Page 25 of No Pucks

“I’ll get down anytime you tell me to!”

I hiss but don’t reply, knowing it will bring more attention to his comment. Hockey guys are crude. I know that, every coach and player knows it. If I hadn’t come down his throat, I wouldn’t be thinking twice about the comment. I’d probably laugh.

“Cox, you’re not in sync with Ridgeway.”

“Which one?” he calls back.

“Either!”

“Three-way! Got it.”

I sigh.

In the process of trying to find my lines and who plays best together, I’ve moved guys in and out of places to find the magic. The Ridgeway brothers have it, even if one of them is a bit of a wild card, never looking like he has slept enough or seen the sun.

I grab the notepad I keep in my back pocket and write myself a note to get in touch with the nutritionist about his meal plans. He needs some vitamins or something, but mostly, I just want to put it on the training staff’s radar in case he’s dealing with an underlying condition.

Cox meshes with this line a lot better than the other two, but he’s still too much of a solo player to work well with the other wing and center. If the three of them can get on the same page, they’d be unstoppable, but getting players to find that click is a mysterious thing all coaches chase.

“Savage, get lower. No, not like that.”

No one’s damn head is in the zone. Our first game is in less than a week, and I cannot get this team to play together cohesively.

I’mhoarse by the time I get to my office. I need a damn mega phone. I drop into my desk chair, rubbing right above my knee. I need a drink, or forty. Or maybe I need to get laid. I’m almost desperate enough to try an app, but I can’t take the risk of not being out yet. I want to settle into the team before that news leaks, and I know I won’t find what I want, that push and pull I know Logan will give in a second.

I wait longer than I know is necessary to make sure Logan is gone this time. The fucking Coxes. It’s bad enough I fucked him when his dad is the one who did this to me. I don’t need to give him any fucking ammunition. I’m not in the right headspace to turn him down tonight.

Krista: Come to the bar with me.

Anthony: I don’t know if I can.

Krista: You need to get out. I’m not letting you get depressed again.

Anthony: It’s not that. I’m hurting.

I know she’ll ask. It’s easier to get around with it. I don’t ever want to use a cane when I’m coaching, but today did a number on me. My fucking pain management doesn’t seem to be working, and there was no way I was getting out of the building without it. Maybe it’s ego, and I know I should use it, but I don’twant the team to see me like that yet. They won’t respect me, and I have a high mountain to climb in taking over Rex’s team.

Krista: are you taking your meds?

I roll my eyes.

Anthony: Yes, I actually am. I learned my lesson last time.

Krista: I believe you—for now.

Krista: But still, come out. A drink or three will help relax your muscles.

Krista: And you need to get laid.

Anthony: Is that medical advice?

Krista: Fuck no. I’m off the clock. It’s friend advice.

Anthony: One drink, but not far. I can’t walk.

Krista: I’m calling your broke ass a car.

Anthony: I’m not broke. Just cheap.

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