Page 45 of Mile High Coach

“Alright, boys.” I skate through the drills taking place and clap a couple of the guys on the back, watching as they swing their sticks and tip their heads up for a breath of air. “Water break for five, then back on the ice to scrimmage. I want to go over what we’re doing in another Kraken situation.”

We’ve been running drills hard all morning. Mostly, I don’t want to give any of them the chance to talk about Greenhill. It’s been in the news, and all over social media, since the day that he went missing.

Some people think that he was kidnapped. Others are pointing out all the signs that this was going to happen for a long time—his rising debts, his recent divorce. Tonight, a special interview is coming out with his ex-wife, and the only thing I know about it is that it’s going to fuck up our headspace.

A lot of these guys were friends with the fucker. They were betrayed when he dropped them like that, and shocked that they missed the signs of his gambling addiction.

Lovie and I have already gone through it—the combination of the news about Greenhill and our lines being out of sync led tothe final run of the game—a power play with two minutes left on the clock because Kipling couldn’t keep his fucking gloves on.

“I still can’t believe we won that game,” Ruby Nadler, the skills coach, says, skating over to me with her water in hand. She’s wearing the same standard uniform of all our coaches—a warm tracksuit in dark navy, the little crab logo on the right pocket. Her hair is slicked back from her face and held there by a thin white headband, and it makes me think of Lovie.

Everything makes me think of Lovie.

“Yeah, you and me both,” I say, forcing myself to stay present. With only half an hour left in practice, I’ll have plenty of time afterward to go to Lovie’s place.

It will be my first time going over there for a change.

It’s been nearly two weeks since our Friendsgiving at my place. Nearly two weeks since she fell asleep in my arms. Since she stayed at my place despite the fact that we didn’t have sex.

Something is changing between us, and it hangs in the air between us each time we’re together. Lovie hasn’t pointed it out, and I think I might know why—because there are so many reasons it would never work.

Our age difference. Her, wanting a baby. Me, still having the team as a top priority in my life. When I think about meeting her dad, it’s with the knowledge that he would be only a bit older than me. She’s already made it clear that she doesn’t want anyone to know about this agreement between us, so a public relationship is probably not in the cards.

“Coach?” Ruby asks, and I realize the guys are back, asking what to do, how I want them to set up the scrimmage. I wave at Deacon and the other assistant coaches to get it ready and skate to the boards myself, reaching for my water bottle.

There’s no doubt about it in my mind. I’m falling in love with that woman.

Of course I am, because there’s never been a time in my life that I could take the easy way out. Of course I had to fall in love with a girl twenty years younger than me who wants a baby more than anything in the world.

I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t have fallen for her, given the time and intimacy we’ve shared over the past weeks, ever since signing that stupid contract.

And now I have to figure out what I’m going to do about it.

For now, I force myself back into practice, letting the scrimmage distract me from the thoughts of Lovie that haven’t stopped since November—hell, since the moment I met her.

And, as though thinking of a new love has summoned her, I get a call from Eliza the second I’m stepping back into my office.

For a long moment, I stare down at my phone, at the blank silhouette picture above her name, where it used to show a photo of the two of us. There are no residual feelings for her within me, I realize—not even anger.

“Hello?”

“Oh—Harrison. You answered.”

“I did.”

An awkward pause stretches out between us, and I clear my throat. “Was there something you needed?”

“Oh,” Eliza pauses, clears her throat. “Sorry, I just—I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

“I can hang up, if you want.”

“No—I wanted you to answer. I want…well, I guess the same thing I’ve wanted for years—just to apologize for everything that happened. I’ve been talking to my therapist about it for a while, and she thinks getting closure with you might be a healing thing. For both of us.”

“Oh does she?” I laugh, but it feels goodnatured. When Eliza and I were twenty, young and wildly in love, I never could have imagined the day she’d be calling me because her therapist told her to.

“Yeah.” I can hear her smiling. “She did. So here it is—I’m sorry, Harrison. There were a lot of pressures, and our relationship wasn’t great, but I shouldn’t have betrayed you. More than anything, you were still my best friend. And I’m sorry for how things ended.”

Closing my eyes, I put one hand on the wall and let out a stream of air, finally saying to her what I’ve known to be true for a long time, “Obviously I wish you hadn’t fucked off with my best friend, but I know I played a part in it, too.”

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