“I’ve talked it over with Becca and we’re open to the idea. I’m guessing you’ll need a decision sooner than later on this offer?”
“Yes. If you don’t take it, then we need to get on the ball right away on filling it. We want someone in place in the next few weeks, if possible.”
“Can I have a decision to you by mid to late next week?”
“We can accommodate that,” Daniel tells me.
“Thanks, and I’m honored you’d think of me for the position.”
“As with before, please keep this information under wraps until you’ve made your decision and we’ve signed contracts. The news of Jeff’s retirement will hit the media today at some point, I’m sure, so the speculation will be fierce on who we’re going to pick up to fill his position. We have a short list of candidates, but you’re at the top of that list.”
“Absolutely. I’ll keep it between Becca and me until I’ve made my decision, and then I’ll let you guys deal with the rest.”
“Thanks, Scott,” Jacob tells me, offering his hand for me to shake. “It’s been a pleasure coaching you over the years and I hope to coach alongside you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” I tell him, meaning it completely. He’s always been a very fair coach. His style is laid-back, yet demanding for his players. He knows how to coach with a firm, but understanding hand. He knows how to shake things up when they aren’t working the way they should and when to let things shake themselves out when we just need time to figure out the kinks of adding new players to the lineup.
I head back into the locker room to continue packing up. The nostalgia hits me when I walk back in. These guys, some of them having been my teammates for the last eight plus seasons, some of them just this past one, they are like brothers to me and it’s hard to give that up. I know it won’t be the same being a coach, but it will be better than not being a part of this team, and just sitting at home, watching the games on TV. I, of course, will run this new offer by Becca, but I think I’ve made up my mind and plan to accept the new assistant coaching position.
“Everything okay?” Murph asks from the locker space next to mine.
“Yeah,” I tell him, grabbing my group of sticks and wrapping a strap around them to secure them all together.
“You want to grab some lunch today? I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”
“Sure, we can do that. Everything okay?” I ask, concerned.
“Everything’s fine. Just not something I want to talk about here,” he says, looking around the locker room. It’s quiet in here, with everyone focused on their own spaces and things. Don’t get me wrong, we’re all still ecstatic about winning the cup the other night, but it’s also a huge energy crash once it’s all over.
“I should be done here in the next hour. Does that work for you?” I ask.
“Works for me,” he says, going back to packing up his own things. Even for returning players, everyone has to clean out all personal items from the locker rooms each summer. The arena is rented out for various events and sometimes the locker rooms are used. They don’t want anything to go missing, thus the cleanout at the end of each season.
“I’ll have the French dip sandwich, with sweet potato fries, and a side of baked beans,” I tell our server.
“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger with fries,” Murph tells her. She grabs our menus and walks away to put our order in.
“So, what’s up?” I ask, taking a swig of my beer. The season is over, so I can relax and enjoy a beer again with my lunch.
“I’m retiring,” he says, blowing out a huge breath.
“Congrats, man. When are you making it official?”
“Eh, I told Mads to wait a few weeks to release the statement. Let the hype of the win settle down some.”
“What made you finally decide this was the year to hang up the skates?”
“A few things, really, but mostly, it just felt like it was time. We’re not getting any younger.” He laughs and takes a swig of his own beer. “I don’t know how much longer my body can take the hits. Plus, we’ve been talking about starting a family. I know it’s possible to have one and still play—hell, you make it look easy—but most of all, I’m finally ready. Just feels like it’s the right decision.”
“I understand, man. And it doesn’t hurt that we’re going out on top.”
“That’s for sure,” he agrees.
“Anyone else know that you’re retiring?”
“Nope. Just you and Mads. I was planning on telling Coach and Daniel here soon. I’m sure it won’t be much of a shock, since I’d put off negotiating an extension on my contract.”
“Well, your secret is safe with me,” I tell him as our server approaches with our food.
“Thanks, man. I’ll let you know when we decide to make it public.”
“Care if I tell Becca?”
“That’s fine, I know she won’t tell anyone.”
“Nope. That woman is like a vault.”
We both dig in to our food, conversation halting for the most part, as we both focus on eating.
“Are you guys headed home soon?” he asks once we’ve both finished our meals.
“That’s the plan. Becca is itching to spend some time at the cabin and with family. We’re still deciding on what the future holds, but with Michael starting kindergarten this fall, we’ve got to decide quickly so we can get him registered. She’s done the pre-registration, both here and in Anchorage, just to have our bases covered, but we still need to finalize some things.”
“I understand that. I’m looking forward to the time off, I think. That might all change when the new season starts and I’m not a part of the team, but I’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he says on a chortle.
Our server drops off the bill, both of us reaching for it at the same time. “I got this, man,” he says, and I don’t argue with him. We’ve been friends long enough we’ve come to an agreement and no longer bicker about things like that.
“Thanks for lunch. Let’s plan on getting together again before Becca and I leave town. You and Mads can come over for dinner sometime this week.”
