Page 25 of Behind the Bench

“I didn’t say this meeting was over. Sit your ass back down so we can finish and get the hell out of here.”

Like a good obedient dog, Grayson sits back in his seat. I’m not entirely sure what his deal is with Ellie, but it’s not like I’m so innocent myself. Not too long ago I would’ve been way too happy for her to step away from this job. But the more I get to know her as a coach and as a person, I’m beginning to see that this picture of her I’ve had made up in my head for so long isn’t an accurate depiction of who Ellie truly is. She’s focused, sharp, a team player, and one of the most driven people I’ve ever met. Why can’t Grayson open his eyes and see that too? If we want to be successful this season, he’s going to have to try.

He mumbles, “Yes, sir,” before getting back into our discussion about defensive pairings.

I’m doing my best to stay focused on this conversation and not get distracted by the blonde and her friend out in the hallway. Luckily for me, they walk away moments later, and we’re able to wrap up our meeting.

I’m left alone in the family room and suddenly feel a migraine coming on. I rub my fingers in small circles at my temples, trying to relieve the pressure that’s building.

I have a feeling that this Grayson issue isn’t going away anytime soon. And for whatever reason, whenever he says something about Ellie, my inner Hulk threatens to come out. Is it because he’s inappropriate or is it because it’s Ellie?

Both. Definitely both.

The only reason I’m reluctant about going to HR and the GM is because this team just got over a nasty scandal and we’re basically out of money. If we fire him, where does that leave us? Can we even afford an interim assistant coach? Hell, the season hasn’t even officially started yet. What a mess.

My frustration gets the best of me. “Fuck!” I yell to absolutely no one at all.

“You all right, big guy?”

I turn to see Hunter leaning against the doorframe with a smartass look on his face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie through my teeth.

He huffs out a laugh. “Sure sounds like it. Pack your shit. You’re coming with me.”

I do as I’m told because I don’t want to be here a second longer anyway.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I follow him out to the employee parking lot.

“You look like you could use a beer.”

I start to protest but stop short when I see he’s raising his eyebrow at me like The Rock. Damn, that’s impressive.

I put my stuff in my car before hitting the lock button on my key fob. “Fine. But you’re driving. And buying.”

Hunter smiles and unlocks his car. “Always happy to be your DD, Coach.”

I climb in his passenger seat and flip him off before buckling my seat belt.

He’s not wrong, though. After that moment with Ellie before practice, and that shit show of a meeting with Grayson, I could use a beer.

Or twelve.

Hunter drives us downtown to a local bar we’ve gone to a few times.

There are TVs everywhere, playing mostly baseball games since the race for the playoffs is coming to an end, and a decent sized bartop at the back of the bar. There’s also a dining area at the front that we opt not to sit in because it’s pretty packed with families and kids. I’m sure no one would recognize me, but I’d rather not listen to kids scream and cry when I’m already so on edge.

After walking to the back and finding two empty stools at the end of the bar, we order our drinks. I opt for a whiskey on the rocks rather than a beer because after the day I’ve had, I deserve something stronger. I down half the glass and turn to see Hunter looking at me.

“What?” I ask from behind my whiskey glass.

His fingers tap against his glass of water as his gaze assesses me. “You want to tell me what had you so worked up back there at the rink?”

I set my glass down on the bartop. “Not really.”

“Lincoln.”

The tone of his voice has me surrendering. Hunter was one of my closest friends back when we played in the NHL together. After my injury, we kind of drifted apart, but henever stopped checking in on me. When I became a coach in the league, whenever we’d play against each other, we’d made a promise to always get dinner together if possible, or at least meet up before or after the game. Next to my cousin Katie, he’s the closest thing to a friend that I have.

Downing the rest of my whiskey, I tell Hunter about Grayson and all the rude comments he’s made about Ellie in front of me. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised, and when he tells me he’s heard him make comments about her as well, I grip my whiskey glass so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hand.

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