Page 22 of Coach Sully

She throws her arms around my neck and holds me. I can’t see her face, but a tear rolls down my back.

“It’s going to be okay” is all I can tell her. She nods into my shoulder.

Tired and spent, I lie on the sofa, taking her with me. The tips of my fingers graze up and down her back as she rests her head on my chest. When she shivers, I wrap her in my warm arms and enjoy the sound of her content sighs as we relax without sharing another word. I’ll be here until she kicks me out. After cleaning us up, I take my spot next to her again. Grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch, I throw it over us. It doesn’t take long before our heartbeats are in sync and we drift into a deep sleep.

Approximately 10 weeks later

Player drafts are anxiety inducing on their own, but it didn’t help that my flight was delayed and I barely made it in time. I had to put my suit on in the airport bathroom, grab my rental car, and haul ass to the arena. The cold sweat is finally dissipating. Luckily, the only thing I missed was recognition of team scouts, red carpet photo ops, and watching interviews with athletes and staffers.

In the past, I’ve always been on the player end, but now I’m on the floor. Standing next to me is Whit Moreau. Behind us, the hum of exuberant chatter fills the stands and echoes through the arena. Families, friends, and fans are settling in while we takeour seats at the designated Rogues table on the drained floor of Colorado’s NHL arena.

I sense Kendra’s presence even though I haven’t seen her yet. She and the camera crew are hidden in the throng of media attendees. I keep my head down and try not to look for her. It’s been weeks since we’ve seen each other. She’s kept me at a distance and has stayed professional. It’s almost as if our last night together never happened. I’ve been respectful of her boundaries, but despite her efforts, my attraction for her has only grown.

Barrett and Raleigh are in the stands somewhere. Not only for me but for the athletes who spent time with his organization, Camp Conway, and are now up for the draft. Including Timber Healy, a goaltender we have our eye on. I can’t imagine the pride he feels. Probably similar to the loved ones of the players wringing their hands right now. Their children, siblings, spouses, and significant others are about to be the first hockey players of the inaugural PWHL season. They’re making history. The anticipation is palpable.

Everyone at the Minnesota Rogues’s table has been handpicked by Whit. It’s mostly executives and team scouts—those who are important to help with on-the-fly decision-making. A couple seats are reserved for members of the organization with higher status, like the owner. We try to keep the table neat, which isn’t easy between all the laptops, tablets, papers, water bottles, and snacks.

I’ve made small talk saying hi to past colleagues, but now people are settling into their spaces. Next to me sits Jeanine Vance, the assistant coach, and we discuss the players and our plans to work with our athletes once it’s established today. We’re eager to get our roster filled and begin their training.

Once the emcee goes through the fanfare of this being the first PWHL draft in history, things are ready to begin. The orderof picks is determined by a computer, and when we see the results, Minnesota is picking first.

Fuck.

The order goes in snake format, so once we get through the list, the order is reversed, meaning we don’t get to pick again until the end of the second round. It drops our odds on the elite players since most will be picked through by the time we choose again. However, winning teams aren’t composed of the best players, they’re made of therightplayers. We have three minutes to submit our pick.

“Cori Kapowski,” Whit mutters next to me. It’s a no-brainer. Cori is a power forward and was born to play this game. She’s played internationally on women’s teams, and we planned to pull her first. Fans call her Celly Kapowski. We all nod, we’ve already figured most of our choices and the order we would take them in, but going first means this pick is easy. Going forward though, we’ll need to make sure we stay the course.

We submit our decision, and once the name is announced, Cori stands and takes the stage along with Margaret Baylor, chairwoman of the board for the PWHL. Our runner supplies the jersey she receives. She holds it up for photos. We’ll shake hands later. Much of the fanfare is saved for after the draft when everyone gets together for photo ops during contract signings.

From our table, we watch as the remaining nine teams pick off players. We cross them off our list as we go. A few grumbles can be heard among staffers, and even Whit let out a sigh a time or two. We decide our best bet is to get our top goalie lined up next. Goaltenders are critical and can make or break a team. Our defenders are important, but when it comes to shots on goal, we need to make damn sure the person we put in our net is the best. And the best is Timber Healy.

She’s a tremendous athlete. Focused and dedicated. Oftentimes, goaltenders get away with more shit because theyknow how important they are to a team and organizations will let that shit slide as long as pucks are staying out of nets, but she’s solid.

We put forward our pick for Timber Healy, and as soon as her name is called, I glance up to the crowd and catch Barrett standing alongside Timber’s parents and clapping like it’s his daughter presenting that Rogues jersey.

We have back-to-back picks this round and have to focus. “Okay we’ve got a powerhouse in Kapowski. Let’s add Delta Makkonen, she’d be a great winger. They would be great together.”

Whit pulls up her profile for what seems like the hundredth time. It’s like he’s getting cold feet when it comes to her. I can’t figure out why.

“We need to cover our defense,” he says. “Joanna Breck.”

Joey is damn good defense. Unfortunately, she’s also got a reputation for being a wild card off the ice. Even the media calls her “Trainwreck Breck.” When it’s our turn to submit our pick, the scouts are all in for her; they know how talented she is. The rest of the staff, including me, exchange looks, knowing she’s a liability.

“We need Makkonen now,” I argue. Timber is great on defense, but we need to grab up one of the best wingers before she’s snapped up by another team.

“Timber Healy has a rapport with Breck. We must establish our defense.”

“Whit, I’m with Sully on this one. Delta Makkonen should be priority,” Jeanine says, backing me up.

The scouts waffle between themselves too. I duck my head next to Whit’s shoulder. “Delta won’t be available after another eighteen rounds… Last night, we were solid on choosing a winger third. Makkonen is it. What the hell changed overnight?”

He closes the tab on his laptop with her face and stats and reopens the submittal window. “I’m pulling rank on this one. If she’s available next round, we’ll get her then.”

I clear my throat and swallow down my frustration.What the fuck?There’s nothing I can do here, and I’m not about to make a scene. When I played for the Lakes, we had a player named Banksy who was the biggest pain in the ass as far as liabilities go, and after I left, he replaced me as captain, turning everything around. I’ve seen miracles happen. I just hope Joey can hack it.

I nod. We’ll figure out a way to get the other shit under control later on. Whit blows out a breath and taps the enter key to submit her name.

“Do you think our PR team will be submitting their resignation or requesting raises?” Jeanine mutters and I chuckle.

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