’m not like you. I don’t want to do extra workouts or add on more practice time. I’m already drowning with classes, and honestly, I just play it for fun. And because I love the team.”

“I get it,” Lennon responds. “Looks like it’s just going to be me and him. Greaaaat.”

“You asked for it!”

She did ask for it. And she’s looking like she’s having regrets at the moment. Good.

“One more round of eight,” I bark at her.

I can practically hear the fuck you screaming through her head, but to her credit, she clamps her mouth shut and finishes out the last round of step-ups strong.

For being a small university, Haulton has some big donors. The athletic facilities are top-notch, including two private weight rooms: one for the women’s team and one for the men’s. It’s small but has everything it needs.

Lennon drops the dumbbell she’d been holding for the step-ups on one of the benches and props her hands on her narrow hips, breathing heavily. Her gray Haulton Huskies T-shirt is darker in places where it clings to her sweat-soaked skin. “What’s next?” she pants.

I glance at my watch. We’ve been at it for almost forty-five minutes, and while she’s clearly exhausted, Lennon isn’t going to ask for a break.

I point to an empty spot on the wall. “Squat.”

Lennon turns pleading eyes my way, but she’s met with stone. “You asked for it,” I remind her.

“I did,” she mutters. She walks over, places her back against the wall, and slides down until her knees are bent at a ninety-degree angle.

“Just be grateful I’m not giving you any weight to hold while you’re there.”

“Thank you so very much,” she quips and then tacks on a quick, “Sorry.” I don’t have an issue with her smart comments, as long as she continues to do what she’s told. If anything, they bring a little bit of spark to my otherwise dull days and interactions. It wouldn’t be nearly as tolerable if she only said yes, sir the entire time.

“You’re gonna hold it for sixty seconds.”

She groans.

“You’ll either do it or you won’t. We’ll baseline from here on if you can go longer, or need to build up the strength.”

A look of resolution washes over her face. “I’ll make it.” She sounds so sure of herself that I believe her.

I clasp my hands behind my back, studying her. “The legs feed the wolf.”

Her head whips up, strands of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. “Did you just quote Miracle ?”

Suppressing a smile, I nod.

“Trying to channel Herb Brooks today? Going to make me bag skate after this?”

The idea sounds appealing, and Lennon must see the temptation on my face because hers pales the same shade of white as the wall behind her. “Maybe next week,” I quip. A glance at the clock shows she has fifteen more seconds to hold her squat.

Every part of her trembles, and she bites her full lip so hard I’ll be surprised if it’s not bleeding. She shuts her hazel eyes and slams her head against the wall behind her, groaning quietly.

I mentally count her down and watch. Waiting to see if she’ll buckle. If she’ll break. If she’ll give up when the going gets tough.

But she hones in her breathing, and despite the quivering of her thighs, she holds the wall sit until I call out, “Time.”

She collapses in a heap with an audible sigh of relief.

“Do you understand why we’re doing this?” I ask.

“Because I’ve back talked you since you’ve arrived, and this is your way of getting back at me?”

I blink at her, and she ducks her head. “Try again.”

She coughs and takes a few deep breaths before answering. “Because in order for my game to be stronger, I need to be stronger?”

My brows rise, impressed with her answer. “Yes. You should’ve been working out over the summer, gearing up for the season.”

“I was,” she mumbles.

“Not hard enough. You lack stamina, and you need it to get through an entire game with the same precision and energy that you start with.”

Her lips twist. “Fair enough. So…should I meet you here again tomorrow morning?”

Before today, I half expected she’d show up, be annoyed with the workout, smart off when I push her, and give up. But clearly, I was wrong.

“Fine.”

As Lennon rises and limps out of the weightroom, I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, even if I wasn’t the one working out. For once, my mind doesn’t feel as if it’s in this perpetual state of fog. I feel…awake. There’s a thrumming pulse beneath my skin as I play back the last hour.

How she listened to every single order I doled out.

How she never gave up, even when it was clear she was approaching her limits.

How I can see the hunger in her eyes to improve and the will to push through to get there. She’s a hard worker, and there’s something about her drive that makes me want to do this all over again.

Right before she crosses the threshold, she calls over her shoulder. “Thanks, Coach.”

Coach .

For the first time, I kinda like the sound of that.