Page 19 of Huge Pucking Play

"It's just..." I pause, collecting my thoughts. "He's so...different. Not like the usual meatheads I deal with."

My mind wanders to Barnesy and all his bullshit, getting me in trouble.

And then I think about Michael, the love of my life. I was crazy about him for years, but we were just friends. I finally got out of the friend zone but two months later he broke up with me and gave me the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. Just like that, I lost my friendandmy boyfriend.

Oscar tugs at the leash, eager to keep moving.

"You're right. No use standing here." We continue our walk. "But seriously, Oscar. The first guy I actually like in forever, and he's off-limits."

I kick a pinecone, frustration building. "It's not fair. Why'd he have to show up here, of all places?"

Oscar barks, as if in agreement.

"I mean, I worked my ass off for this job. I can't risk it for...what? A fling?"

But even as I say it, I know it's not true. Garrett could be a lot more than just some fling.

"God, I'm in trouble," I groan.

Chapter 7

Garrett

The clash of sticks on ice echoes through the rink as I blow my whistle. "Alright, boys! That's a wrap for today."

Sweat drips down my temples as I watch the team skate off. A week into my new gig as assistant coach, and I'm already feeling at home with the Blades.

"Nice work out there, Hughes," Martinez calls, clapping me on the shoulder as he passes.

I nod, a grin tugging at my lips. "Thanks, Martinez. It’s all coming together nicely."

"It sure is," Martinez agrees, leaning against the boards. "How's it feel being back on the ice?"

I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp, cool air. "Like coming home."

We watch as the last of the players file off the ice. The rink falls quiet, save for the hum of the cooling system.

"You know, I wasn't sure how I'd take to coaching. These kids are so young, and I wasn’t sure how I’d connect with them," I admit. "But these guys...they've got heart. That makes it so much easier to coach them."

Martinez nods. "That they do. And they respect you, Huge. Your experience, your achievements—it carries weight."

I chuckle. "Glad to hear the nickname is still alive."

"Some things never change," he grins. "Speaking of which, want to grab a beer sometime soon? For old times' sake?"

"Sounds great," I reply, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the exertion of practice.

As we head to the locker room, I can't help but reflect on the past week. The smell of sweaty gear and athletic tape. The satisfying thwack of a well-aimed puck. The camaraderie, the banter, the shared purpose. It's all so familiar, yet refreshingly new in a different environment.

"You know," I say, "I thought I'd miss playing more. But there's something about nurturing young talent..."

Martinez nods knowingly. "It's a different kind of rush, isn't it?”

“Absolutely,” I respond, smiling.

The locker room buzzes with post-practice chatter. I weave through the players, offering encouragement and critiques.

"Karlsson, work on that slapshot. Reynolds, solid defense today."

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