Page 20 of Offside Play (Love The Game #1)
Cody
M y life had turned into a nightmare. A nightmare of my own making.
The pressure in my chest was immense. My head was filled with a thick fog of fucking anguish, and my shoulders were heavy with the crushing weight of knowing I’d lost both the Stanley Cup and Jude in the space of a night.
When I’d dared to venture outside my apartment and been confronted by the disappointed faces of the fans…
I struggled to breathe. All I wanted was to hide away alone until this pain left my chest and I could breathe again.
But I had responsibilities. People who were depending on me. And no matter how badly I’d fucked up in almost every area of my life, I wasn’t going to let them down.
Marcus was already warming up when I stepped onto the ice at the community rink. A wide, genuine smile spread across his face when he saw me, and for the first time since Toronto, I felt some of the pressure in my chest ease.
Not all of it. Not nearly enough. I was all too aware of the empty space in the stands where Jude had quickly become a familiar sight, silently supporting me with his presence.
But enough to take a breath. To concentrate on the one thing I still had, that I hadn’t tainted.
Skating in my direction, Marcus picked up speed as he flew across the rink. He came to a skidding stop in front of me, sending a shower of ice into the air.
When I raised my brows at his showy move, he responded with an unapologetic grin. “Cody! I watched the game. You guys played so hard. I wish we’d won, but we’ll get it next year.”
Fuck, I wished I could take the loss as easily as he seemed to be. “Thanks,” I managed. Clearing my throat, I attempted a smile. “Ready to start? I thought we could do some gap control drills today.”
For the next hour, I lost myself in the familiar rhythm of coaching. Little by little, the pressure on my chest eased, still suffocating, but I was able to take a breath by the time the session came to an end.
Jack made his way down from the stands towards us. He studied me for a moment before clapping me on the shoulder. “You boys should be proud of what you accomplished this season.”
“Thanks.” I stared down at my skates, words falling from my mouth that I hadn’t meant to say, because they were too honest. “It doesn’t feel like much of an accomplishment right now. It feels like I let everyone down.”
“You know what my dad used to tell me? You win some, you lose some, but you always get back up. You’ll get back up.” Jack’s voice was gentle but firm. He glanced towards his son. “You haven’t let anyone down, either. Look at what you’ve accomplished with Marcus.”
Marcus held up his hand to his dad for a high five and then spun around to jab his gloved finger in my direction. “Yeah! I’m gonna make it onto the team, thanks to you, and next year, you’re gonna win the Stanley Cup.”
The conviction in his voice took me aback. Had anyone ever put so much blind faith in me before? I swallowed around the lump in my throat as Jack patted my shoulder, and Marcus shot me a playful grin before copying his dad’s move.
“Thanks. Both of you. It means a lot,” I said hoarsely.
As I watched them leave, something clicked into place inside me. Standing here on the chipped, scuffed ice of this worn community rink, I realised that I felt like I belonged.
I belonged here . Teaching kids who loved to play.
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever felt that before in any of my professional games. I loved being on the ice, playing to win, but this…
I’d never admitted it to myself before, but now, I could.
I loved coaching, more than I loved playing in the NHL.
What that meant for my future, I had no idea.
My contract was about to expire, and I still wasn’t sure if Calgary would want me back next season.
While I loved coaching, the amount I charged could barely cover the cost of a cup of coffee, let alone my rent and bills.
Yeah, I had some investments, but they wouldn’t keep me afloat forever, and I couldn’t rely on uncertainties.
“So this is where you’ve been disappearing to.”
I spun around to find fucking Petrov and Davis standing at the boards, their expressions a combination of curiosity and something that looked like concern.
“What the fuck are you two doing here?”
The two of them exchanged shifty glances. Petrov cleared his throat. “You missed the team lunch.”
“Yeah.” Davis nodded. “You’ve been MIA since we got back from Toronto. We got worried.”
“So we followed you,” Petrov added with an unapologetic shrug. Asshole. “We figured if we could corner you when you were sneaking out to meet with your mystery girlfriend, you wouldn’t be able to run away from us.”
I stared at them, warring with anger and disbelief. “You followed me? Like a couple of fucking stalkers?”
Davis rolled his eyes. “No. Like a couple of teammates who give a shit about you. And here we all are.” He glanced around us. “No mystery girlfriend in sight. I have to say, when we came up with our plan, we never expected to find you coaching a kid at a community rink.”
They’d been watching my session . Fuck. I could feel my face heating. Why had they decided to come after me? Didn’t they know there was a reason I’d been avoiding their calls and texts?
“How long were you watching?”
“The whole time. Fuck, Clements. You were incredible with that kid,” Petrov said.
Davis nodded. “Seriously. You were great.”
“It’s just a side thing. Extra money.” The lie tasted like ash in my mouth.
Davis raised his brows. “Yeah? How much do you charge?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How. Much?”
I mumbled a figure that was barely enough to cover ice time and equipment. Didn’t cover it sometimes, if I were truthful.
His jaw dropped. “Fucking hell, Clements. That’s nothing.”
“Yeah, so? I would’ve done it for free, but the parents won’t let me. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“I get it.” Petrov nodded. “I coach my nephew and his buddy twice a week. I don’t charge them anything because they’re family, but you know what? I’d still coach them for free, even if they weren’t.”
“I grew up without much money,” Davis began hesitantly, and we both turned to face him.
“Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to remind me of the mansion, and the flash cars, and— Whatever.
I work hard for those things. My point is, I know what it’s like when your parents can’t afford the expensive coaching, the elite programs, the equipment…
everything we take for granted. If someone had done for me what you’re doing for that kid… ”
“I don’t?—”
“We understand.” Petrov’s voice was firm. “Believe us.”
I exhaled unsteadily. Neither of them had mocked me or sneered at the fact that I was doing this. Instead, they seemed…interested? “I coach four of them,” I found myself saying. “One-on-one.”
“Yeah?” Davis smiled. “That’s awesome, man.”
“You don’t think it’s weird that I’m spending my free time teaching teenagers instead of…I dunno, whatever you guys think I do?”
Petrov laughed. “Half the team thinks you’re out fucking some mystery woman every night. The other half thinks you’re a grumpy bastard who hates us all. The truth’s way better than either of those options.”
He wasn’t wrong about the grumpy bastard part, although hate? Fucking hell, that was a strong word.
“I—I don’t hate you,” I muttered, staring down at my gloved hands.
“We know. I was joking…kinda. What I meant was, you’ve never been interested in spending time with us unless you have to.”
There was an awkward silence where it seemed like none of us knew what to say. He was right, but I couldn’t admit it aloud. Why couldn’t I be normal? Why couldn’t I fucking communicate with people? Why did I have to isolate myself all the time?
Davis broke the silence, pulling me out of my spiralling thoughts. “Why didn’t you tell us? I can’t speak for the rest of the team, but I can speak for me and Dimitri at least. We could’ve helped you out, if you needed it. And I’m sure the team would’ve supported you.”
I shook my head. “It’s— I didn’t want it getting out. Didn’t want it to turn into some made-up PR story about redemption or whatever. This is private. These kids don’t need the fucking media showing up at their sessions.”
“Fair enough. But you know you don’t have to do this alone, right? If you ever need backup or want to set up group sessions or whatever—we’re here.” Petrov exchanged glances with Davis, and they both nodded.
Something warm unfurled in my chest.
“Thanks,” I rasped. “That…that means a lot.”
Petrov smiled. “You’re welcome. Alright. Wanna grab coffee and tell us about the secret coaching life of Cody Clements?”
“It’s not a secret,” I muttered. ‘Not from you two stalkers. But okay. Let’s get coffee.”