Page 20 of The Coach

“Maybe we can meet again in May,” I reply, watching the hope that had returned to his face slide away again… “It’s not that long.”

“The entire school year.”

“Right,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re right, that’s dumb.”

Suddenly, he pulls me into him, my heart beating fast as he tucks me into his arms, holding me tightly. I feel safe in his arms.

Amazing how fast I can go from him being a complete stranger to wanting to know everything about him.

God, this is hard.

I step out of his arms a little, and he leans down, placing a light, chaste kiss on my lips, lingering slightly as he holds me to him.

“You’re a wonderful woman, Mick,” he replies just as my car is pulled up. He walks me around to the driver's side door, opening it for me, and watching as I climb in. My heart and head are still fighting with themselves.

I didn’t want to leave, but I was a responsible person who didn’t want to hurt anyone else. I had to. Right?

“I’ll see you at the games, right?” he asks, unsure and conflicted. I can see it all over his face.

Words get lodged in my throat, all the ones I want to say are right on the tip of my tongue.

But in the end, all I say is, “Y-yeah. See you at the games.”

Tanner nods and shuts my door, stepping back and waiting for me to pull away.

As hard as it is, I do it.

It’s for the best, I tell myself.

But if that’s true, why does it feel so wrong?

eight

TANNER

I’m still wallowing in my thoughts a few days later when my best friend from my pro hockey days calls me up.

He was one of my first friends on the Bandits back in the day, and we remained friends all the way through him finding his wife—who also became one of my best friends—marrying her and having a few kids. They were up to three and were the vision of perfection that I want for myself. He retired just last year, making his hockey career last two years longer than my own.

He surprises me by telling me he’s in town, and for once, I’m grateful for the distraction.

It’s been a week since the date with Mick. The one where I finally found a mature, responsible adult that I could really connect with. Too bad she was too responsible.

I wasn’t mad about it. I understood her reasoning and couldn’t lie and say they were silly reasons. They weren’t. I just didn’t want to think about it.

I didn’t want to think about the fact that I finally, finally, found a woman I could connect with on more than one level, who got me, who made me laugh, who was more than I could ask for.

And I couldn’t have her.

I also really wanted to stop thinking about the fact that I was bound to see her in the stands this weekend at the game.

Stopping my brain from derailing on thoughts about her was impossible, though, what with her brother running around the locker room, killing it on the ice, and as a captain of the team.

I saw some of her in him, that lightness, that happiness, and it made me surlier toward him than I should have been.

I arrive at the restaurant about forty-five minutes away from my house where Devon was waiting and immediately spot him in the back. He stands and shakes my hand, smacking me on the back in greeting.

“Boy, you are a sight for sore eyes,” he says, sliding back into his side of the booth. I claim my side and grin at my friend.

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