Page 82 of The Coach

I eye him sadly. “Lincoln, I hope that when the day comes for you to find the person you want to be with, you don’t have someone whispering in her ear that she should never trust you because you play hockey.”

With that, I step around him, slide into my car, and drive away. It’s difficult to leave my little brother like that, but he gave me very little choice.

The arena was loud tonight. Fans and family were filling every single spot, and I smile when they start the school's spirit chants. I wasn’t a chanter myself, but I enjoy watching everyone else partake.

I had two of the best friends in the world following behind me, Cassie and Vic both sneering at the surrounding crowds—Cassie more than Vic. Cassie would much rather be at home with a book, but knowing that my ‘affair’ as Vic loves to say, was possibly coming out tonight, they wanted to be here with me so that I wouldn’t be alone.

Mom and Dad were planning to come tomorrow to watch Tanner’s last game. Tonight, they opted to stay at home because Dad could only take so much.

I watch the guys warm up, sipping my beer and praying that the night goes by quickly and without too much bloodshed. My emotions can’t take too much more of it, and I knew Tanner was tense.

I see my brother skate past in front of our seats and feel his eyes on us, but I don’t look his way. I don’t stand and shake my jersey at him. I didn’t even wear his number tonight, and I don’t continue the tradition we’ve had the past two years because I just can’t.

Cassie rubs my arm, knowing that I was standing my ground.

I watch Tanner enter the arena when the announcers start talking, but I don’t pay them much attention, focusing on him and his rigid body posture. He’s talking with Lee and Jeff, and Jeff says something that makes him laugh. When the lights come back on and the game puck is almost ready to drop, Tanner looks over his shoulder at me, winks, and smiles before turning back toward the game.

Vic nudges Cassie and smiles. “Damn, it’s nice to see him acknowledging you.”

I frown. “It’s not like he was ignoring me before.”

She waves her hand, and Cassie leans back so she doesn’t get hit by it. “No, I know. I just mean that it’s nice he feels like he can flirt with his girl.”

Allowing a small smile to grace my lips, I can’t help but agree. “Yeah, it is nice.”

“It’s romantic, is what it is,” Cassie says, sighing heavily. Vic peeks at me from behind our friend’s head and rolls her eyes. I laugh at her. Cassie is a hardcore romantic, and we worry about her for when she finally does fall in love with someone, knowing that no matter how wonderful they may be, our friend will fall hard and fast.

I just hope they’ll be ready for her.

I let my focus lead back to the game, and I watch as hit after hit racks my brother and his teammates. The team they’re playing is from Michigan, and they’re not playing around. Each time an unfounded hit comes through, Tanner is yelling at the ref, his voice carries even to me. It’s hot, a little bit, I can’t lie about that.

But then my brother gets hit, rammed into the boards, and he spins on the player that just hit him. He tosses his gloves off, throws his stick down, and I watch the other player do the same as a fight breaks out in the middle of the game. I watch with one hand covering parts of my eyes, almost not wanting to watch at all. Blood sprays from someone, and I don’t know which, but I’m hopeful it’s not my brother.

I may be pissed at him, but I didn’t want him injured.

Well, maybe a little.

Finally, they get the teams pulled apart, and the game resumes like nothing happened. Only in hockey, I swear.

The game ends, 4-2 with Michigan taking the win, and I slump in disappointment. My phone pings with a message after the guys and coaches have all left the arena, fans filter out around us, and we stay seated to avoid the rush.

Wait in the arena.

Tanner’s text has me sitting back and showing the girls.

“You want us to wait with you?” Vic asks. “We can leave when he gets here so you still have privacy.”

“No, that’s okay.” I stand and give the girls hugs before making my way down to the box. The cleaning crew comes through, picking up all the popcorn and trash left behind. I give them polite smiles while they stare at the strange girl standing there long after everyone is gone.

After nearly an hour, the lights have dimmed on half of the rink, and the cleaning crew is nearly gone. I sit on a bench, waiting for Tanner. Hoping he didn’t forget me.

Thumps come from behind me, and I peek over my shoulder, smiling softly when I see Tanner making his way to me. He’s in his sweatshirt, gym pants and skates on his feet. He holds up another pair in his hand and says, “Will you skate with me?”

I can’t tell what his mood is like. I can’t decide if he’s happy, resigned, sad, confused, or angry at the loss of the game. But I don’t question it. I take the skates, slipping my feet into them, and before I can start to lace them up, Tanner kneels before me and takes the laces in his hands, expertly tightening and lacing me up.

I watch his hands work, his veins and muscles flexing and pulling tightly to get them on my feet correctly. I don’t know where he got me a pair of skates, but I imagine there’s no shortage of them in the equipment room.

He finishes tightening and tying the second skate and lends me a hand to stand up, each of us taking careful steps—likely for my benefit more than his—and making our way through the door and onto the ice.

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