“Do you think the team is nervous?” she asked.

  With an upcoming figure skating competition, Chloe had been increasingly focused, and for the first time since she’d been on the competitive circuit, nervous.

  The players were nervous. I could feel it, but that’s not what I said. “They’re professionals, Chloe. We train for these games. But… it’s normal to feel a little antsy before a game. The guys have learned how to make the nerves work for them.” Most of the players had been on the ice since they could walk, and each of them had their own way of dealing with the pre-game jitters. I didn’t want Chloe to be nervous about her competitions, but at the same time, I realized that she needed to know that feeling nervous was normal. Hell, my sandwich sat untouched in the back seat. I tried to eat it, but there was no way I would have been able to hold it down before such an important game.

  Armed with box seat tickets, Chloe disappeared into the stands with her friend Olive and a couple of the figure skating girls. The bass from the sound system reverberated through the walls of the stadium as I made my way to the dressing room. I chose my lucky suit, one I reserved for the playoffs, and smoothed the royal blue tie down as I pushed open the heavy dressing room door. Pacey had run the team through their warmup and their faces were flushed.

  I wasn’t known for sweeping motivational speeches before the games, and today was no exception. If I’d gone into the room with guns blazing, it would’ve thrown off my senior players. I ran through the plays and left the cheerleading up to the Captain, Leo.

  Pacey and I took our spots on the player’s bench just as Andy finished up resurfacing the ice. “Their energy is off, Coach,” he whispered to me.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I’d felt it too. “They’ll be fine. They’ve practiced hard.”

  Pacey’s lips narrowed and he nodded. He wasn’t buying my line.

  The voice on the loudspeaker announced the opposing team, The Wild Cats, and a mixture of polite clapping and boos ensued. The volume was turned up for the next announcement: “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your hometown…” He paused before his trademark introduction and the entire stadium joined in the chant, “Ooooooooooootters.”

  The players exploded onto the ice through a haze of dry ice and pyrotechnics. From that first second, I knew that something was wrong. Number 11 shot onto the ice. Lockwood. The Captain was supposed to lead the team.

  “What?” Pacey muttered. “Where’s the Lion?”

  Lockwood circled the ice and raised his stick and glove to the audience who roared in response.

  “Jesus Christ.” I shook my head.

  Leo glided behind Lockwood, seemingly unperturbed by the disruption in tradition. But hockey players are a superstitious bunch, and that doesn’t exclude their coach.

  Lockwood and the Lion were on the first line and Gunnar easily won the face-off. The auditorium went quiet, the sound of skate blades and the crack of the puck being passed, unnaturally loud in the vacuum of silence. It was like the entire place was holding their breath.

  “Pass it. Pass it,” I whispered under my breath as I watched Lockwood charge down the ice. Leo, the right-winger was following the play perfectly. “Come on,” I bit my lip to stop myself from yelling.

  Leo smacked his stick on the ice, but instead of passing, Lockwood took a slapshot from the blue line. The net practically exploded behind the Wild Cats goalie.

  The collective silence exploded. The goal siren blared, the red light flashed, and the audience went crazy. I didn’t clap. I didn’t cheer, even though Pacey was doing both beside me. Leo skated to the bench and I saw something in his eyes I had never seen before – hatred.

  That goal was our only one in the first period. The team was able to hold the lead through half of the second period, but that’s when it fell apart. Lockwood was running a one-man show.

  “Pull him,” I said to Pacey after the second period.

  Pacey nodded. “Are you sure, Coach? He’s the only one really trying out there right now.”

  “I’m sure.”

  The third period was a disaster. Who knew if it would’ve been any better if Lockwood had more than forty seconds of ice time? Actually, I knew. It wouldn’t have made a difference. Instead of a 3-1 loss, it would’ve been more – after years of coaching, I knew when someone had gone off the rails. The stands started to clear out before the final buzzer sounded – Vincent Wellington was not going to be a happy manager.

