Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“The two of you clearly need a place to channel your aggression, and ice sprints are a good way to give you time to think about your choices and how they impact the rest of your team. And because this is a team, and we’re supposed to function as a unit, all your teammates will join you.” She holds up a hand when the grumbling starts. “Don’t add to your problems. Ten ice sprints each.”
Ryker sighs. It’s one thing to do ice sprints in regular gear, but we’re carrying more weight than everyone else.
“I’ll take one from each player,” Grace offers.
“No, you and Madden will do ten extra regardless. We won’t tolerate your personal bullshit here at work. You’re too late for winning favors.”
Vander Zee nods his approval. “You heard her, boys.”
We line up and wait for her whistle.
Ice sprints are as expected: hellish. Two of the rookie players vomit. Grace does his ten and then keeps going, side by side with Madden.
But even after that, practice is a mess. Ryker and I take turns in net, and we let in four goals apiece. I feel bad for him. I know why I’m off my game, but he has the new-guy pressure to perform.
We’re all exhausted when we leave the ice, the usually buoyant mood dampened by the obvious tension among the team. We need to figure out a way to manage these boys or we’re in for a shitty season. Everyone in the league knows about Madden and Grace’s mutual disdain. It shines a light on our weaknesses and makes us vulnerable for the next exhibition game.
I can’t escape the locker room fast enough after I shower. But before I get far, Vander Zee calls me into his office.
“Sorry about my performance in net today,” I say as I step inside.
“Everyone was off.” Vander Zee closes the door behind me.
I smell Lexi’s perfume before I register her presence in the room. She sits in one of the conference chairs, still wearing her coach’s tracksuit, braid hanging over her shoulder, clipboard in front of her. Composed. Poised. Like this is where she belongs.
I shut down my invasive, frankly infuriating thoughts about her in much more recreational situations and take a seat at the conference table. I cross and uncross my legs and try to keep my gaze from drifting to her.
“Roman?” Vander Zee looks concerned.
“I know Ryker is taking his lead from me, and I’ll do better,” I say.
Vander Zee and Fielding exchange a look. Lexi seems very interested in her clipboard.
“We have a whole season to get Ryker ready. This is about Madden and Grace,” Jamie Fielding, the GM, explains.
“You’re tight with Madden,” Vander Zee says.
I sigh. “You want to know why they can’t stand each other.” I’m the team dad. I’ve been playing professional hockey longer than anyone. The boys come to me for advice, and management looks to me to help settle the ones who come in with dicks blazing.
“We don’t want to put you in a difficult position, but any insight would be helpful,” Fielding says.
I lean back in my chair. “Honestly, any time Grace’s name comes up in conversation, Madden shuts it right down.” I look to Thomas. “It might help if someone less involved personally talked to him.”
“Maybe,” Thomas says noncommittally.
“Have you asked Stiles or Bright?” I ask. “They all went to the Hockey Academy together. And Stiles and Madden have known each other their whole lives. They might have some sway with him.”
“You mind sticking around while we call them in?” Vander Zee asks.
“Sure.” What else can I possibly say? I don’t want to appear as though I’m not interested in helping the team succeed. But the sooner I’m out of this office and away from Lexi, the better.
CHAPTER 5
LEXI
Roman looks like this is the last place on Earth he wants to be.
Can I blame him? After three years, I show up with no warning. And he clearly remembers not only what we did together, but also that I left with no explanation. Hindsight is a jerk. If I could have a do-over on how I handled my introduction as the new assistant coach, I would play it so differently. I should have swallowed my pride and reached out privately to let him know I was joining the team. It would have been awkward, but this is worse. I’d rather that than his anger. I thought my anxiety yesterday was bad. It has nothing on how I feel now. And I can’t believe I called him out on the ice, especially since he could still blow this all up for me.
But I couldn’t have him or anyone else come to my rescue. The only way to earn the team’s respect is to show them I don’t need saving. Especially not by their beloved goalie. This isn’t just a job, it’s where my heart is.