Page 86 of Coach Sully

“I’m so sorry, Kendra.”

“We knew we were playing with fire. I just need to figure out how to do damage control.” This was supposed to be my debut as a producer, and instead, I’ve sabotaged my entire career. I lost it. I’m so fucking tired of having to choose. Choose between a social life or success, career or family, independence or love.These days, women can have it all… No we can’t. Not really. One thing will always be forfeit for another to some degree. Sure, we’ve made progress, but it’s not enough. Why do women have to make the sacrifices?

“I’m going to take a nap,” I say.

“Kendra—”

“I’m fine, Sully.” I smile. “I just need some time alone right now.”

His eyes are full of sympathy. I can’t sit around feeling sorry for myself; I’d rather rip the bandage off and figure out where I go from here. He takes the untouched tea from me, and I trudge over to his bedroom and shut the door.

I pull out my phone and click Pierce’s name. I want to get this over with.

“Kendra,” he answers.

“What do I do?”

He sighs on the other end. “Shit, I have no idea. I will help you as much as I can, but you gotta tell me everything.”

So I do. I tell him everything.

Our first game is away, in Boston, and it’s the absolute worst time to leave Kendra. I feel like I blew up her world, then left her to clean up the mess. My lawyer is pissed. The organization is pissed. My PR team is pissed. Whit doesn’t have to say anything for me to know he’s disappointed—it blew up right after I told him nothing would get out.

They’ve buried four news stories. The players knew something was up when a different producer showed up instead of her. We still don’t know what is happening with her job. She’s basically been put on a suspension until they decide what to do.

With Whit’s approval, I privately explained what happened. I figured if I’m pushing these women to bond as a team, maybe this could be a moment for them to bond with me. While initially disappointed, the team seems elated with the news of Kendra and me expecting a child. I’ve made it clear that it’s not to be publicly discussed and any details relating to Kendra are to bekept under wraps. In exchange for their silence, I’ve agreed to let them throw her a baby shower.

Now that everyone is on the same page, I want them to stay focused. They’ve got enough to worry about with the season starting.

I have to prove to the Rogues they need me. Bring them a win and keep my career going forward. I’ll still fight for this and for Kendra’s job too, but tonight is about this team. We’ve already gone through the first game’s fanfare. My team is back in the locker room, and I recognize the nerves in the players. After a deep breath, I focus my mind. I owe it to these women, who have been busting their asses to get here, to be present and on my game. Once we get home, I can start making phone calls, but tonight is for them.

“When you skate tonight, I want you to remember this is bigger than Boston. This is bigger than tonight’s win or loss. Just by stepping out there, you are making a difference. And you did not work this hard and sacrifice this much to feel fear, so shake that shit off. Each one of you deserves to be here. This ground we stand on isn’t ours, but that ice sure as hell is. Show the world why you fucking matter.”

They’ve fought tooth and nail to play this game. I’ve never seen so much passion and drive from every single player. I’m so fucking proud of this team and what they’ve built. Jeanine glances up to me and nods her approval.

Quoting Shania Twain, Delta shouts, “Let’s go, girls!”

I’ve come to learn that this phrase is the equivalent of “Avengers, Assemble!”

These women are ready.

29 weeks pregnant

The words keep replaying in my head:We’ve chosen to let you go.

I was fired.

Sure, they gave me the option to tender my resignation and step down, which I did to salvage my reputation. If I went quietly, so would they. Pierce can tell me all day long that it’s only because of this incident, it’s not because of my work ethic or performance, but who the fuck cares when the end result is the same?

I pick up my phone to text Sully, then drop it. Shit,the game. I’ll tell him when he returns from Boston. With a fresh box of desserts from Sugar and Ice, I plop myself on the couch and turnon the television to watch the game. It feels weird staying at his house when he’s not here.

All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep forever, but it’s Sully’s first game, and I can’t miss it. When I turn it on, they show the players I’ve come to know over the past few months, and I’m not sure if it’s the shitstorm of emotions brewing inside, but I bawl. There’s a familiarity in them that I recognize in me. They fought like hell to get there, and they’ve spent their lives trying to prove themselves. To be good enough. And I’m so fucking proud of them.

Then they show Sully in the box yelling and pointing down the ice. It’s not anger, though, it’s him in his element. It’s Sully coaching. I don’t know if he was born to play or coach hockey more, but he was made forthis.

About an hour after their win, my phone rings, and Sully’s name pops up on the screen. I put a fake smile on my face, hoping he can hear it through the phone. I don’t want him to worry.

“Hi! Oh my goodness, the team did incredible! How are you feeling?!”

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