Page 26 of Knot Your Pucking Secret

This was what I was made to do.

I was never meant to be some big shot lawyer in a city on the other side of the country. I was always meant to be on the ice. Not as a player, but as the coach of the Cardinals. Although, with the bullshit display they just showed me, I’m pretty sure I could skate rings around them without even trying. In fact, I intend to let them know just that.

Today, I’m not Lennon. Today? I’m their coach. And this isn’t going to be easy, but it’s what I have to do. Even if it’s been a while since I’ve done this. I haven’t trained. Hell, the only exercise I did since leaving is the odd morning run or late night cardio at the gym on nights my mind refused to let me sleep. Now that I think about it, almost every night.

Bringing the whistle up to my lips, I blow, drawing the attention of the team. I skate over to the side to where Dominic stands, watching with his arms crossed. I toss the whistle at him, and he fumbles a little, before eventually catching it. With a wink, I spin around, skating over to stand before the players, a little nervous as they wait for my instruction.

“Who here has a pair of ears?” I say, my voice raised and echoing around the arena. I know there’s no real need for it. But part of me needs them to know I mean my shit. They all mumble a strange version of ‘yes coach’ or raise their hands.

“Good. So there’s no excuse for you not to use them.” I skate past them to stand behind where they are. They follow my movements, turning around to face me. I can feel my skin prickwith Holden and Dominic’s gaze, but I shake it off. If they don’t like the way I coach? They can pack their shit and leave. It’s hardly a fucking loss anyway.

“Two lines of forwards at center. Defense at the blue line. We’re running three-on-one rushes.”

The players exchange uncertain glances I can see through their helmets before slowly moving into position.

“You’ve all seen enough game footage this season to know exactly why we’re doing this.”

Nobody moves quickly enough, though I let the silence drag until it becomes uncomfortable.

“I’m going to teach you how to play hockey. For the familiar faces here, you can imagine what I thought when I watched the plays. Not good enough. Woods.” Holden’s head snaps toward me immediately. “Where the living fuck is Volkov?”

Every player on the ice turns to look at him. His jaw tightens, and I know just how unnerved he is with me being here. Wouldn’t have it any other way.

“He’s…on leave, Coach.”

“Is that right?” I shrug, clicking my tongue before adjusting my stick. “Fine. I’ll take his spot.” I skate toward the blue line. “I can do his job in my sleep.”

I ignore the players as they exchange confused murmurs. I pretend I can’t hear them.

“She’s actually playing?” “Can she even play hockey?” “Volkov is the best in the league.”

But it’s Holden’s voice that takes me by surprise.

“Watch and learn, boys.”

I fight the smile that threatens to break my composure. Holden already knows I am no stranger to hockey, and the veterans here all learned the hard way. The newer faces, however, have no idea what’s about to happen. I almost envy them. There is something deeply satisfying about watchingthe moment confidence gives way to respect. Adrenaline hums beneath my skin as they skate into position.

My gaze lands on Holden’s. He doesn’t look away. His grip tightens around his stick, shoulders squaring as his jaw sets. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, the hesitation I had watched moments ago replaced by something far more familiar.

Determination.

Good.

For the first time since I stepped onto the ice, he looks like the hockey player I remember. He isn’t going to go easy on me. Not with the other players watching. Not with Dominic standing only meters away. Not after everything that has happened between us.

This isn’t about me.

It’s about proving to everyone else that he still deserves the letter stitched across his chest. A small part of me is relieved. The last thing I wanted was for him to treat me like glass. At least he hasn’t forgotten that part. Because I have no intention of treating him any differently. At least not where hockey is concerned.

I lower myself into my stance, knees bent, my stick resting lightly against the ice as I hold my gap.

“Three-on-one,” I call. “You score on me, you earn the rest of practice off.”

I can hear the movement and murmurs of the players, letting me know they like that idea. Wrong answer.

I don’t want them to head out. I want them to stay here until their ankles bleed and until they know what the fuck they’re doing. I’m aware of how hard I am being on them. But there is no other way a woman like me will be taken seriously. No other way that we’ll win. Especially after all the bullshit that’s set the team on their ass these past months.

“You don’t score…” I tilt my helmet to the side, giving a lazy shrug without ever taking my eyes off Holden’s “...you’re skating until I get bored.” A beat passes. “And I hate to break it to you, gentlemen.” A smile ghosts across my lips. “Hockey is my favorite pasttime, and boredom isn’t in my fucking vocabulary.” I tighten my grip on my stick and watch as Holden does the same. His shoulders roll back. He’s significantly taller than I am. Larger in every way. He may be a Beta, but this man rises to the Alpha occasion in ways I wish I could forget. As if he’s thinking of the same thing I am, he falters, his eyes growing darker as he stares back at me, but quickly shakes it off.