Page 80 of Coach Sully

“Nah,” Joey says, disagreeing. I’m shocked—but grateful—she doesn’t add to the conversation.

“Have you ever thought about her like that?” Timber asks.

Delta waves a hand. “He’s not going to answer that.”

I shake my head. “I’m not talking about this with my players. Besides, I’m not supposed to be discussing the show at all, I signed an NDA.”

“Did you see how Twitter blew up after that live interview?” Cori asks the other women.

“Oh yeah!” Timber adds. “See?! Even the internet was talking about all the chemistry you had with her.”

Joey pipes up. “I don’t buy it. People love drumming up speculations on things they know nothing about. Lord knows all the shit they say aboutmeonline.” She gives me a subtle wink. Fuckinggreat.

“Don’t worry, Coach. America just wants to swoon and kick their feet over your love story,” Cori says. “I’m sure you’ll find someone. Give it time.”

I have someone. The whole conversation gets on my nerves. She skates around, and I follow up with “Cori, you’re doing too much stickhandling.Pushthe puck. The other team knows you’re a killer. You don’t have to prove it with all the fancy stickwork.”

“Yes, Coach.”

There, that ends that. My phone rings in my pocket, and I glance down to the caller’s name, it’s my doctor’s office. My genetic results.

I fish it out and nod to Jeanine. “I gotta take this, can you?”

She nods and rallies the girls. I answer the phone after skating off the ice and tossing my stick to one of the equipment managers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lee. We’re just calling to let you know your genetic test was negative, we found zero gene mutations.”

I pump my fist in the air and jump on my skates in the arena tunnel. “Awesome. That’s great to hear. Thank you.”

“Happy to give you the good news,” she says with a small chuckle. “Did you want to schedule an appointment to discuss anything further?”

“Nope, all set.”

“All right, have a good afternoon.”

“You too.”

A second later, Kendra walks out of a locker room and into the tunnel looking down as she fiddles with one of the walkie-talkies along the band of some of the new maternity pants she bought. I stride over and crowd her against the concrete wall of the dark tunnel, and she gasps when I delve my hands into her hair and kiss her. Our baby is healthy.

“Sully!” she whispers, shoving me away.

“The test was negative,” I say, with a small laugh. “No gene mutations.”

She stares at me while the words register in her brain, then she grips my sweater and tugs me close. Her small palms frame my face, and she kisses me once more before pulling away. “Oh my God.”

“Bo is fine,” I reassure her.

She nods over and over, her eyes swelling with tears. I wrap my arms around her. “You okay?”

“Yes!” She laughs through a sob. “Just emotional. Okay, okay. We can’t do this here. Um, go back out there. I’ll be behind you after a minute.”

“Okay. Celebrate later?” I ask.

“I’d love that.”

Smiling, I walk backward out the tunnel, watching her pull her emotions together as she faces the wall. This is a huge weight off our shoulders. It’s fine. Our baby will be fine. There’s a chance they’ll be a carrier of the gene like Kendra, but we don’t have to worry about our baby developing cystic fibrosis.

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