Head Coach EPB

by Lia Riley

  “Oh my God.” Her hand flew over her mouth.

  “Jesus Christ, that’s Amber’s van—my sister-in-law.” He threw open the door. “Olive’s in that car.”

  Neve was out of the car in a flash and ran after him. Pain shot through her ankle and she grit her teeth, ignoring the fire spreading up her calf. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but making sure the people in that van were going to be okay.

  She looked into the front window and recognized the beautiful woman—Amber, Maddy’s sister—behind the steering wheel. The airbag had deployed. She had a gash under one eye that bled, but otherwise she seemed okay, just dazed. Tor tried to tear open the side door, but it was jammed.

  Neve pounded on the glass. “Are you okay?” she shouted at Amber.

  The woman lolled her head to one side. “The girls? It’s so quiet. Are the girls okay?”

  Neve hit 911 and the dispatcher answered on the second ring. She gave their location and a brief description of the accident, unable to give an update on the girls in the back as the windows were tinted. Tor made a guttural sound, like a wild animal, as he hauled on the door. Muscles bulged in his neck. His knuckles were white. With a groan, the door gave way. But only a foot. He tried again. Nothing.

  “Girls?” he shouted. “Olive.”

  Someone cried, “Help!”

  Tor wedged his shoulder into the gap, but he was too big to fit.

  But she wasn’t.

  “I can get through that,” Neve said, tearing off her jacket. “Step back. The ambulance is on its way. Listen to me. They are going to be fine.” She rested her hand on his tight jaw. “I promise.”

  “That’s my baby girl in there.”

  She rested a hand on his cheek. “I’ve got her, I promise.”

  There were a lot of things that sucked about being five foot. Short jokes. The way clothes fit. The fact top shelves might as well be the summit of Everest. But when it came to crawling into a crashed van, there was a distinct advantage.

  A girl curled into a ball in a middle seat, and whimpering. “Are you okay?”

  “Is the van going to blow up? I saw this movie one time where there was an accident. Gas leaked. There was a fire.”

  “Shhhhh,” Neve crooned, placing a hand on the girl’s arm. “Nothing is going to blow up. I promise. The police are coming. So is an ambulance. Everything is going to be just fine.”

  The two younger girls were in the back. One, Olive’s cousin, was holding her shoulder. The knot in her clavicle made Neve’s stomach churn. She’d clearly broken it. Olive was unconscious. Like Amber, she had a head wound. There was blood. A lot of blood.

  She didn’t want to unbuckle her or lay her down flat. First aid wasn’t her specialty, but it looked like Olive had hit her head pretty hard. Blood smeared the back side window. There was a chance she’d hurt her neck and if they moved her it would make the injury worse.

  “How is she?” Tor snapped at the door. “How are all of them?”

  The sound of police cars rose from below the road. She couldn’t tell Tor that Olive was unconscious. She had to distract him. “Get out into the road and be ready to greet the first responders. They will be here in a second. Any traffic coming needs to be routed.”

  “Neve.”

  “Do what you can, Tor. I’ll do my part. I promise—you can trust me.”

  She was asking for a lot. For everything. Tor loved his daughter more than anyone in the world. Neve had to make sure she was going to be okay.

  “Is Olive dead?” the girl next to her whimpered.

  “No, of course not.” Neve was aware that while Olive might not be responsive that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear them. She had to feign enough bravery for the little girl to believe she’d be okay. “There’s a little blood. That’s all.”

  “Lots.”

  “It’s just because she cut her head. Heads are weird like that. They bleed a lot if they get injured. But that’s perfectly normal.” She took off her grey fleece top and crouched in front of Olive, pressing the material to her head to staunch the flow.

  Olive moaned. A good sign.

  “What happened?” she muttered.

  “I think you guys spun out on some ice. Remember that big storm last night? It made the roads slippery.”

  “My head hurts,” Olive moaned.

  Thank goodness, she was speaking. And making sense.

