Page 22 of Desire or Defense

I roll my lips together, not sure what to do in this situation. Tori gives me a sympathetic look. “It’ll all get smoothed out, okay?”

“Yeah, I'm sure you're right.” I force a smile.

I walk out to the car, feeling defeated. Just as I make it to my little sedan, I notice the headlights of a really nice vehicle parked a few rows over from us. The vehicle is sporty, black, and perfectly polished, so it stands out amidst the few cars still left. I wonder if it’s Mitch, but don’t know why he’d still be here.

Sliding inside my car, I glance at the expensive vehicle once more. It pulls out of its spot just as I’m buckling my seatbelt. Briefly, very briefly, I wonder if Mitch saw Noah come to the car alone and waited until I joined him before leaving, like he wanted to make sure Noah was safe by himself.

Nah… that doesn’t sound like the man who’s so grumpy and impatient with the kids. There’s no way.

Plus, I’m not even sure that was Mitch, anyway.

Adjusting my rear view mirror, I start backing out of the parking spot. “Are you sure you’re good with working with Coach Anderson?” I ask Noah, who hasn’t said a word yet. “I really thought you didn’t like him.”

Noah’s shoulder shrugs, but he keeps his gaze on the passenger window. “I don’t have to like him. He can help my game,” he says in a cold tone.

I nod and lift my hand to turn the music up a little, but right before I do, I hear Noah quietly say, “and he’s not so bad.”

Noah doesn’t speak the rest of the way home, but a warm, fuzzy feeling takes root inside of me. Noah found someone he can actually tolerate besides Ronda. A man he can look up to.

Is Mitch Anderson really the kind of man he should be emulating? I don’t know. But something deep in my gut tells me there’s more to Mitch than he shows to the world… that maybe, somewhere deep down, like way deep down, he’s actually a sweetheart.

This is where being an optimist is tricky… because optimism easily leads to shattered expectations later on down the road.

CHAPTER 10

MITCH

I’m in the Wombat’s locker room before their home game today. Max and the photographer interrupt our pregame pep talk to take a bunch of obnoxious photos of me with the kids. They don’t even bother including Coach Aaron, even though he’s the main coach. I notice when they’re done taking photos, Max pulls a few kids aside and asks them interview questions about me.

Yeah, good luck with that. I’m sure none of them have any positive remarks.

When we make it out to the bench, the first line gets ready with their sticks and gloves. The eight boys I normally work with are the first stringers, and some of the lesser skilled, younger kids fill in as needed. We’re playing the D.C. Dragons today. I knew dragons would be a cooler name. And the Dragons are playing a good game this season, so it’s going to be a tough fight for our boys.

This being my first game ever as a coach, I’m nervous. Not even going to lie. I have a newfound admiration for Coach Young. I can’t imagine how much pressure he must be under coaching an NHL team with a huge arena full of fans. It’s a thousand times more nerve-racking than actually playing.

I’m standing behind the kids, along with Coach Aaron, watching anxiously as the puck drops. This could be a huge disaster since Freckles and Noah are out there together. The two of them could be great on the same line if they’d just try.

I’m trying to focus on the boys, but my eyes move toward the bleachers. I haven’t seen Andie since our interaction two days ago, so naturally, I begin scanning the crowd for her pretty, blonde head. My small flurry of nerves turn into a raging blizzard when I finally spot her in the stands. I can’t make out what she’s wearing besides a snow hat with a big fuzzy ball on top. It shouldn’t be as cute as it is. She had it last time I saw her too.

Prying my eyes away from the woman who throws off my equilibrium and captures my attention—in a way no one ever has before, I focus on the dry-erase board that Coach Aaron is holding that shows the next play.

Yeah, this definitely isn’t the NHL with our giant touch screens. Here we have dry-erase boards. When I bring my eyes back to the ice, I relax slightly when Freckles and Noah appear to be working together. Noah is an excellent skater, really advanced for his age. But Freckles is the slightly better slap shot.

We’re in the attacking zone when Freckles skates close to the Dragon’s net, the goalie is distracted by two boys shoving each other, allowing Noah to get the puck to Freckles, who shoots it right inside the net. The crowd cheers and I fist bump the two when they make their way onto the bench, the next set of boys going out.

I realize I've never fist bumped anyone and wonder if I should feel weird about it.

My high is short lived, because when my eyes search for Andie again, as they always seem to do, I see four burly men making their way onto the bleachers right beside her. And the reason I stop breathing isn’t because I’m jealous of some other guys sitting by her, no. It’s because I recognize those four sets of broad shoulders, currently decked out in Washington Wombats gear. I swear my teammates bought out the entire gift shop. They have Wombats jerseys, baseball caps, scarves, and even insulated water bottles. But all four are wearing large sunglasses, like that will keep people from recognizing them.

I groan and drop my face into my hands. Massaging my temples with my thumbs. I mutter a four letter word into my hands so the kids on the bench can’t hear.

“What’s that?” Coach Aaron asks.

“Nothing.” I snap my head back up and try to stay focused, but my eyes glide over toward Andie and my teammates again.

The crowd is staring at them and smiling, but Andie is focused on the game, completely oblivious to the famous athletes beside her. Wow, she really knows absolutely nothing about hockey. Maybe it’s because women are usually all over us—or trying to be—but the fact she doesn’t know who we are, nor cares, makes my stomach blizzard return in full force. Yep, she does something to me. I’m not sure yet if it’s good or bad, but it’s definitely something.

I see Bruce casually make a comment to Andie, and she smiles. He leans his bucket of popcorn toward her and she takes a handful, saying something to him, and then they both laugh.