Page 11 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

There are times, during the course of my work, that I register how my words soundself-help-y. That you might find them on a motivational poster in a guidance counselors office. But I can afford to be cheesy when I make this much money, and when I’m leaving a trail of success stories behind me.

Sammy Braun clearly doesn’t notice or care that the last bit sounds like a gimmick, because he stands, nodding and holding his hand out to me again.

“You’re right,” he says, clearing his throat. “All I have ever wanted was to be one of the greatest in this sport. And if you’re the woman to do that for me—I’m here. I’m present. I’ll do whatever you want.”

That last sentence sends another thrill through me, and this time, when he reaches out to take my hand, I notice his palm is decidedlynotsweaty.

***

I’m kicking the door to the guest house shut behind me, hands full with my purse, tablet, and several files, when my phone rings.

I know which call is coming through, exactly what’s showing up on the screen of my phone. Cursing under my breath, I drop my purse on the counter and dig into my bag, sighing in relief when I manage to pinch my phone between my fingers.

Penny is running errands. It’s just me in the guest house right now, and my voice rings out, echoing through the kitchen as I answer the call.

“Finn Asher.”

“Hello, Ms. Asher, we’re calling about your request to transfer over to a different clinic. Normally we don’t honor requests on such short-term notice, but we’re thrilled with the generous donation you’ve made, and we want to show you that we appreciate your kindness. We’ve contacted the Burlington branch and had your appointments shifted to a new doctor. You can find all the information about your appointments and new doctor in your email.”

“That’sgreat,” I breathe, nearly dropping my phone with relief. This was one of my biggest reservations about leaving home and coming to Burlington. I thank her and get off the phone, then scroll through my email until I find one from the clinic.

My first appointment is in a few days. I forward the email to Penny, asking her to input everything into my schedule, then grab my bag and start unpacking.

I need to get serious about my plan for Sammy Braun. First, we’ll need to work on identifying that primary thing—the biggest issue in his life holding him back. It was clear from his reaction today that it was certainly present.

Tapping my pen against my mouth, I think through my options. I think about Sammy sitting in my office. I think about the game film I’ve seen of him, the way he plays. By no means would anyone imply that he’s not intimidating or huge, but he also has a certain level of timidness, a certain shy demeanor that comes through when he’s on the ice. We need him to be bold. To know that he’s owning that rink. That nobody is getting a puck past him.

Sammy Braun needs to find his boldness.

I take out my laptop and start typing, my fingers flying over the keys as I outline a plan of growth that will help him do just that.

Sammy

“Good morning,” Finn says, when I open the car door and slide inside.

It’s a beautiful day, the kind that epitomizes the Vermont summer, with large fluffy white clouds and a sky full of layered, darkening colors, moving from a deep rose pink to a lighter mauve. This morning, when I went for my run, the air was cool against my skin. Now it’s warm, a gentle breeze coming in from the bay.

“Good morning,” I say, hearing how rough my voice is. It’s just after six, and I haven’t spoken yet. I clear my throat and buckle up, then glance over at my elite athlete coach.

Finn is wearing a snug black pair of yoga pants and a matching zip-up jacket, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She has the kind of smooth, attractive collarbone that lands women on the covers of magazines. My eyes trail down from her face to her neck, which leads down into her jacket, where her breasts strain against the fabric.

“Today is all about developing your boldness,” she says, flicking her eyes up and looking away from the tablet in her hand. I rip my gaze away from her chest, my cheeks flooding with heat. I shift in my seat and clear my throat, trying to ignore my sudden awareness of her body.

I’m around beautiful women all the time. It should not be a big deal that Finn is gorgeous.

“Okay,” I say, and then, “my…boldness?”

“That’s right.” She nods, her fingers tapping across her screen quickly. For the past few days, I’ve been in and out of appointments, getting poked and prodded. Testing my bone density, muscles mass, a thousand different chemicals and levels that I’d never heard of before. Finn insisted they were all vital to understanding my potential, to identifying the areas in which I could improve.

So I was expecting a change in diet, maybe a new exercise routine. Notboldness.

She sets her tablet to the side and when she leans forward to look at me, it makes my heart stutter for a moment. Finn has the kindof intense, wide eyes that make you feel like you’re in a spotlight when she fixes them on you.

She continues, “I’ve been looking over all your tests and developing a comprehensive plan, which will include you meeting with a new physical trainer. We’re also working on making slight modifications to your diet, and one doctor has recommended a vitamin D supplement. All of these changes will be incremental, mere fractions of a percentage toward our goal of making you great. But what I’m really searching for—what, in my experience, has been the most influential—is the one element that’s missing. The thing that holds the athlete back. And for you, I think it’s a lack of…gumption.”

“Gumption?” I ask, rearing my head back. I’m immediately thinking about every morning I got to the rink before anyone else. The amount of time I’ve spent working and working, only to find myself an average goalie at best.

“Maybe that’s not the right word,” Finn says, tapping her finger on her lips. I draw my eyes away from the movement and shift in my seat again. “It’s like this,” she goes on, crossing her legs, “it’s that boldness, that willingness togo for it. I get this feeling that you’re very…traditional. Stuck in your ways, and it’s clear from your training regimen that what you need is not more drilling. What you need is a breakthrough in your approach to the sport. To life.”

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