  I crossed my arms as the team filed off the bench. Lockwood stared at the ground as he walked by. My nostrils flared and I could feel my rage percolating inside.

  Before I headed into the dressing room, I took a deep breath. Pacey was walking with me down the hallway. “I should’ve pulled him in the first period.” I exhaled and shook my head. “That could’ve saved some morale with the rest of the guys.”

  “Dammit, Coach. You didn’t have a choice.” Pacey rarely stood up to me, so it caught me off guard.

  I paused and crossed my arms. “What would you have done? Huh?”

  Pacey blanched but stood his ground. “I would’ve done exactly what you did. And I would bench that son of a bitch for the next three games.”

  We continued walking. “And what do you think McManus and Wellington would have to say about that? Benching their star player?”

  “Coach.” Pacey grabbed my forearm. “If he plays like he did tonight, it will hurt the team, not help it. I know you report to those guys, but there’s a reason you’re the coach, not them.”

  “Thanks, Pacey.” I clapped him on the shoulder. He was young and inexperienced, but that night he was the voice of reason. “Now, let’s go in there and tear Lockwood a new one.”

  His eyes lit up. “I haven’t seen you this fired up in a long time.”

  I felt it. For the first time in a long time, the passion, the drive, it was all coming back.

  The fans were going to be surly. There was no way I was leaving McManus auditorium through the lobby. Gunnar Lockwood was supposed to save the Otters, not sink them. I had been oddly calm in the post-game breakdown, and I could tell that it freaked the players out more than if I’d come in and started throwing around the trash cans.

  As I waited for Chloe in my office, I pulled out a couple of my old playbooks. If I wasn’t going to be able to rely on Lockwood to play by the rules, I needed to bring back some old standbys – plays that had worked well for the Otters in the past. It was time to get back to our roots.

  “Dad?” Chloe opened the door.

  I looked up from my notes, “Hi, sweetie.”

  Her eyes were rimmed in red and her bottom lip started to quiver. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  I pushed back from my desk and rushed to her. “Of course.” I hugged her and she wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed me tightly. I could feel her little body shaking as she started to cry.

  “It’s okay, Chloe.” I rocked my daughter and willed her to stop crying. Her little sobs were the worst thing I could imagine and as a father, all I wanted to do was fix whatever was wrong and make them stop. “What’s wrong?”

  “They were so mean,” she whimpered into my shoulder.

  “Who, honey?” I kept squeezing her and that’s when I noticed that Amber was standing behind her, with tears in her eyes. Amber stepped into the light that poured out into the hallway from my office. “Some of her friends were a little upset at the results from the game.”

  “Oh. It’s just a game, Chloe.”

  “That’s what I said,” she sniffled as she pulled away from me. She wiped at the tears on her face. Amber grabbed a box of tissues from my desk and handed one to Chloe, dabbing her own eyes as well.

  “I ran into Chloe during intermission and she asked me to sit with her,” Amber explained. “Her friends said some not very nice things.”

  “Then they’re not really your friends,” I growled.

  Amber shot me a look.

  “I told them to stop saying bad things about you, but they didn’t. Then Amber told them to grow up.” Chloe stood back and cracked a little smile.

  “Amber’s right,” I nodded, thankful that she had been there to stand up for Chloe.

  “I’ve got a thick skin, kiddo. People will always have something to say about the coach. I don’t need you to worry about, or to stand up for me.” I stood up. “Same goes for you.” I pointed at Amber.

  Amber seemed lost for words and lingered in the door opening. “I… I should get going. Faith will be looking for me.”

  I didn’t want her to leave. “Thanks again, Amber. Have a good night.”

  “You too… Coach.” The c-word sounded odd coming from Amber’s lips, then she disappeared into the hallway.

  “Come on, Chloe. It’s past your bedtime.” My daughter let me hold her hand and the two of us left the auditorium through the staff exit.

  The cold front had intensified and even though the heat was on full blast in the car, we could both see our breath.