  “I’m not surprised,” Neve said in a calm voice. “You gave it one heck of a whack.”

  “Am I going to die?”

  The sirens were close. Tor was waving them in. Two paramedics jumped out.

  “I’m going to tell you the truth. You’ll have a headache. But you are going to get medicine that will make you feel better really soon.”

  “Can you . . . can you hold my hand?”

  “Of course.” Neve reached out.

  The girl beside them started crying. “I’m scared.”

  “It’s totally normal. You were just in a big, scary car accident. But I want you to look out the window. Do you see all those people? Police cars and two ambulances and a fire truck are outside. All those guys are helpers. They are here for one reason. To make you all okay.”

  “Girls?” Amber called from the front seat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Everyone is fine back here. They’re a little shaken up. A lot scared. But they’re going to be okay.”

  “I hate blood,” Olive mumbled, her eyes flickering open.

  “Me too.” Neve gave her hand a squeeze. “But you are a brave girl. You are so strong. And you are going to sit here with me and take slow, deep breaths while your dad and these men save the day.”

  “I’m sorry that I said I hated you. I told my dad that. But I was mad.”

  Neve shook her head. “I promise, that doesn’t matter. You love your father and I was kind of a jerk in that article, let’s face it.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I . . . well . . .” Neve shook her head. “It’s complicated, honey.”

  “My dad has never had a girlfriend. You are the first person he has ever brought around. Don’t mess it up.”

  “I will do my best,” she said.

  “I like you,” the girl said. “If you do love him, that would be okay with me.”

  There it was. The blessing from the daughter. Neve swallowed heavily. She didn’t have it in her to explain that there probably wasn’t going to be any relationship. That after these few strange minutes in the car, Olive would probably never see her again. Once they got back to Denver, there was every chance that she and Tor were going to be right back where they’d started. Head coach. Journalist. The divide between them was too great.

  Firefighters ripped back the sliding door with a Jaws of Life wrench. Neve moved out, letting the paramedics have access.

  Tor’s hair stood wild. His shirt bottom hung untucked. His gaze was unfocused. “Is she . . . What . . . Did . . .”

  “Olive’s going to be fine.” Neve took both his hands.

  He glanced down. Blood streaked her fingers.

  “That hers?”

  Neve nodded. “She hit her head.”

  He kicked a piece of ice across the road. “Goddamn it.”

  “It’s going to look worse than it is. She’s talking. I saw her move her fingers and legs.”

  He heaved a ragged exhalation. “Her cousins?”

  “One seems in shock. The other has a broken collarbone. Tell you what, why don’t you ride with her in the ambulance? If you give me the keys to your car, I can follow along after.”

  He dug in his pockets and fished out the keys. “Thank you . . .” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but just then they removed Olive on a stretcher.

  “Go to her,” Neve said. And she watched him climb up after his daughter into the ambulance. The other three were taken out on stretchers as well. She got the name of the hospital and walked back to the Porsche alone. Cars went by at a slow pace, everyone rubbernecking at the a
ction.

  When she got back into his car, behind the wheel, nerves set in. Her teeth clattered. Her hands shook. She’d been so frightened. But she knew her words were true. Olive was going to be okay. Maybe this was the payment the universe demanded—she and Tor couldn’t work out, but the trade-off meant that a little girl got to keep her life.

  She sniffed. Cedar. Pine. It smelled like him.

  Two tears stole down her face. She glanced in the rearview and rubbed them away. She’d gotten out of her rut all right. In the past forty-eight hours, not only had she found her missing sex drive, but also a part of her heart that she hadn’t realized was missing. A part that came in the form of a six-foot-tall, surly coach.

  She wouldn’t regret the experience. She wouldn’t regret any of it. Putting the car into First, she steeled her jaw. No matter what happened, she’d always have the memory of these two perfect days.

