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Luke

I never went to college. Once my first NHL contract was signed at twenty years old for more money than I ever could’ve dreamed of, it wasn’t even a passing thought in my mind. Plus, classes were always boring and only took time away from what I wanted to be doing.

Playing hockey.

But somehow, all these years later, a college campus is exactly where I wound up anyways. The early-morning September air is muggy as it rustles through the trees lining the sidewalks between buildings. Haulton is an old university in my home state of Michigan and one place I never thought I’d visit, even though I grew up less than thirty minutes away.

The campus is full of red-bricked buildings and before winter sets in, beautiful, lush greenery everywhere you look. Intricate metal benches sit on the paths that students will soon be bustling around on, and at the center of it all is a large courtyard. It’s empty right now but not for long. Classes start next Tuesday, right after Labor Day.

So does practice.

The watch on my wrist shows it’s five past the top of the hour, but my steps remain unhurried as I make my way to the hockey athletic offices tucked inside the campus’s rink. Most people wouldn’t want to show up late for their first meeting on a new job, but I truly don’t have it in me to care as I stride across the pebbled path.

When my alarm went off this morning, I debated snoozing it. Almost took another sleep vitamin and rolled back over. It’s not like I particularly want to be here.

But that’s the thing. I don’t really want to be anywhere .

Been like that for the last three years.

But I owe it to Alice to at least show up and let her decide whether or not she wants to keep me around. She probably already stuck her neck out to get me this job in the first place, and if my mom were still here, she’d kick my ass if I disrespected her old friend by not even showing up to my first day of work.

My T-shirt clings to my back with a light sheen when I finally reach the rink. I trudge up the stone steps like they’re leading to my execution instead of the first day of this new chapter in my life. The solid wood doors creak loudly in the quiet morning breeze. It smells like old money and furniture polish as I make my way down the hallway, scanning the numbers on the outside of the doors until I find the one I’m looking for.

It’s the only office that has a light on inside, and as far as I can tell, we must be the only two people here today. The door is slightly ajar, and I get a glimpse inside. Alice is hunched over her desk, studying a slip of paper. She doesn’t notice me, and it runs through my mind that I could turn around and leave right now. Get out before I have the chance to get pulled in.

But what the hell else do I have going for myself right now?

I knock and seal my fate.

Alice’s head whips up at the sound, her short blonde hair falling in her eyes. “Just the man I’ve been waiting for!” She pops out of her cushioned chair so quickly it spins behind her as she rounds the cluttered desk. I step inside the office, and in a few short steps, she’s across the room and batting away my offered hand with a chuckle. “Don’t go pulling that formal shit on me already.”

“Old habit,” I murmur as she pulls me in for a hug. Alice may be pushing sixty, but she’s strong as hell as she squeezes me. “It’s good to see you.”

Her soft, familiar eyes crease at the corners with a smile as she pulls back and takes me in. “It’s good to see you too, Coach .” She emphasizes the name, and it’s strange hearing it directed at me. I’ve been around coaches my whole life but never thought the title would ever be one I’d wear.

“Gonna have to get used to that one,” I say.

“You’ll grow into it.” She pats my arms then heads back around her desk. “Take a seat.”

Doubt it.

I fold myself into the offered chair as Alice takes her spot once again. She takes a moment and just looks at me. I stare back at her, but unlike others, she doesn’t shrink beneath my gaze. She smiles warmly as she takes me in. “Look at you all grown up.”

My lip twitches. “Yeah, time will do that,” I deadpan.

“Gosh, I mean, it’s been, what, ten years?” she muses.

“Eleven,” I correct.

Pain flashes in Alice’s eyes as she realizes why I know exactly how many years it’s been since I last saw her.

My mom’s funeral.

“I miss her,” she says softly.

“Me too.” Admitting it doesn’t hurt like it used to. Talking about her doesn’t either. “You know if she was still here, she’d show up and crash our meeting.”

Alice chuckles and shakes her head. “She didn’t like to miss out on anything. Hell, she’d probably be jockeying for a job as the zamboni driver if it meant she could be included.”

The image of my mom driving the giant machine between periods is almost enough to bring a genuine smile to my face.

Almost .

“How’s your brother doing? Still coaching the boy’s team at Eastridge?”

I hum my confirmation. “Surprised you didn’t call him up when you had an opening.” My older brother, Sebastian, has been coaching the boys team at the high school he teaches history at since he got his first job there after graduating college. Like me, he grew up playing hockey but never attempted to play past college.

“Well, sounds like he already has a job.”

Touché.

