Page 96 of Behind the Bench

He tells me about the ridiculous songs Katie made him listen to on the drive over. I can’t help but laugh when I picture him sitting there listening to Spice Girls. Then he finally tells me what made Katie show up at his house the other day. Apparently she’s not feeling fulfilled with her job as a telehealth therapist anymore. She loves what she does, but she feels like something is missing. I don’t know what it’s like to feel unfulfilled in your job, but I do know what it feels like to feel like something is missing.

Once Lincoln is finished telling me all about his cousin, I turn my head to look at him. “So what is she going to do?”

Lincoln’s thumb is slowly rubbing my shoulder; the simple movement is sending shivers down my spine. I do my best to focus on our conversation, but can’t help but wish his hands and fingers were elsewhere. Crossing my legs, I try to pushdown the sensation that is building between them. Lincoln looks down at me and smirks, fully aware of the effect his touch has on my body.

“I’m not sure what she’s going to do. She’s always loved sports and we talked about her maybe getting a job with a team. She seemed pretty excited when I told her that a lot of teams and colleges are hiring therapists to be on their staff now. I told her all about the NHL’s Player Assistance Program. She had no idea there’s a program within the league that helps players deal with mental health, substance abuse, and other issues. I think she might look to see if there’s any openings there or with a team in the league.”

My body springs upward and I turn to look at Lincoln. “Oh my god, Lincoln. Isn’t our team therapist going on maternity leave next month?”

Lincoln looks dumbfounded for a moment and then leaps into action. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and starts vigorously typing on his phone. I hear the sound that signifies he just sent an email, and then he sets his phone face down on the arm rest of the couch. Before I can react, my face is in his hands and he’s kissing me senseless. Ending it all too soon, he pulls back and smiles at me. “You’re a genius, Montgomery.”

“Are you just now figuring this out, Scott?”

My sarcastic remark earns me a hair pull. It should probably piss me off, but it has me thinking about him taking me from behind with my hair wrapped around his fist. Heat replaces the mischief in his eyes and I curse silently to myself, wishing we were anywhere else but my parents’ house.

The reminder that my parents are in the next room is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on my head. All previous thoughts of us together are immediately washed out. Lincoln’s eyes move from my face to over my shoulder. I glance behind me and see my dad heading our way.

“I don’t mean to interrupt. Actually, that’s exactly what I mean to do.”

Lincoln laughs at the same time I groan. I throw my head back against the couch to create some distance between Lincoln and me. “What is it, father?”

Lincoln does his best to hide a snort and my dad fails at hiding his own. “Pulling out the father card means I’m doing my job. I’m just wondering if Lincoln wants to stay for dinner. I know it’s Christmas Eve, but he’s more than welcome to join us.”

I turn to look at Lincoln, biting my bottom lip, hoping he doesn’t have plans tonight. Selfish? Probably. But the thought of spending Christmas Eve with him makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. I shrug my shoulders at him. “You have plans?”

Not breaking eye contact for even a second, he threads his fingers through mine. “I’m looking at ’em.”

As soon as we got to my aunt and uncle’s house, I knew I needed to see Ellie. I said my hellos, took a quick shower, and was back in my cousin’s car heading over here before I even had a plan.

The entire drive back to Michigan I was thinking about her. She mentioned she had planned to talk to her mom, and more than anything I wanted to be there to support her. The moment she opened that front door, I knew I made the right decision in coming here.

We just finished up a delicious Christmas Eve dinner and it was less awkward than I was expecting. We talked about the season and our upcoming game against Detroit. Her parents asked me about my aunt, uncle, and cousin. Apparently, Ellie’s dad and my uncle went to high school together. I don’t know how I didn’t know that. Or maybe I did know at one pointand I chose to block that fact out along with many other things from my childhood. Either way, it was really nice of them to ask about my family and not have to answer questions about my parents.

Ellie is washing dishes and her mom is helping her load the dishwasher, which leaves me alone at the dining room table with her dad. This may be more awkward than crashing their Christmas Eve dinner. All of a sudden I’m anxious. I’m not sure if Ellie told her parents about us. She still doesn’t know I vaguely told Katie either. We haven’t really had the chance to talk alone since I got here. My knee starts bouncing up and down while my fingers drum on top of the table.

Her dad seems to sense the nervous energy bouncing off me and does his best to break the tension. “How about a drink, Lincoln?” He nods his head toward the bar cart that sits on the far wall of the dining room.

I blow out a breath. “I’d love a whiskey.”

He stands from his chair and makes his way to the bar cart. Grabbing two glasses from a lower shelf, he places them on top of the cart before uncorking a bottle of Blanton’s. He pours us each a glass, neat. The man has good taste, I’ll give him that.

Once he makes his way back to the table, I do my best to remember my manners and stand so I can take my glass. “Thanks, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Sit down, sit down. And none of that Mr. Montgomery stuff. That’s my father. Call me Jack.”

I take my glass from him and nod. “Of course. Thanks, Jack.”

We sit there, silently sipping our whiskey. I’m not sure what to say or do. The only thing I know about Ellie’s father is that he was one of the best players in the NHL when I was a kid. He was fast, had the smoothest hands, and had one of the best shots in the league. I secretly wanted to be him when I grew up, a fact I had to keep hidden from everyone once Ellieand I started playing against each other. The only conversation starter I can think of is asking for his autograph, and I’m definitely not about to do that. Thankfully, he breaks the silence before I can embarrass myself.

“The team looks impressive this year. I can’t say that I’m surprised, though. You’ve made quite the name for yourself the past few years. Hell, winning back-to-back Stanley Cups with Boston after only your second year as assistant coach is quite the resume. You’ve done good, kid.”

Emotion gets caught in my throat and I cough, trying to clear it away. The fact that this NHL Hall of Famer has followed my career in any capacity has me on cloud nine. Neither of my parents have ever bothered to reach out, not that I’d want them to. I don’t know if they even know what I’ve done with my life, how far I’ve made it in spite of them.

I set my glass down on the table and lean onto my forearms. “Thank you, Jack. That means…more than I care to admit coming from you. Thank you.”

Jack sets his glass down and mirrors my position, leaning his forearms on the table as well. “You deserve to be told what a great man you’ve become. Many others would’ve given up after a career-ending injury, but you didn’t. You refused to stay down, fought to get back up, and followed a new dream. You proved everyone wrong and became the youngest head coach in NHL history. What you’ve done is amazing, son. And from everything I’ve heard about you from my daughter, I’m not the only one who notices. You’re a good man, Lincoln.”

I look over his shoulder to see Ellie staring at us from the kitchen. I’m not sure if she can hear our conversation, but from the smile on her face, I think she can. She turns back around and continues her own conversation with her mom and I move my eyes back to Jack.

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