  Gaining a little speed, she got the car into Second and then dropped it into Third, huffing a frustrated breath. After all, there was no way in hell she’d be able to cover the hockey beat in Denver if she was having a relationship with the head coach. Zero. Zilch. The conflict of interest was simply too great. Today proved it.

  Their relationship was hopeless, doomed from the start.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tor felt like he owed the universe a favor. His little girl was going to be okay. She had a small concussion and a few bumps and bruises. Otherwise she was fine. Everyone else in the car had avoided serious injuries. A stroke of luck, the paramedics had said, seeing as there had been no guardrail on that particular stretch of road. If Amber had fishtailed left instead of right? He didn’t want to think about the consequences too hard.

  Maddy walked out to the lobby. “Hey, you.” She plopped into the seat next to him. “What a day.”

  “Hell of a way to start a honeymoon,” he said gruffly, then took a sip from his lukewarm coffee.

  “A ticket to Tahiti can be replaced,” she said. “Our little girl can’t.”

  That was the best part of Maddy. She always said “our” daughter. Never “my.” She valued him as Olive’s father and never tried to demean him or diminish him in her eyes. For that, he’d been grateful and always did the same. They weren’t right as a couple, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be right as parents.

  “Very true.”

  “Where’s your date? From the wedding. The striking brunette.”

  “Neve.”

  “Neve?” Maddy’s brow furrowed. “Not like Neve Angel, the Age reporter?”

  He nodded. “One and the same.”

  She laughed, astonished. “I’ve never seen a picture of her, but I’ve read her column. Thought you two—”

  “Couldn’t stand each other?”

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  “Guess we’d both been lying to ourselves. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t think it’s going to work out. I asked her to take my car back to Denver. I’ll stay here until they discharge Olive. They said another two days max. There’s a few car rentals in town that do one-way service.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not going to work out?”

  He tried to ignore her probing look, but to no avail. “It’s not like you and me. She loves hockey. She works as much as I do, more even.”

  Maddy arched a brow. “Whoa, defensive much? I just asked why.”

  “She’s a reporter, covers the hockey beat. She can’t be with me and do her job, not if me and the team are her job. It’s a conflict. An impasse. What can I say? I played with fire inviting her to go away for the weekend, and it didn’t do anything but burn us.”

  “There’s no solution?”

  “We’re on opposing teams. We called a truce, but it’s over now. My goalie got arrested last night. Posted bond. He’s MIA. The lockout isn’t letting up. She has to cover all of it. And I can’t tell her to quit her job or go off and report on badminton or something.”

  “I didn’t realize you ever backed down from a challenge,” Maddie said lightly. “Or played to lose.”

  “Life isn’t a game.”

  “Really? Because from where I sit it’s rough, fast, exciting. Sometimes you get a throat punch. Sometimes you score.” She glanced at her watch. “Anyway, I’ve got to go back in. I promised Olive I’d be there when the nurse gave her a bath.”

  He cleared his throat. “She’s going to be glad to have you there for that job, and not me.”

  “You know, we might not have made a good marriage, but we’re darn good co-parents.” Her smile was small but genuine. “Amber and her girls told me what Neve did for Olive. How strong she was. How she kept her calm. She sounds like a good person, Tor. And I saw how you were looking at her.”

  “And how was that?”

  Her sigh was soft. “Like you finally realized what true love is.”

  And with that she turned around and walked away.

  His ex always did enjoy getting the last word—especially when she was right.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Neve hung up the phone in the Age lobby and stared at the massive modern-art piece hanging at the wall. It looked like a Rorschach test. Twenty minutes ago she might have been tempted to describe it as a tree branch dangling over a black hole. Now it was like a rising sun. A new day.

  She’d barely hung on since getting back from her weekend with Tor. The Donnelly story was on lockdown. She’d been able to get a copy of the charges. Assault. He was out on bail and nowhere to be seen. The victim wasn’t talking. The woman purported to be in the middle of it had disappeared.

