Page 5 of Behind the Bench

Well, damn, it’s nice to hear that once in a while.

“Ellie is going to face a firing squad in the papers as a female assistant coach in the league. She’s only the second woman to ever stand on the bench of a NHL team. I’m trusting you to stand by me on this and have her back throughit all. I know you grew up playing against each other in Detroit. You may have been rivals your entire childhood, but you’re a team now. You think you can handle that?”

Do I think I can handle bossing Ellie around the rink and on the ice? Yeah, that won’t be a problem. I’ve been waiting my entire life to show her who’s boss.

Do I think we can play nice and work together to turn this team around? Not a chance in hell.

But I guess we’ll have to try. My career depends on it.

And there’s no way I’m letting Ellie Montgomery take that away from me.

Taking a seat at my desk, I lean back in my chair and relax for the first time since I stepped into the arena this morning. What a freaking day.

My morning started with a quick introductory meeting with Becky from HR. We had already gone over most of the paperwork via Zoom before I arrived in town, so we were actually able to take a quick tour of the management offices and media rooms. She showed me where postgame press conferences take place and she introduced me to some of the media team and announcers as well. Becky is wonderful and I can tell she’s not someone you should mess with. She’s extremely professional, straight to the point, and I respect the way she carries herself.

Everything was going fabulous and I was having such a great time meeting some of the staff. And then my meeting with Jerry happened. Let me rephrase that. Then, Lincoln Scott happened.

Lincoln Scott is not only here, but he’s the head coach of the Bobcats.

I’m a ball of mixed emotions as I sit here and try to process what exactly that means. Does that make him myboss? I pinch the bridge of my nose as pressure begins to build. A migraine is the last thing I need right now.

It’s been nine years since I last saw Link. We crossed each other’s paths while I was playing an away game at his alma mater, the University of Michigan. He had some snide comments to make that day, as always.

My rivalry with Link was always a double-edged sword. At one end, his hateful remarks picked away at my confidence one word at a time. On the other end, it only motivated me more, causing me to work harder and prove myself to him and everyone around me. It was an interesting dynamic back then, and finding out today that I’ll be working alongside him has me wondering what the dynamic will look like behind the bench. I’m hoping our years apart and growing up means we’ll be able to put our past grievances aside, but I’m not too confident that will be the case.

When Link walked into the room, my heart jumped into my throat. He was the same guy I grew up with, but he was also completely different. All six-foot-three of him filled his suit as if it was specifically made for him. Hell, maybe it was. The jacket hugged his broad shoulders and biceps perfectly. His muscles were defined, but he wasn’t busting at the seams. It appears that even though Link is no longer playing, he’s still staying in shape. His hair was damp and a few strands were loose across his forehead. He smelled fresh, as if he just took a shower, and a hint of woodsy leather hit my nose, stealing my attention.

But it was his eyes that caused me to fall dumbstruck. As green as the finest Christmas tree, they peered into my own and held me captive. I’m not sure what was hiding behind them. It felt like anger, surprise, and a little bit of curiosity too.

We somehow managed to get through a brief introductory meeting with Jerry without showing any signs of animosity. Although, when we shook hands, the calluses of his rough ones rubbed against my skin, alerting my nerve-endings andmaking me aware of every place his hand touched mine. The heat from his hand infused my whole body with warmth, his thumb absentmindedly stroking back and forth, once, twice, before he pulled away sharply as if his hand was scorched, a frown on his face.

After the awkward hand shake and quick meeting, Link showed me around the rink, on Jerry’s request. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it wasn’t torturous by any means. I mean, that is until we ran into the other assistant coach, Grayson. What a douchebag. Grayson’s barely taller than my five-ten height. I’d say he isn’t even six foot. He has a ridiculous mustache and cold, brown eyes that assessed me up and down. When we shook hands, the first thing out of his mouth was, “Who’s the Barbie doll?”

His snide remark rubbed me the wrong way immediately. I’ve dealt with guys like Grayson my entire life. Working with them can be extra challenging, but instead of cowering, it only motivates me more to prove my worth.

Luckily our meeting with Grayson was interrupted by a few of the players. They aren’t required to be at the rink, but many of them choose to get some ice time in over the summer, and with the season fast approaching, it was nice to see the dedication from some of the young guys.

I stare up at the ceiling, wondering what I did to deserve having Link hired alongside me when I hear my phone chime. Grabbing it from my bag, I see it’s Sadie and swipe across the screen to read her message.

SADIE

How did it go?

It was…interesting.

SADIE

What the heck does that mean? I can feel your energy from here. Did you get fired already?

lol no, Sadie. My energy is fine. I just met the head coach.

SADIE

Is he hot?

I let out a sound that’s a half laugh, half cry. Quite frankly, I’m not sure what you would call it, but it definitely isn’t cute.

SADIE

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