“Sounds good, just let me know what night works best for you guys and what we can bring.”
“I’ll text you to let you know or just let you know tomorrow at the parade,” I tell him as I unlock my truck.
“See ya,” he calls over his shoulder. We both climb into our respective trucks, leaving the restaurant to head home.
“Becca,” I call out as I enter the house. It’s quiet, but her van is in the garage, so that means she either has the kids down for a nap or they’re outside playing.
I walk through the entryway and into the living room, looking out the windows to the backyard where I find her with the kids. Michael is splashing away in the pool while she’s drying off Anna. I take in my family, the most important people in my life, and I’m reminded once again how lucky I am. How lucky I am that Becca came back to me and gave us another chance.
I open the sliding glass door and walk down the steps to the yard.
“Daddy!” Anna calls out to me once she spots me. Becca lets her go and she runs over to me, wrapping herself around my legs. I bend down and swoop her up into my arms.
“You’re still wet!” I tell her, tickling her side and she just giggles in my arms. “Hey, babe.” I greet my wife, pulling her into my side and dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “How’s it been around here so far today?”
“Good, just about this one’s naptime,” she says, tickling Anna’s belly. “Otherwise, we’ve just had a fun morning, playing, then had a quick lunch before jumping back in the pool. Can you keep an eye on Michael while I go get Anna down for her nap?”
“Sure, unless you want me to take her in. You can relax and read in the shade,” I offer.
“Dad, can you get in with me?” Michael calls out to me.
“Give me a few minutes, buddy. I’m going to go put your sister down and then I
’ll change into my trunks. How does that sound?”
“Hurry up! I want you to throw me!”
I laugh at his enthusiasm.
“I’ll be as fast as I can,” I tell him, then turn to my wife. “Go, relax.” I place a chaste kiss on her lips before I walk away with our daughter in my arms.
I get Anna up into her room and out of her bathing suit and wet swim diaper. “Do you need to potty?” I ask her. Becca has been working with her lately to potty train her and she’s almost all the way done.
“Yes,” she tells me and runs off for the bathroom just outside her room. She returns a minute or so later, and I help her back into her clothes, then tuck her into her bed for her nap.
“Sweet dreams.” I kiss her forehead after tucking her blanket around her and setting her lovey next to her, just as she likes it. “Love you, baby girl.”
“Love you,” she says as she drifts off to sleep. We lucked out in that department—our kids love their sleep.
I leave her room, flipping on the monitor first before I close the door behind me. I head for our bedroom and quickly change into my swim trunks, then grab the monitor from Becca’s side of the bed to bring outside with me.
“Do you need anything?” I ask from the deck before I head down.
“Can you bring me a glass of water, please,” Becca calls out.
“Yep, anything else?”
“Nope, that’s all.”
“Michael, you good?” I ask my son.
“I’m good, Dad,” he tells me as he splashes all around. We’ve had him in swim lessons since he was a baby, so the kid is very good in the water.
“I’ll be right back then.” I step back into the house, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge before making my way down poolside.
“One bottle of water,” I say to Becca as I hand it over and set the monitor on the little table next to her lounge chair.
“Thanks,” she says, taking a large drink. She’s got on her bikini and a cover-up, but I can still see the curves of her body and I have to fight my thoughts from turning X-rated. The last thing I need is a hard on when I get in the pool with my son.
“What’s that look for?” she asks me, having caught me.
“Just taking my fill of you,” I tell her honestly. No sense in hiding it. She knows what she does to me and how in love with her I am.
“Go,” she chides. “Play with your son, now. Save that look for later.” She winks at me.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I will be saving those thoughts for later.”
I set my water bottle down on the table next to hers and take off for the pool. I cannonball into the deep end and pop out of the water right next to Michael. We play for the next hour or so, racing around, throwing him in the water, Michael sliding down the slide and showing me his new tricks off the small diving board we had installed.
I’m exhausted when we’ve finally had enough and agree we can get out of the pool.
“I think I’ve worked up an appetite. How about a snack?” I say to Michael as we dry off.
“Can we have a popsicle?”
“If that’s what you want, I don’t see why not,” I tell him, then turn to Becca. “Do you want anything?”
“I could go for a snack. I think we’ve got some chips and dip inside that I can bring down.”
“I can get it, babe,” I tell her.
“You’re still all wet. Sit down and dry off some. I’ll go grab it and see about waking Anna up. I don’t want her to sleep too late this afternoon.”
“If you’re sure,” I say.
“I’m sure. Relax,” she says, laughing at me. I might tend to try and overcompensate, trying to do everything for her when I’m home and don’t have to be anywhere, since she’s the default parent because of my schedule.
I listen to my wife and relax back in a lounge chair, letting the sun warm my skin and dry me off completely.
“Dad, can I go with you on the big truck tomorrow?”
“Sure can, buddy. I think Mom and Sissy are coming along, as well.”
“Yes!” he says excitedly. Oh, the things that excite a five-year-old.
