Page 35 of Puck Right Off

Coach gestures toward a chair, and I slide into it. I squirm in the chair, anxiety racing through my veins.

His intense gaze is on me as he leans back in his chair. “I couldn’t help but notice you were struggling during practice.” He leans forward, folding his hands on his desk. “It concerns me.”

Swallowing hard, I open my mouth, then shut it. I really admire Coach Jensen, and in the two years we’ve worked together, he’s really improved my game. My respect for him increased tenfold when he was supportive after my parents and sister’s deaths. If not for him, I would’ve given up hockey. Hell, I would’ve given up on life.

The silence stretches between us as he waits me out. My heart bangs like a drum as I search my non-functioning brain for something to say to excuse my behavior during practice.

But I’ve got nothing.

Finally, I say, “I’m fine, Coach. Just some personal stuff. I won’t let you down tomorrow night.” My leg bounces uncontrollably.

He stares at me, saying nothing.

“I’m just having an off day. I’ll be fully focused when we play the Bears tomorrow night.” Forcing a weak smile on my face, I give him a salute. “Scout’s honor.”

Coach Jensen doesn’t even crack a smile. My anxiety doubles as I glance at the clock.I need out of here before I pass out.

“Harrington.” Coach leans forward. “I’m gonna be frank. I already know your distraction has nothing to do with hockey. Before practice today, you’ve been focused as hell, playing better than ever.”

His words sink into my brain. The truth slaps me in the face. The reason I’ve been focused and played better than ever was because of Jordyn. She renewed my passion for hockey and improved my life.

And I threw it all away.

I’m pulled from my thoughts by Coach’s stern voice. “I don’t talk about personal stuff with you guys, but in your case, I will make an exception.”

Oh shit. This is gonna be bad.

CHAPTER 21

Tristan

Coach drums his fingers on the desk, then heaves out a long sigh. “I focused solely on the game when I first started playing college hockey. I firmly believed women and relationships were a distraction that would ruin any chance I had of playing professional hockey. I had flings, of course…” The side of his lip pulls up in a smirk. Coach is good-looking for his age, so I can only imagine how wild the women went over him when he was in college.

He grows serious, his eyes distant. “I was wrong.”

I lean forward in my chair, shocked by his words.

He runs a hand through his hair, his distress evident. “I met Kacie during my freshman year of college. She hit me with a door when she was exiting Stevenson. Her face turned bright red, and she apologized profusely.”

Clearing his throat, he says, “There was something about her. I was hooked. She was like a drug, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But our worlds moved in different directions. Until I started struggling in psychology.”

My hands twist together, anticipation thrumming through me, wanting to know more.

“I was doing great in all my classes except that one. I went to the professor’s office hours and felt more lost than ever. It was too late to drop the course, and I was too stubborn to withdraw since that felt like giving up. The professor suggested I go to the Learning Center. Guess who ended up tutoring me?”

“Kacie.”

He nods. “Not only did she break the course material down in ways I could understand, but I earned an A by the end of the semester. Although I thought Kacie and I were complete opposites, we were the same in everything that matters—values, views, and morals.”

I blink, his story oddly like Jordyn and me. We are opposites, but we share similar values and morals.

Coach takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, shifting in his chair. “I was infatuated with Kacie the day she hit me with the door. I fell in love with her during our tutoring sessions. She tried to resist me since I was a jock….”

A laugh bursts out of me.Sounds familiar.

But the smile dies off my face, a wave of fear coursing through me. I lean forward in my chair, desperate for the answer to the burning question inside me. “Did she fall in love with you?”

A wide smile splits his face, which is all the answer I need. “We were engaged by summer and married over winter break.” His face fades, and the grief that transforms his face is like looking in a mirror. His voice is hollow, his gray eyes full of heartache as I stare at a man as broken as me.

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