Page 25 of If You Love Me

He catches it easily, sends it up, spins his stick behind his back, and still manages to land the puck on his blade, tossing it in the air once more before sending it my way. “It’s always survival for me, Coach Forrester. I get close to good things, and then they disappear.” There’s bite to his tone, but also another emotion. Sadness maybe. And resignation.

“Really?” I flip the puck back and forth half a dozen times before I flick it toward his non-dominant hand so he has to work a bit. “So you don’t think five years in the pros counts as a good thing?”

“My family sure doesn’t,” he grumbles.

“What about your grandma?”

He fumbles, and I catch the puck before it touches the ice.

“Nice moves, Coach Forrester,” Roman calls from the net.

I startle and almost drop the puck, but recover and shoot it instead. Even though Roman isn’t expecting it he stops the shot before it crosses the line.

“Nice save, Goalie,” I reply.

“I know what you’re doing,” Grace says.

“And what is that?”

“Trying to figure me out, get in my head. It’s a losing battle, Coach Forrester. Not worth the effort,” he replies.

“I can give you the name of a good therapist.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “I’d rather eat a cactus.”

“Good to know. Think about another goal. Survival is a start, but I want to see more from someone with your record on the ice, Grace.” I pat his shoulder and skate over to retrieve the puck from Roman.

His gaze locks on mine as I approach, and I feel the heat in it course through my body. “That’s some fan-fucking-tastic stick work, Coach.”

How he manages to make that compliment sound illicit is beyond me.

I arch a brow and he grins, eyes darkening.

I hold out my hand and he drops the puck into it. His voice is low. “And good work with Grace. You’re already making gains.”

The praise settles low in my belly, igniting another fire. One I need to ignore. But his approval is something I still crave, and my breathy response gives me away.

“Thanks, Goalie.”

Hemi pokes her head in my office later that afternoon. “A bunch of us are heading to the Watering Hole at five, if you want to join us.”

“Let me check in with my sister. I want to make sure it doesn’t conflict with her schedule.” Fee is at practice with Callie until six. In theory, I could go for half an hour, still beat them home and have dinner started. Plus, it’s another opportunity to connect with the team, but I want to make sure I’m not stepping over lines I shouldn’t with Vander Zee first.

“Sure thing.” Hemi smiles. “We’re heading over in about twenty. If you can make it work, just pop by my office and we’ll walk over together.”

“Sounds good.”

Hemi leaves to shut down for the day. Before I message Fee, I stop by Vander Zee’s office. He’s intense, but fair and I appreciate that about him. His door is open, but I still knock.

“Come on in.”

He’s standing at his whiteboard, players marked by their numbers.

“Planning out starting line-up for the Ottawa game?” I ask.

“Yeah. It works to keep Grace and Madden on separate lines for the most part.” He taps Palaniappa’s number on the board.

“But that will have to change eventually,” I supply.

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