  “Dad.” Chloe leaned in between the seats. “You said that I can tell you anything, right?”

  A lump formed in my throat. Chloe sounded more serious than any eight-year-old should sound. “Of course.”

  “Miss Mina has been helping a lot. You know, with everything.”

  Miss Mina was Chloe’s therapist, and this was the first time she’d ever talked about their sessions.

  “That’s good to hear.”

  She patted my shoulder. “I know that Mom isn’t coming back. And that makes you sad.”

  “I’m okay, Chloe. I’m not sad anymore.” It was the truth, I didn’t have any feelings about Kira, at all. “And Chloe. It doesn’t make me sad if you want to talk to me about it.”

  It felt good to be having this heart to heart with Chloe, even though it should have been done months earlier. “I want you to know you can talk to me about anything. Got it?”

  “Got it.” I could see her nod in the rear-view mirror. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something else.

  “Spit it out, Chloe.” I laughed.

  “Mom has a new boyfriend.”

  I nodded. This wasn’t news to me. “She told you?”

  “She did.”

  I didn’t feel like I had the tools to have this discussion with Chloe. Maybe I needed to see a therapist too, just to figure out how to navigate this whole mess with my daughter. I channeled every movie I had ever seen featuring a therapist before I spoke next.

  “And how does that make you feel?” I turned up the blower on the heater and the frost on the inside of the window started to disappear.

  “I’m okay with it.” She shrugged. “I guess. Although I’m pretty mad at her for leaving.”

  That therapist was worth her weight in gold.

  “Me too.” It was okay to agree with being mad, wasn’t it?

  The windshield had finally cleared enough for me to see and I put the car in gear. “Put your seatbelt on.” Chloe was still leaning in between the front seats. She flopped into the back and buckled up.

  “Dad?”

  I thought that the conversation was done. “Yes?”

  “If Mom can have a boyfriend, it’s okay for you to have a girlfriend.”

  This was definitely not where I thought the conversation was headed. “Oh, really?” The line of headlights leaving the parking lot was slowly snaking its way to the street.

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks, Chloe. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  My heart was pounding. The only thing, or rather, the only person keeping Amber and I from being together, had just given us her express permission. Chloe seemed wise beyond her years, but what she said next, made me realize that she wasn’t so oblivious to what was going on around her. At all.

  “And I think it should be Amber.”

  Someone honked behind me and I realized that the line had advanced. “Sheesh,” I muttered and gave a wave. “I’m going.” Chloe was making patterns in the frost with her fingernail.

  My cell phone rang, and I connected it to the Bluetooth.

  Hello?

  “Coach, I need you to come back to the rink.”

  It was Andy.

  What’s going on Andy. Can it wait? I’ve got Chloe with me.

  I wished that I hadn’t put the call on the speaker system.

  Seventeen

  Amber

  The knock on the door was fast and hard. I had just taken my boots off and put the kettle on to boil. “One second,” I shouted.

  I ran to the door in my sock feet and glanced behind the curtain. I knew the blue eyes on the other side of the door instantly. I opened the door and was met with two sets of those blue eyes, Dean’s and Chloe’s.

  “Hi, Dean. Hi, Chloe.” My voice went up at the end of the names, questioning why there were here on my doorstep after ten o’clock.

  “Amber, I was wondering if you could watch Chloe? Something has come up that I need to deal with.” He was speaking quickly, and it sounded important.

  I grabbed my coat from the banister. “Sure. I can come over now.”

  The kettle started to whistle. “Shit. After I shut this off.” I rushed into the kitchen to turn off the stove.

  At Dean’s house, he ordered Chloe to get into her pajamas. “Make sure she brushes her teeth.” He pointed at Chloe. “And she goes right to bed. No reading under the covers.” Chloe rolled her eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  “I’ll explain when I get back,” he whispered.