“What about your dad? I haven’t seen him at a game in a while. Although it looks like he’s been having fun in retirement with his woodworking.” She smiles.

“He has,” I say, scrapping a hand across my stubbled cheek. “You see all his pictures online of his projects, I take it?”

“Everyday.” Alice nods. “I’m glad to see him keeping busy.”

He’s never remarried since my mom passed, and once he retired years ago, I was worried he’d grow lonely and bored. But if anything, he seems to be doing better than he has in years.

That makes one of us.

As much as I respect Alice and have known her since I was a kid, the small talk is already growing exhausting. Since I’ve retired, the amount of time I spend around people these days is almost nonexistent. A dull headache forms behind my right eye, and I blink against the fluorescent lighting.

“I gotta be honest,” I say, cutting to the chase. “I don’t know why the hell you want me. I’ve never coached before.” And it’s the girl’s hockey team, but I keep that thought to myself.

Alice studies me. “Everyone needs to start somewhere. Why not let this be your starting line?”

“I don’t even know if I want to coach.” Who the hell am I to motivate anyone? The past three years have been spent rehabbing, coming to terms with the fact that my career is over, and questioning what my purpose even is if I can’t do what I love anymore.

“Do you have something else you want to do? Some other job opportunity lined up that sounds better to you?”

My jaw clenches, and Alice nods her head triumphantly.

“That’s what I thought. Look, you may go through this season and realize it’s not for you. Trust me, I’ve seen great players try to coach once they retire and fail. Not everyone is cut out for it. Being a terrific player doesn’t automatically translate to being a terrific coach.” She leans her elbows on her desk and narrows her light eyes on me. “But I think you’re going to surprise yourself. If you allow it.”

I scoff and half-heartedly cover it with a cough. She’s sincere with her words, even if slightly misguided. There’s nothing that’s going to surprise me about myself. I know who I am.

Or who I was.

My throat is tight with bitterness and old resentment as I finally say, “I can’t make you any promises. Not that I’ll be any good at this or increase your chances at that championship title.”

“I’m sure a Frozen Four Championship title seems small to a Stanley Cup winner like yourself, but for me, for these girls, it’s the highest level they’ll be able to reach. We came close last year…” Alice trails off, looking away. “So damn close.” I know that look. When something that you want, that you worked for, was within your grasp but snatched away at the final moment. Any athlete you meet knows that feeling. “They’re hungry for it,” Alice continues, straightening up in her chair. “ I’m hungry for it. And although you may discount yourself already, I think you can help us get there.”

I’m not some missing fucking puzzle piece to this team, but the determination on Alice’s face is enough to suppress me from voicing my doubt.

The chair squeaks as I lean back and cross one foot over my knee. “Like I said, I make no promises.”

“But…?”

“But,” I sigh, “I already signed the contract, so I guess I’m all yours.”

Alice’s eyes shine as she jabs an excited finger in my direction. “Not the ringing endorsement I was looking for, but I’ll take it! Alright, so I’d primarily like for you to work with our goalies. We’ve never had a coach on our staff who was a goalie themselves, and that’s an area that if we lock it up like I know we can…” She trails off with an excited breath. “It’s our year this year.”

I don’t have it in me to match her enthusiasm, so I simply nod.

“Our other assistant coach, Jenna Packley, won’t be back in the office until our first practice next week, so you’ll have to wait to meet her. She’s great with our defense and has been with the team for almost six years.”

Alice runs down a few other members of the faculty and explains how many of them are off on vacation with it being the last weekend before the semester kicks off. I try to pay attention, but it’s hard to focus when nothing grabs my interest. New faces, new names, I’ll worry about remembering them when I’m actually face-to-face with them.

Or if I decide I’m actually going to see this through, contracts be damned.

Alice spins her chair around and grabs a tablet off a charger that was resting on top of a file cabinet. She fiddles with it for a moment before sliding it across the desk to me. I lean forward and see she has a video pulled up. I flinch at the brightness level of the screen, and Alice quickly adjusts it with a pitying look on her face that grates against my nerves.

Before she presses play, she says, “The two players I’m primarily looking for you to work in practices with are Lennon Kilcrease and Grace Miller. Grace is a junior, so hopefully you’ll have more time to work with her not only this season, but also the next. She’s our backup goalie and honestly, doesn’t get as much ice time as her merit demands.”

“If she’s so talented, why is she the backup?”

Alice folds her hands on the desk and pulls her shoulders back proudly. “Because Lennon is that good.”

“Lennon?” I ask, unable to hide the judgment in my tone. What the hell kind of name is that?