Page 78 of Behind the Bench

Sadie is sitting cross-legged on her bed with the sounds ofBridgertonblaring from the laptop that’s sitting in front of her. She hits pause on the show and looks up at me. “This better be good, because Anthony is half-naked right now and I’ve been waiting all season for this.”

I belly flop onto her bed and dramatically drop my face into her purple comforter. I turn my head so my words are muffled. “My mind is running a millionmiles a minute, wondering what Lincoln is hiding from me and I have a game in four hours. Help me!” It comes out a little whinier than I intend, but hopefully Sadie realizes how desperate I am for her help.

“Weren’t you two just howling in your room an hour ago? It sure sounded like everything was fine.”

My head snaps up at a record speed. “You could hear us?”

Sadie closes her laptop and pats me on the head. “The whole apartment complex probably heard you two, sweetheart.”

Groaning, I drop my face back into her comforter. I give myself a second to collect my thoughts and lift my head to apologize. “I’m sorry, Sadie. This is your home too. I’d never want to make you feel uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.”

Sadie gets up from her bed and opens her closet door. “It’s okay, Ellie. I know you weren’t trying to make me feel uncomfortable. But I appreciate the apology.”

She makes her way out of her closet and smacks my ass with a yoga mat. She’s going to help me get my shit together. Bless her little heart.

“Get up. We’re doing a quick fifteen-minute yoga session to get your head on straight. Now get down here and get into constructive rest pose.”

I get off the bed and lay my mat out while Sadie turns on some soothing, nature sounds through her Bluetooth speaker that’s sitting on her dresser. Once she’s done with that, she joins me on the floor on her own mat.

I’ve done this so many times with her, I get into the opening position like she says, lying flat on my back with my knees bent, feet on the floor, and my arms relaxed against the ground.

Sadie helps me work through my breathing and guides me through a quick, but productive, meditation session. It’s like everything else fades away. It’s me, my mat, and my breathing. With each exhale of my breath, I let a worry go. After themeditation, she leads me through some light stretches. After about ten minutes, not only does my body feel great, but my mind is feeling better too. There’s just something about yoga that soothes my body and soul. Sadie is a magician at leading the way too.

“Wow, Sadie. Fifteen minutes and I feel like a million bucks.”

She jumps to her feet and shrugs her shoulders. “What can I say? I’m your own personal Buddha.”

I give her a quick hug and rush to my room to get dressed for the game tonight. I choose a green business suit I just bought. I do a quick turn in front of the full-length mirror that’s in my closet and decide this may be one of my favorite game day suits yet. The green not only looks classy, but also reminds me of the color of Lincoln’s eyes as he hovers above me in bed.

And now I’m thinking about Lincoln again. I have a problem.

It’s becoming harder and harder to hide the way that man affects me at work. I have to look away any time he raises his voice at the team, because the tone and fierceness of his words has me wanting to rip his clothes off. I’ve discovered many new kinks since this thing started between us, and I’m loving every minute of it.

Taking a few deep breaths, I calm my pounding heart and refocus.

Visualization has always been an effective technique for me on game days. Even as a coach, I use the technique to visualize game strategies and emotional responses to situations that may happen during the game. It’s also been extremely beneficial in keeping my composure on the bench.

My passion is often mistaken for being overly-emotional. It’s ridiculous but that’s the narrative the slimeballs in the press and on the internet have created for me. I’m usuallyquick to brush them off, but I also do my best not to add fuel to the fire.

I grab my favorite game day heels, a comfortable pair of black Steve Madden’s, and head off to the rink, in search of another win.

It’s been one hell of an aggressive game, and we’re tied at three going into overtime. We have five minutes to score before this thing heads into a shootout. As exciting as shootouts are, I’d rather end this thing during three on three.

We only have a couple minutes before overtime will start. It’s the regular season, so the Zamboni won’t come out to resurface the ice. Hunter and Lincoln make their way toward me at the far end of the bench.

Hunter grabs his small notepad from his pants pocket. “It looks like they usually start their young guns for overtime. At least they did in all the game tapes I watched. So they’re gonna try to win with speed.”

Lincoln and I nod at Hunter’s notes, both trusting his predictions completely. Lincoln is usually the one who decides personnel in these types of situations, but instead he looks to me.

“Ellie, who should we put on the ice with Jefferson?”

Most of the guys are on the bench, with a few on the ice against the boards huddled around them. The ones close enough to hear look up to me at Lincoln’s question.

I look down the bench at the rest of the team, contemplating who is best to counter the speed of the other team. “Well, Niko is still one of our fastest players, and with the way they’ve been connecting lately, he should be out there.”

Hunter smiles and nods, agreeing with my assessment. Iexpect Lincoln to decide the third player and call out the starting line, but again, he looks to me.

“That’s two. One more. You’re leading the way on this one, Montgomery.”

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