Page 15 of Goalie Interference

“He already hates me. What more can he do, huh?”

Finally there was an expression on her face that wasn’t disdain or anger or get the fuck out of my way. It was sympathy, maybe pity.

Otts had an issue with me ever since World Juniors together. I’d been on a hot streak—the longest one of my career—andCanada had beaten the US in the gold medal game, where I’d been in net for Canada, and Otts for the US. I’d shut the US out, in the single best game I’d played in my life.

That led to a second-round draft pick for me. I’d played in the AHL for a few years, and that was the second time Otts and I went head-to-head for a championship.

After that, my story headed downhill. I’d been an athletic goalie, and in my first season in the NHL I’d torn my groin. I’d been out for a bit, and came back, but had to adapt my playing style. And I’d never been that good again.

Otts had been drafted after me as a result of that World Junior loss, but he had a stellar career. Still, any time we met it was like he was on a mission to prove he was better than me. He won every encounter. I wasn’t the player I’d been. So I peaked at twenty, and he’d passed me—only for a knee injury to force him into early retirement.

Maybe he resented me for that. Were we still competing? Was that why I’d been brought to the Aces? I’d been hoping for a chance to show what I could do and prolong my career for another year or two. Was there even a chance of that with Otts as my coach?

I didn’t have to do this. Hockey players weren’t indentured servants. I could announce my retirement, and head back to…

There was the kicker. I didn’t know. The only base I had was the cottage, and it wasn’t winterized. Every year I’d stayed there in the summer but left during the season for wherever I’d been playing. If I wasn’t playing, I’d have to figure out what I was doing with the rest of my life. Where I was living. How to fill my days.

Otts’s revenge, versus playing hockey.

I’d always choose hockey first. “Would it be okay if I just went up to the apartment and got out of your way? I’ll keep Beast on a leash when I take him out so that the animals don’t fight.”

“That’s probably for the best. Goober is used to having the run of the place. She was a rescue, and doesn’t believe she’s an indoor cat.”

I looked down at my dog, still snarling and letting out occasional growls. “This guy is a rescue too. But he’s better than when I got him.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“I’ll talk to Elsa about working out those other details.”

“I’ll try to get a hold of my brother to let him know he has landlord responsibilities. When he’s in the studio, he forgets everything else.”

I wanted to ask what kind of studio and what he did, but Beast and I had worn out our welcome a while ago. I used my foot, jeans and boots protecting my ankles, and nudged him back into the crate. When he resisted, because of course he did, I pulled a treat out of my pocket and tossed it inside, closing the door behind him when he chased after it.

“Thanks for your help. And uh, keep working—I’ll be okay up there.” It was the least I could do after the cock-up I’d made of this whole encounter.

A smile flickered across her face, lighting up her features and making me smile too. “Not sure I was much help. Good luck and I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Yeah, if I was living over her workshop, it would be hard to miss her. Which Otts would realize too.

I took Beast on a short trip to empty his bladder, then up the stairs, using the combination I’d been sent by Elsa to open the door. Elsa, who worked for the Aces GM, and somehow they connected to Sophie’s father who was friends with the owner. And all of them tied in with Otts. Crazy.

I put out water and food for Beast. Tomorrow I’d have to get a car and stock up for him and me. Right now, he could explorethe apartment all he wanted. I needed rest. And then to figure out how the fuck this season was going to work.

A goalie coach who hated me. My closest neighbor, the coach’s ex, not liking me much either. My landlord, best friends with my coach.

But at least I had hockey.

Sophie

My brother finally called me back the next morning.

“Soph!” He sounded exhausted, but relaxed. Things must be going well now.

“What the hell have you done, Cash?” He sighed and I heard sounds in the background, like he was getting settled. “Where are you anyway?”

“Just back at the hotel room. Long night, but a good one.”

I felt a twinge of guilt. He was tired and working hard. But still, he’d dropped me in the middle of something and that was not okay. “So, you have a tenant.”

---