Page 16 of Sticks and Stone


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When I’d asked for a reference for Nova, he’d sat down straight after training and written me out a glowing recommendation. He’d looked me dead in the eye and told me that if I needed any fucking help, then just let him know, day or even in the middle of the goddamn night. Direct quote. He meant it too. And he’d say the same thing to every one of the guys on the team.

The goaltending coach was Dana Soukal, a forty-five-year-old Czech woman who said very little outside of coaching, but had a look that could shrivel your balls from twenty-five feet away. The rookies were petrified of her, the few players who tried hitting on her never looked her in the eye again, and I was fairly sure she wore PVC and cracked a whip on the weekends. The goalies grew balls of steel, but had some of the best stats in the NHL, so you couldn’t argue with that kind of record.

However, underneath all that tough exterior was a deceptively soft heart, and the hunger to succeed. She made us better, even if she was tough. You had to be in this sport, man or woman. But especially if you wanted to be a female coach. Fuck that shit. She’d also written us a reference, and while it didn’t have as many curse words, it was genuinely positive.

Probably didn’t hurt that Rigby was terrified of her, and therefore super polite. Thank goodness he wasn’t the goalie.

I probably deserved Coach Toon’s ire, because my head wasn’t in it today. It was back at the house, with a woman who barely came up to my chest and a baby that made me both happy and sad at the same time. He was where he should be, but also, he was a blinding reminder that Alana was gone.

And that I had an aching attraction to his new guardian.

I huffed, checking Ludo as we did our two-on-one drills. Bouncing off me, Ludo laughed as he got out in front and drove me into the boards.

“Asshole,” I grunted with the impact.

“Not my fault you're skating like my grandma out here.” Ludo was young, twenty-two, and had been playing with us for twelve months. I liked the smug little fuck.

“Not unless your grandma is Soukal.”

“She mightn’t be my grandma, but I’d still let her spank me and call me a bad boy,” he whispered, his eyes darting to the woman in question in case she heard. See? Smug.

“Only if you don’t mind her using her skates to slice off those brass ones you call balls, kid.”

Ludo laughed, and we ran the drill again.

Vanmussen, our captain and a veteran in the team, skated up to me. The guy made it look easy, but I knew that had more to do with rigorous conditioning than it actually being effortless. “How’d the thing go, Cooper? Julieta’s been asking me to ask you for days.” Julieta was Vanmussen’s wife. Tiny and fiery, she had her six-foot-two husband wrapped around her little finger.

He’d given me a personal recommendation that had made my eyes sting, writing things that no one had ever said about me, at least to my face. That I was a good man. That I was honorable and would give my last breath to the team, to his family. He wrote about the time I went around and did all his yardwork when he’d injured his knee, because Julieta was having her little sister’s quinceañera at their house the next day. How me and Rigby were the two men he could rely on in the team, that he knew would share the burden of leadership with him.

His words affected me far more than I’d ever say. I didn’t think anyone had ever praised me for anything but my hockey skills. Hockey was what I had. But Muss thought I was a worthy man, and that meant something to me. He hadn’t even asked what the reference was for; he just wrote it from the heart. I’d eventually told him, because I needed advice and he was the only good dad I knew.

“Good. They arrived yesterday.”

Muss slapped me on the back. “Man, I’m so fucking glad to hear it.” He dropped his voice low. “You’re gonna be an amazing dad, River. I know it in my heart. Julieta always says it when she sees you with the kids at parties.” Muss and Julieta had four kids between the ages of one and seven. We joked that he wanted to have a baby for every Stanley Cup win he’d had in his career.

I shrugged. “Never had much of an example, man. But they have DIY videos on the internet for everything now, including how to be a parent.”

Muss just nodded. I didn’t talk much about my past, and he never pressed. But I think, on some level, he knew that my childhood had been a giant fuck-up.

He gripped my shoulder again. “I’m here if you need me. Julieta said you guys should come over for dinner soon. I’m sure… what’s her name again?”

“Nova.”

“I’m sure Nova would like to know another mom in town. Some things you can only ask another woman, you know?”

I nodded. It was a good idea. “I’ll let you know.”

Muss punched me lightly in the chest. “You do that. Now get out there and run some two vs. twos. Ludo’s grandma could beat you right now.”

I rode home with Rigby, freshly showered but still aching from the workout. We’d be ready for this weekend's season opener, but it was against our bitter rivals, so I knew it was going to be a tough one. They were mouthy and mean, and I always wanted to punch their right winger in the face.

It was still mid-afternoon, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Nova and Huey had gotten up to today. Dev had taken the day off to get them settled, but tomorrow he’d have to go back to work. He’d been away too long, and I knew his little control freak heart would be losing it.

Would she be okay, home by herself all day with a baby? She’d looked so lost last night, staring at the photo of her parents, and it was easy to forget that we weren’t the only ones grieving. I’d wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms last night, and the sensation scared the fucking shit out of me.

“We should talk about Nova.” For a moment, the silence in the car was weighty.

“Didn’t we already talk about this?” Rigby said lightly, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. It had taken six years of friendship for me to relinquish enough control to let him drive. I hated being out of control of my life, even with something as simple as driving.

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