Page 87 of Forecasting the Forward

“Do you even know her name?” I ask somewhat belligerently.

“Drop the charges against my son, and I’ll tell you,” she answers.

My mouth drops open in disbelief. Bartering for my birth mother’s name? Certainly didn’t have that on my bingo card for the week. “No,Margaret. I’m not trading Rodney’s release for a woman’s name.”

“Then I hope you burn in hell, you ungrateful little bitch,” she hisses, and I hear the telltale sign of the call ending. Removing the phone from my ear, my hand shakes as I look at the screen. Adrenaline courses through my veins, but not in a bad way. For once, I’m proud of myself. I may not have gotten the last word, but I stood up to the woman who raised me. Or at least pretended to raise me. Old Becca would have bent over backwards, trying to appease my family. New Becca recognizes how toxic my family is, and wants no part of it.

“Becca?” I hear, and when my head raises, I see a man in his late thirties smiling at me. “Bennett Davenport, Jax’s coach. I’m not sure if you remember meeting me in Cleveland.”

“Oh, hi,” I rush out in an exhale of relief. “I do remember you. I only saw the back of your head during the game, and the onetime I rode the bus I didn’t see you after you yelled at everyone to be respectful. I’m glad we can talk now.”

He laughs. “You did see me, but you and Jax were a little preoccupied. I’m assuming the same preoccupation is what brought him into the locker room late this evening as well.”

Heat flares up my neck and onto my face. “Well, umm …”

Coach Davenport waves a hand nonchalantly. “I think it’s a rite of passage with this organization to have some preoccupied fun here and there. My wife and I … well, I almost got fired for what we did, and my niece apparently convinced her husband to try out the Zamboni during a power outage.”

“That thing that mows the ice?” I wonder aloud. Jacob told me the name, but I couldn’t remember it.

“You really need to meet my niece and her husband. She called the Zamboni an ‘ice lawnmower’ for the longest time,” he says, laughing while using air quotes. “Her husband retired a year ago. Are you hoping for Jax to retire sooner rather than later?”

“Oh,” I blurt out, surprised. “We haven’t talked about it in depth. I’d never ask him to retire. He’s obviously quite happy playing hockey.”

Coach Davenport tilts his head to the side, studying me. “He’s not. He won’t admit that, though. At least not to me. I think he’s ready to be done, but wants to be sure he has the support of his friends and family. It’s an incredibly difficult decision, choosing between what your heart wants and your body needs.”

“I won’t tell him to retire. That’s not my decision,” I state firmly. I’m flabbergasted at how quickly the conversation with Jacob’s coach got serious. I don’t know this man, yet he’s giving me his opinion on Jacob’s career. “It almost sounds like you want me to convince him to retire, and that is not my place. Honestly, it’s incredibly disrespectful for you to assume Jacobcan’t make his own career decisions. He’s spoken so highly of you, but I’m finding you to be a big disappointment.”

Coach Davenport’s grin widens as he throws back his head in raucous laughter. “I’m not trying to convince you to do anything. I did want to see if you’d fight for Jax, though. He’s had a shitty hand of cards dealt to him in regards to family members, and I wanted to be sure his wife would be his champion. You’re one hell of a fighter, Mrs. Mitchell.”

“Not cool, man,” Jacob says from behind me as he pulls me into his arms. The scent of his body wash floats over me, and I immediately relax into his embrace. “I don’t appreciate you trying to trick her.”

Coach Davenport shrugs. “I’m sick of seeing my guys get suckered into situations with puck bunnies, or relationships with women who only want them for their bank accounts. If they’re in it for the wrong reasons, they’ll agree with everything I say. But, just like the case with Becca here, when they’re truly happy and in love, they’ll argue back. You’ve got a strong woman in your corner, Jax.”

“I know I do,” Jacob replies proudly. Coach Davenport nods at us before walking back toward the locker room. “You okay, darlin’?”

I nod. “That was a very strange conversation. I didn’t like what he was insinuating.”

“I only caught the tail end. What was his argument?”

“Basically that you needed me to convince you to retire, and I said I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” he asks as he grabs my hand and begins walking behind his coach.

“Because I trust you to talk to me about it first, and if you wanted to continue playing, I’d support that. I’d never make that kind of decision for you, and I think you’d end up resenting me if you decided to retire based solely on my opinion.”

“I’d never retire just because of you, but I’d want your opinion. We’re a team now, Spitfire.”

“So,” I begin as we walk outside into the muggy Miami air, “what are your thoughts on retirement? I know we talked about how you can tell your body isn’t the same as it was in your twenties. But is your heart still in it? I’ll support whatever you want, Jacob. I’m here to be a sounding board whenever you need me.”

“Well, I’m thirty-four. I have another year after this on my contract. I’m already one of the old guys in the locker room, and across the league, there aren’t too many guys older than me. Really only a handful. I feel like I’m skating on borrowed time here,” he confesses as he motions for me to climb on the bus. Multiple guys call out to us when they see me, making me feel weirdly happy to be part of this family.

“What would make you keep skating?” I ask as we get settled in a row.

“A lot of things,” he says, his voice lowering. “A no-trade clause for starters. I’m having difficulty thinking about leaving you for away games, so I can’t wrap my head around the possibility of us living in different cities.”

“Is money a concern?”

Jacob gives me a lopsided grin. “No, baby. Money is not a concern. Trust me when I say we’re good.”

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