Page 17 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

Chapter Nine

Bobby

Kaitlyn texted me the name of an anger management counselor last night with strict instructions not to be late for my first video appointment later today. I told her to go feed her newborn. To which she sent back the middle finger emoji.

I’m grateful for her help, I really am, but I’m also not looking forward to airing my childhood crap and innermost feelings to a total stranger who will psychoanalyze me and find me sorely lacking. I already know I have a problem—Coach has made that abundantly clear—but to talk to a counselor about all of it? That shit is fundamentally opposite of the Rhodes family way. We stuff down those pesky things called emotions and chug a beer to wash it down.

Picking up Molly this morning is just about the only bright spot in what’s sure to be a long day. The woman is wearing a dress today as she steps out of her light yellow house with a purse bigger than my hockey bag slung over her shoulder. The deep blue dress with a cinched in waist looks exactly like what that weather chick was wearing the other night. The one Richiewas whacking off to. I can see the appeal, now that I’ve seen Molly in that type of dress, though I do still miss the pencil skirt. I wave and get a hesitant lift of her hand in return.

I hop out and take the purse from her, storing it in the back of the truck. She can’t get into the thing without my assistance, not without flashing her entire neighborhood. I mean, I wouldn’t mind as long as I’m part of the neighborhood who gets the show, but I’m sure Molly would prefer not to flash anyone. I give her my hand and she takes it, flicking a glance behind me.

“Good morning, sunshine.” She doesn’t answer me, just lets out a groan that has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, thinking about other ways in which I could get her to groan like that. I lean in. “Did you say something?”

Molly’s eyes widen and she squeezes my hand. “Nothing!”

Disappointed, I help her into the truck and wait until she gets those tantalizing high heels in before closing the door. They’re not as high as yesterday’s but they still make her legs look fantastic. I shake my head and round the hood. I catch a flicker of movement at the window of her next-door neighbor’s house. No one’s there though, so I hurry into the vehicle, not wanting to be late to practice today. Nothing pisses Coach off more than any of us being late.

“You look lovely today,” I say as I back out and head out of her neighborhood.

Molly’s cheeks flush, making her look even lovelier. “Thanks. I have a few meetings today. You?”

I gape, clutching my chest for extra dramatics. “You’re cheating on me? Seeing other clients?”

Molly flicks a glance my way, like she’s double checking I’m teasing her. She rolls her eyes, and I feel like maybe, just maybe, we’ve reached a point in our friendship—clientship??—where she’s starting to feel comfortable around me. “Yes, I dohave multiple clients. The world does not revolve around you, Robert.”

Well, fuck. Just like that, I’m inappropriately turned on. Why do I like her calling me that all of a sudden? Kaitlyn might be right. I really am a sick puppy in need of a counselor. “Well, I’m shocked and horrified. You’re my only realtor. Seems only fair we make this monogamous.”

Molly’s laugh makes my morning. “What are you doing today?”

I get off the freeway at the exit for her office and come to a stop at a red light. “I have practice. We have a home game tomorrow night against Minnesota. They’ve beat us the last couple times we’ve played them, so I’m sure Coach will be riding our asses to win this time.”

Molly’s giving me a smile I could stare at all day. “You’ll get ‘em this time, tiger!”

I bark out a laugh and take off as the light turns green. “I’m not sure which I like best: you calling me Robert or tiger.”

Her intensifying blush is the cherry on top. I pull up to the curb outside her office and turn to face her. “I’ll follow up with the mechanic. If you need a ride home before they’re done, just text me. Otherwise, I’ll have them drop the car off here.”

She shakes her head. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to pay an unexpected car repair bill without having to worry about how I’m going to put food on the table.”

“Hey, I wasn’t always rich. I grew up middle class and picked on by four older brothers. Not saying I don’t enjoy the finer things in life now, though.” I smooth my hand over Wolverine’s pristine steering wheel before hopping out and coming around to help Molly down. I get a whiff of her perfume and feel a little guilty for keeping the bottle the other day. She probably had to buy a new one.

I hand her the purse and watch her walk into the office, hips a mesmerizing sway. Coco waves from the door, shooting me a wink like she knows exactly what I’m staring at. I zoom away from the curb and break all the speed limit laws to get to practice on time.

Coach is already in quite a mood, barking at Mac for goofing off even before we’ve taken the ice. Not even assistant coach Wainwright can run enough interference to keep us from feeling like we’re getting singed by Coach’s wrath. He puts us through a grueling set of drills, not even letting us take a water break until we’re two hours in. After another hour of scrimmage, he calls the practice and yells at us to get to the weight room for training.

“Who shat in Coach’s Cheerios?” Druggy mumbles, accent thick as ever. He sucks in a deep breath and pushes through a set of leg presses while Banks and I take our rest. I volunteered to train with the old guys today, following Kaitlyn’s advice about appearing wise and mature. Not that these fuckers have cornered the market on either of those things.

“Is past tense shit really shat?” Benny asks, wiping his face with a towel.

I manage a laugh despite my burning lungs and legs. “Say that five times fast.”

Druggy slams the pins into place and stands up. Benny and I have to take off two plates on either side before we can complete our sets. Druggy is a beast. We move on to step-ups on a thirty-six inch plyometric box. Benny is dripping sweat during his set, probably due to his glutes being weak. I told him his ass was going flat last week with all the sitting after Mei was born. He just flipped me off, unperturbed by developing a flat ass. That’s what becoming a parent does to you, I guess. Count me out of that shit. I’ll have a poppin’ ass for the ladies well into my eighties, kids or not.

“Either of you know a charity I can start working with?” I ask out of the blue, remembering that particular item on the list Kaitlyn gave me. “Kaitlyn told me beating a few old ladies’ butts at tile games isn’t enough good will and all that.” Referring, of course, to the volunteer work we already do as a group at a retirement center.

Druggy sucks down water while Benny drops the dumbbells on the floor and looks like he might puke. He puts his hands on his knees and looks up at me. “I’m too old for this shit.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” I mutter under my breath. Contrary to when I first joined the team, I actually like Benny now, so I try to keep the teasing to a minimum. Kaitlyn’s a miracle worker, hence why I trust her with my career now too.

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