Page 65 of The Secret Play

Before he’d joined the team, he was a drummer in a local band that had a loyal following until the lead singer got a record deal and left them all behind. Sorkin had turned to professional hockey as his backup plan. He had played through high school in Canada. He had almost been recruited back then, but music was his stronger calling. Too many talents.

It was a pity that paying attention wasn’t also one of his talents.

“Sorkin—”

Nico nudged his knee and snapped his fingers in the big guys’ face. “Sore, you in there today?”

“What? Huh?” He blinked himself back into the locker room, like he was coming out of a haze. I didn’t know if he had smoked too much weed when he played at dive bars or what, but the kid always appeared perma-baked until he was on the ice. Then muscle memory took over.

Nico firmly said, “Coach is talking to you.”

“Oh,” he said stiffly. A slight curl to his lip said enough of what he thought of me. “Yeah, well, sorry.”

I ran through the play again, this time with more attention paid to me. But the moment I stopped talking, they were at it again. Some of them were cracking jokes, others were fiddling with their gear, and a few were having their own conversations like I wasn’t even there. It was infuriating.

“Nico,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

He looked up from where he was leaning against the bench, arms crossed. “Yeah, Coach?”

If I wasn’t a professional, it would have grated my nerves to admit I needed his help. After the locker room attack, maybe I shouldn’t have turned to him for help, but I didn’t have much choice. He was the only person they were listening to today. “Get them in line.”

Nico hesitated, and for a moment, I thought he might push back. But then he clapped and let out a sharp whistle, the sound cutting through the noise like a warm knife through butter. He barked, “Atlanta Fire! Shut the fuck up and listen!”

The guys quieted down, their attention shifting to Nico instead of me. He had their respect and their trust, in a way that reminded me what I’d lost. It stung.

Right then, I realized just how much the team’s loyalty had shifted. I took a step back, letting Nico have the floor. If they weren’t going to listen to me, fine. I’d use every tool in the toolbox to get the job done. He was the senior-most center these days, so I knew he’d have pull with the others. But would the whole team hear him out?

He looked around the room, his eyes narrowing as he took in the group. “I get it,” he said, his voice steady. “I know some of you are pissed. Some of you think Coach let us down. But let me tell you something—he didn’t.”

There were murmurs of surprise, a few skeptical looks, but Nico pressed on. Hell, even I was surprised. Not that he said that, but that he knew, and that he understood about me and Gemma. I didn’t deserve that grace, but I sure as hell appreciated it.

“Yeah, the circumstances suck,” he said, his tone blunt. “Yeah, it’s weird. But you know what’s not weird? Winning. We’re good at winning. And the only reason we’re here, the only reason we’ve got a shot at that trophy, is because of Coach.”

The room fell silent.

“He’s helped us win in the past. This year, he’s gotten us this far again,” Nico continued, his voice rising. “And if I can look past the situation, so can you. Respect the man who got us here. Respect the work he’s put in, and give him everything you’ve got in here when he coaches and out there on the ice. We owe him that much and more.”

The tension in the room shifted. To my surprise, I felt a little better after hearing Nico talk about the weirdness between us. It was a pretty good speech. One by one, the players nodded, their expressions serious as they turned their attention back to me.

I stepped forward, meeting their eyes as I spoke. “All right, let’s get to it. Here’s the plan.”

This time, they listened.

I ran through our strategies, breaking down the opposing team’s weaknesses and emphasizing our strengths. The players nodded along, asking questions, making suggestions, and falling back into the rhythm we’d built all season. Not a cell phone in sight. Even Sorkin paid attention.

By the time we hit the ice, the energy in the locker room had given way to what I always liked during these sessions. Hope.

Once the team was on the ice to run drills, I grabbed Nico by the arm, pulling him aside. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” he said. But he was stiff about it, enough to tell me there was still something about this that he didn’t like. Maybe we weren’t good yet. But I had hope that we would be.

I led him to a quieter corner of the arena, away from the noise and activity, and turned to face him. “I just want to say thanks for what you did in there.”

“For what?”

“For getting the guys to listen to me,” I said. “For sticking up for me, even though I know you didn’t want to.”

Nico shrugged. “I did it for the team.”

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