  I held the front door and as I was about to close it behind him, he stopped. “Thank you.” He grabbed me around my waist, kissed me hard, and then disappeared. I stood shell-shocked at the kiss. We hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences since he had been naked in my bed. And last I heard, we were supposed to be neighbors, friends, not… what was that? A fucking kiss? My mind was racing.

  I shivered and shut the door. With Dean’s kettle on the stove, I headed upstairs to make sure Chloe wasn’t hiding under the blankets with Nancy Drew. Chloe was just leaving the bathroom and ensured me that she had brushed her teeth.

  As I tucked her into bed, she grabbed a book off her dresser. “Amber, can I read just one chapter?” she asked.

  I was torn. “It’s a school night, and your dad said that you need to get some sleep.”

  “It’s a short one. I swear, I’ll turn the light off after it’s done. I promise.”

  I held out my hand. “Let me see this chapter.”

  Chloe put the book in my hand, and I opened it to the page with the figure skater bookmark.

  “See, there’s just one page left in the chapter, I just want to know what’s going to happen.”

  I sat on the edge of her bed. “How about you read it to me and then I’ll shut off the lights.” If she was a bookworm like Dean said, there was no way she was going to stop after that page if left unattended.

  “Sure,” she smiled and took the book from my hands.

  It took about two minutes to finish the chapter. I took the book from her hands. “It’s time for bed, Chloe. I’ll take this with me and leave it on the table downstairs for you.”

  I thought that she was going to protest, but instead, she sighed and curled up under her pink comforter. “Okay,” she murmured.

  “Good night, Chloe,” I said and walked to the door.

  “Night, Amber.” Her eyes were already shut.

  I left the door slightly ajar and rushed to get to the kettle before its whistle pierced through the silence of the house. I turned on the tv and curled up on Dean’s very cold leather sofa with an Otters’ blanket and tried to find something to watch until he returned.

  “Amber.” I opened my eyes and felt my shoulder being jostled. I tried to look at Dean, but my face was stuck to the leather. I must’ve fallen asleep somewhere in between reruns of Jeopardy! and CSI Miami.

  “Hi.” I rubbed my cheek. “Is everything okay?”

  Dean sat beside me and rested his hand on my thigh. “Kind of.” He shook his head and looked exhausted.

  “Rough night?” I rubbed his shoulder.

  “Tell me about it.” The leather groaned as he reclined into the sofa beside me, letting his head fall back. “Exactly how mean were Chloe’s friends?”

  Was this the most pressing thing to discuss? Not the emergency he had rushed out to take care of.

  “A couple of them said you should be fired. It sounded like they were parroting something their parents likely said. It didn’t sound like little girl talk. That one girl, Olive, seems like a good kid. The other two, I’m not too sure about.”

  Dean sat up. “Thank you for helping her with the mean girls. I know that it meant a lot to her.”

  “No problem,” I smiled. “I was glad to have been there.”

  I turned the tv off and the fireplace cast an orange glow on the side of Dean’s face. Pressing a man for information never worked, so I folded the blanket and started to get up. “Amber,” he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down.

  “What are you—”

  He interrupted my question with a kiss, but I wasn’t having it. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away. “You can’t do this,” I said. “You can’t kiss me when it’s convenient, or whenever you feel like it – or tell me we’re friends and then touch me.”

  He held my hand. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  I stopped resisting. “What?”

  He smiled and rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. “Will you go on a date with me?”

  I jerked my head back. What was with all the flip-flopping? “I thought we discussed this. That we can’t do this right now.”

  He tilted his head towards the stairs. “The boss gave me her blessing.”

  “What are you talking about?” I started to hear my heartbeat in my ears.

  “After the game, Chloe told me that I should ask you to be my girlfriend.”

  The whooshing in my ears got louder. “Really?” The word came out constrained, more like a croak. I cleared my throat, but it didn’t do any good. The tears that had welled up in my eyes broke free and streamed down my face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, or to go out on a date?” It sounded juvenile, but I wanted some clarity.