Page 83 of The Coach

I step on behind him, Tanner skating backward and keeping his eyes on me. I don’t question it but smile when he speeds up. It’s been a minute since I’ve been on the ice, but it’s almost like I never left at all, the movement comes so fluidly to me.

We skate around the outer rim of the rink, taking our time and keeping each other in sight. He takes off, going fast enough that I’m nowhere near keeping up with him. I watch his speed in awe, wondering if that’s why his nickname was ‘The Bullet’ when he played in the pros and wishing I hadn’t boycotted pro teams after Mark. I missed out on a lot of fun watching Tanner dominate the ice.

He makes his way back to me, skating backward again and grasping my hands in his own.

“Jump,” he says and gives me a tug. I don’t quite understand, but I do what he says, reaching for him and letting out a little squeal. His arms come up under my thighs, and he holds me to him, instructing me to wrap my legs tightly around him and hold on to his shoulders.

I let him hold me, trusting that he’s not going to drop me, and we skate for a while just like that. I can tell he has a lot on his mind, that he needs the skating and the silence and the comfort of my just being there.

So I say nothing and let him hold me, and we skate.

thirty-five

TANNER

The sun nearly blinds me as it moves over my car, shining in through the front windshield.

I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour, dreading my last walk into the arena for my last game as head coach of the Vapors. I don’t know how to feel about it.

I knew that this was the risk I was taking, and I knew I had made the right choice in picking Mick. And even though I knew all of those things, I still hate that I was now forced to give up my dream job.

Leaning my head against the headrest, I think about last night, about holding her in my arms while we skated together, how great and happy I had felt just holding her like that. I want more of that.

I want to skate with her, to have fun again, to teach future kids of ours to skate and love the game we both love. I want that future; therefore, I was okay with my choices.

Didn’t make it burn any less.

I don’t know what the team knows either. I don’t have a clue if they’ve been told this is the last game or if they’re blind to what is going on right under their noses. Lincoln was aware, so it wouldn’t have been outlandish for word to have spread to the rest of the team, making it team-wide knowledge.

I battled with myself all week, debating what I should and shouldn’t tell them. Obviously, they would know when Lee and Jeff stepped up for the rest of the season and took over, or if they hired another coach for the end. I almost wish they wouldn’t, that they wouldn’t throw another wrench in this team this close to the end.

But I have no control over it, and I need to let it all go.

I take another deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm myself.

It was an hour until game time, and the parking lot was filling. I could see the signs and posters, the black, white, and rose gold colors that both represented “vapors” and Northridge on the backs of everyone in the form of team jerseys. Mick was in that crowd somewhere, walking in with her friends and her parents. I made sure to get them the best seats I could find so they could be close and together for my last game.

Mick was unsure if she would attend another Vapors game this year, her loyalty to me and her anger with her brother still severe. I couldn’t blame her. She told me he cornered her after work yesterday, telling her he was sorry for not talking to her, telling her he didn’t rat us out—she was sure he was being truthful, but I have yet to see evidence.

I didn’t persuade her either way. If she felt called on to support her brother, I would never begrudge her that. Hell, I would watch, too. I want this team to succeed, that’s never been a question. So I would get over my anger at being let go and hope they could pull it out in the end even with this change.

I sigh, looking at the clock and decide I’ve procrastinated enough. I didn’t want to hurt the team by not showing my face.

I step out of the car, adjusting my suit and grabbing my bag. Slinging it over my shoulder, I march into the arena, smiling at the crew working around me.

Normally, when I head toward the locker room on game day, there was loud music playing, guys yelling and shouting in excitement, hyping each other up. Today, as I neared the locker room, it was nothing but tense silence that I could feel from even out here. Outside the door were our media relations reps, and I nodded at them, wondering why they looked like they were kids in trouble, waiting outside the classroom.

I enter the locker room and blink at what I see. Not a single player on the team was dressed for warm-ups. Standing in front of them were Lee, Jeff, and Ed. There were no physical therapists, no trainers, no doctors. Just the three of them, staring at the team.

When I enter, Ed looks at me and relief comes over him. He walks toward me, and I look around at the team, a frown on my face.

“What’s going on?” I ask no one in particular. I note that Lincoln is the only one standing, arms crossed, staring down the coaches.

He’s brave.

“Mitchum, glad you showed up tonight.”

I glance at Ed, whose tone catches me off guard. Clearly, I’m not in the loop with the rest of them.

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