“You ready to fly back to Alaska and go fishing with me? See Uncle Ben and Aunt Ashley?”
“Yes! I’m going to have sleepovers with Grandpa,” he tells me, referring to my dad.
“Is that so?” I ask, knowing he loves spending time with both sets of our parents, just as much as they love spending time with him and Anna.
“Yep. When Grandpa was here, we made plans.”
“Ah, well, we’ll be there soon, probably in a week or so. Mom and I have to pick what date we’re going to fly up still.”
“Here we go. A popsicle for you,” Becca says, setting down a tray with chips and dip and handing Michael a popsicle. Anna trails behind her, holding a sippy cup and her own popsicle. “And chips and dip for us.”
“Thanks, babe.” I pull her in for a kiss once she’s got everything put down. She sits on my lap and reaches over, bringing the tray closer. She snags a chip and scoops up some dip, then offers it to me first.
“Thanks,” I say around the bite before I reach out and feed myself. She leans back, staying on my lap as we just enjoy some family time on this beautiful afternoon.
“Michael was telling me that he’s got some big plans for some sleepovers with Grandpa,” I tell Becca.
“I know, he’s been telling me about it for the last couple of weeks.” She laughs. “They’ve got some pretty detailed plans from the sounds of it.”
“When do you want to fly up?” I ask, reaching for my phone to pull up an airline app.
“When are you done with team stuff?”
“The parade tomorrow is the last thing. I do need to get them an answer by mid to late next week, but I need to talk to you more about that once the kids are in bed tonight. Some details have changed in the offer.”
“How about next Thursday then? Or Tuesday, if you think you’ll have your decision made by then.”
“I’ll check both dates for flights. I think we can make a decision on the job tonight or tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she says as I pull up options.
“Looks like they have better flights on Tuesday. Leave midday, with a layover in Seattle. If we wait until Thursday, we’d be stuck flying all night.”
“Then book the Tuesday flights,” she tells me. “Do I need to grab your wallet so you can book them now?”
“Yes please. Do you want to grab the iPad? It might be easier to enter everything on that rather than my phone.”
“Yep, I’ll be right back,” she says, hopping off my lap.
“Can you bring me a beer while you’re inside?” I call to her.
“Yep, Michael, you need anything to drink?”
“Water, please,” he tells her.
Becca disappears into the house, returning a few minutes later with the iPad, my wallet, a beer for me and her, and the water for Michael.
She passes out the drinks, then returns to her seat on my lap. She pulls up the flights I did and gets everything booked for us to head home next week. “All right, fam. Looks like we’ll be back in Alaska in just a few days! I’ll text Mom our flight info, so they can get us picked up and get some groceries delivered to the house so we’re ready for breakfast the next morning,” she tells me as she pulls up a text message between her and her mom and sends the information.
With our kids finally in bed for the night, I find Becca in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine.
“Want to sit outside?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her waist as I rest my chin on her shoulder.
“Sure, can you turn the fire pit on?”
“Absolutely, unless I can convince you to drop your clothes and get into the hot tub with me.” I graze my thumb across her nipple as I bring my lips to her exposed neck.
“Mhmm.” She moans as she melts back into my embrace. “I think you’ve convinced me,” she says as she turns her head, giving
me better access. “But first, tell me the new developments on the job front.”
“Jeff put in his resignation letter, which opens up the first assistant coach position.” We head outside and sit on the deck. “They’ve amended their offer to that position. It comes with a little higher of a salary, not that the money end of things is really that big of a deal. It comes with a little more responsibility, and puts me in a better position to be considered for a head coaching position later down the line. Either when Jacob retires or even with another team, not that I have any desire to go to another team anytime soon.”
“And, you think you’ll be happy coaching?”
“I do. I think it would be the natural progression for me, as we’ve discussed before. It’ll keep me with the team without the demand on my body that playing takes. Yes, it will mean continued travel, but when we’re home, I won’t be expected at the rink as early. No treatment hours. A more regular schedule outside of the travel, which, of course, we’re already used to as a family.”
“If it’s what you want, then you know I’ll support you completely,” she says, taking another sip of her wine. “When would you be required to be back here? I know they do rookie camp during the summer…would you be required to be at that?”
“I’m sure I’ll need to be, but that isn’t until early September, maybe late August, at the earliest. I’m sure we’d be back by then anyways, for Michael to start kindergarten. When does that start here?”
“School starts so early here! Like, early August. So different than when we were kids and always started after Labor Day,” she tells me.
“That is early. I guess we should figure out sooner than later when we’ll need to be back, and get those plans set. That way, the summer doesn’t get away from us and we have to scramble to get back and ready for him to start.”
“Probably a smart idea. I’ll work on that over the next few days. First, I need to get us packed and ready to leave on Tuesday.”
“So, we’re good with this decision?” I ask once more.
“Yes. I think we are, Coach,” she says, a smile on her face.
The First Intermission Page 6