  All that lingered were rumors. Had Patch quit the team? Some suggested he’d decided to quit professional sports and return to his first ambition—joining the priesthood.

  What a mental picture that made—a Catholic priest who broke arms with his bare hands. Neve didn’t attend church but with that stage billing, she’d be curious.

  Twenty minutes ago she’d sat in her grey cubicle at the Age dashing off an update on the lockout. There wasn’t much to say about the negotiations. The thesaurus didn’t have eight hundred words for blah, blah, blah.

  That was when the phone rang. “Neve Angel, this is Tom McGovern, senior vice president of Hellions Communications . . .”

  Hugging her chest, she took the elevator back up to her office, walked to her desk and stared at the computer.

  There was only one person she wanted to share this news with.

  She clicked up her email and typed Tor.Gunnar@hellions.com into the address box just as a commotion broke out up front. A few people made loud exclamations. Maybe it was someone’s birthday. Usually free cake got people excited.

  She looked up, but what she saw wasn’t real. She knew that on a bone-deep level.

  Maybe a disgruntled barista had spiked her dark roast with LSD as a joke. Because there was no way—no way—that Tor Gunnar was standing outside her cubicle holding so many roses that he looked like a damn bush.

  She closed her eyes. Counted to three.

  Still there.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “We need to talk,” he replied. “And it’s important. So I figured if I said it here, it would go in the papers.”

  Sure enough, curious reporters were drawing in, keeping their distance but within clear earshot.

  “Speak of the devil. I was just trying to reach out to you.”

  “Guess I beat you to the punch. But here’s the thing. I don’t always have the right words, and it’s not always that easy for me to express how I feel in a relationship, but I can’t go another hour without you hearing this . . . I love you, Neve Angel.”

  She covered her mouth as the world tipped off its axis.

  “Oh my God.”

  That shriek wasn’t hers. An intern had whipped out her phone, no doubt recording this for Facebook Live or something.

  “That’s right. Crazy in love.” He turned around. “Are you jackals getting this? I am in love with Neve Angel. I
have been for a long time, but I was too much of an idiot to know what was staring me in the face. I don’t want to skulk around the edges. Or hide from rumors. I’m here on the up-and-up. Because dating a reporter might be unorthodox, but I’m ready to figure out a way to make it work. I work a dream job, but I’m a greedy man, and want my dream woman too.”

  Knock her over with a feather.

  She rose to her feet, ignoring the slight tremble to her legs, but the moment her gaze locked his warm blue eyes, she went still, as if a calm, tropical wave had washed over her.

  “I guess we both have more in common than you can guess. Because I just so happen to be greedy too, and want my dream man, and my dream job.” She looked around. “Where’s Scott hiding?”

  “Mmmph.” Her boss stepped forward in a hideous purple tie that clashed with his yellow shirt, still swallowing the greasy-looking fast-food burger he was holding. He took a swig out of the sixteen-ounce soda he was holding in the other hand before snapping, “What?”

  “I quit.” Neve’s simple sentence was met with an audible gasp from the other reporters.

  “Neve, no.” Tor stepped forward. “I didn’t come to ask you to leave your job and—”

  “I know that,” she said with a wry smile. “You think I’d love you so much if you had? I am quitting for me. Because, Scott, let’s face it, you kind of suck. You’re a bully. Plus at least half your jokes would make the hair of anyone in Human Resources stand on end and frankly, I deserve better. So as of today I’m the head of public relations for the Denver Hellions, and I’m tendering my resignation here at the Age effective immediately.” She glanced over to Tor. “I was just writing to tell you the news, but you scooped the story.”

  “Angel.” A slow, devastating grin spread across his face, creasing the skin in the corners of his eyes and making her heart pound. “You telling me we’re on the same team?”

  “Looks like it.” She arched a brow. “And my job is to make you look good.”

  He smirked. “Tall order.”

  “I think I can handle it.” She didn’t care that everyone was watching. All she cared about was getting Tor’s mouth on her as soon as possible.