What could life have been like if Elliott had come back from hockey instead of staying away?
Nope. She wouldn’t let herself fall down that rabbit hole. Her path had given her two perfect, beautiful children that she never once regretted even if their fathers were both complete jerks. Though Elliott had left her too, ergo—also a jerk.
She needed to put those beautiful eyes and that lopsided smile out of her mind, and panties, forever. Nothing good could come of opening the door to their past. It was behind them. Despite living in the same city, Mason playing hockey, and Elliott coaching the college kids, she’d managed to avoid bumping into him for almost two decades. With any luck, she wouldn’t see him again for another two.
Chapter 3
Elliott
Even though the junior high-aged team was training on the ice pad, Elliott sat in the stands surrounded by loose pages and highlighters. Something about the cool, crisp air in the rink and the sound of skates cutting through ice, no matter who was skating, made it easier for him to think.
Down below, the AAA team finished their warm up and were breaking out into small groups to work on their puck handling and skills. Like putting together a championship winning team wasn’t hard enough, rebuilding when star players graduated college and stepped out into the big bad world all by themselves felt unachievable some years.
Coach of the AAA team, Will Morrison, had been the best damn captain the Snow Pirates had seen for as long as Elliott had been the coach, and filling the kid’s shoes…well, it felt kind of impossible. Picking up the print out of the roster, he studied his team’s stats again. He could probably recite them in his sleep.
Every season it was as though the details of his players were tattooed onto the insides of his eyelids. He knew them better than he knew himself. Their strengths, their weaknesses, their women, their superstitions. He knew it all. And he also knew that it always took a little time for things to settle and the guys to find their flow, but this season felt insurmountable given what had gone before.
It didn’t help that his ex-wife Denise was busting his balls yet again. You’d think considering the fact they had no kids, they didn’t work together or live together, that she already had someone new,andshe’d gotten everything in the fucking divorce would mean that she had no business anywhere near him. But you’d be wrong.
It would seem he had been a serial killer in a previous life, being punished with the most unrelenting, manipulative pain in the ass woman to ever walk the face of the earth.
Like it wasn’t bad enough she’d gotten the house and all their shit, while he got all the goddamned bills, but she still called him when the faucet was leaking, or she had a fight with her boyfriend. She drunk dialed Elliott in the middle of the night to regale him with their good ole days. While he struggled to recall any good ole days at all.
With a frustrated sigh, he slammed the pages onto his thighs before collecting them into a semi-tidy pile and tucking them under his arm. Maybe working at the rink wasn’t what he needed today. He stood up and descended the steps down to the boards to watch the maneuvers on the ice for a few minutes before leaving.
The thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds were his favorite to watch play. Hungry, determined, and not quite old enough to know how good they were or let their egos get in the way of just playing some damn good hockey.
The ice was split at the top of the circles for two-on-one drills. The play area was cut in half so two smaller drill teams could work side by side. It was a fun exercise he loved to use for his own team, and one that worked on moving, thinking, being creative and some decision making thrown in there for good measure, too. A great all-round drill to see what skills the kids on the ice actually had.
The puck was dumped in the middle, forcing the players to work hard to get it to their side and create a two-on-one situation. At that point, the team whodidn’twin the puck had the opportunity to make it a three-on-one, or a three-on-two if they wanted by crossing the middle line and joining the guys who had won possession.
As the drill unfolded, one of the forwards remained in his zone while his teammates made a three-on-two situation in the other side of the ice. The rule was he could be anywhere within his space—a high-risk, high-reward ploy, leaving him by himself as his teammates pursued the puck in the other zone.
Whoever the kid was needed to bend his knees and move his stick a little more, but he smacked his blade on the ice, calling for the biscuit as his linemate picked up the puck and sailed it back into their area to his waiting stick. He glanced up at the net, didn’t hesitate, took a swing and scored.
Nice.
Their coach—Will Morrison—, was busy explaining something to the defenseman on the other team so Elliott decided to bestow a little wisdom on the boy.
“Hey, kid.”
Three kids glanced his way, but none of them was the one he wanted. He pointed at number six, and his teammate tapped his stick on his shin before pointing it towards Elliott at the edge of the rink.
Elliott jerked his head in ac’meremotion.
As the kid skated, he removed his helmet and jammed it under his elbow. “Yeah, Coach?”
Elliott was surprised by his response. Most of the young teens on the ice wouldn’t have had the first clue who he was yet. “Nice play. Patience is important out there, and you stayed aware of the puck despite the fact it probably wouldn’t have come back to you.”
He was saying things the kid already knew, but he liked to start his feedback with the good stuff. That way his players knew there were things about their game that were solid before he got to what they could improve on.
“Bend your knees a little more, it’ll help.”
The kid nodded like he’d been told that a thousand times.
“And keep that stick active.”
That one seemed to give him pause and his brows crashed together in a frown.
