Page 59 of Perfect Playbook

I’m never short of wild ideas, but dangerous ones are paying me a visit now. Shay is volatile. I couldn’t pick a more explosive stick of dynamite to set a match to. The reason we couldn’t stay together hasn’t exactly changed, and something about the way she treats me now has me thinking there’s another one I don’t know about.

Her hips, thighs, lips, and pebbled nipples say yes. Buther words tell another story, always working overtime, ripping apart the clear magnetism.

Nino snaps me back to reality. “My coach says the odds are zero.”

“He said what now?”

“He said the odds are zero.” He shrugs. “To become a pro.”

My jaw tics. So his coach has this eager child standing on the spot, not allowed to move, and tells him making the pros is impossible? My fist curls and I’m a few degrees hotter.

Shay wraps her arm around her son, brows furrowed. “When did he say that?”

“Last practice. At the end I told him the odds of being a professional were less than one percent, I found it online, and he said for some people the odds are zero.”

I am instantly seeing red. I don’t give a shit if this coach thinks Nino has God-given talent or not. A coach’s job is to help kids thrive. To develop what they have and spit a kid out to the next level better than he was when he came in. One thing that’s not in the coach description is dashing people’s hopes and dreams when they’re five fucking years old.

I’m seething.

Shay’s features tell me a concoction of something similar brews behind her eyes, too.

But just then, someone joins us on the other side of the plexiglass.

Mycoach.

Even though we haven’t always seen eye to eye, he doesn’t feel like an enemy, and even less so now thinking about how not once, even when totally frustrated with me,did he cave in to the kind of things Nino’s coach does. A sudden appreciation for him surges through me. Deep down, and in my more mature moments, I know he’s annoyed with me because he doesn’t want me or anyone on this team to squander their opportunity. When I came to the Scorpions, I noticed he’s a father-like figure to a lot of the guys.

Maybe I resisted him being one to me because it reminds me just how far away my own is.

Coach wears a soft smile I’ve never seen before. It’s grandfatherly.

“Well, hello there, little guy. What’s your name?”

“I’m Antonio. But you can call me Nino.”

Coach nods. “Nino. I like that. It sounds like something the crowds would be chanting.”

I bounce Antonio in my arms and cheer. “Ni-no. Ni-no. Ni-no.”

He giggles.

When I consider Coach’s expression, eyes gazing at a kid and not my own face, there’s encouragement there. As much as he can chew our asses, get angry until his face is beet red and spit when he’s shouting, never once has he said this team isn’t capable of a Stanley Cup. I look at him differently now. Especially with the twinkle in his eye staring at Antonio.

I stop bouncing Nino. “I can hear your name in the stands already.”

“You ever skate, Nino?” Coach asks.

He tips his head down, gazing at Coach from under his eyebrows, seriously. “I don’t have very good balance.”

“Well, I’m sure your pops will be a good teacher. He’s a decent guy when he puts his mind to it.” Coach gives me a side-eye.

I know Coach won’t stay here at the boards long so I introduce Shay. “Coach, this is my beautiful wife, Shay.”

My wife.My God does that feel good to say that about such a golden woman.

She waves. “I’d love to shake your hand, but you’ll have to settle for the thought of it today.”

“It’s what counts.” He tips his head cordially.

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