by Teagan Kade
He was, in short, mouthwatering.
I shook my head. These were not thoughts you should be having about your coach, your boss. It would be unprofessional and unethical for anything to happen between us — not that I was suggesting something would … But just in case the topic ever came up, it would need to be shut down immediately.
Yes, Scott Bausch was off-limits.
“Hey, are you all right?” Cormac asked, skating up beside me.
“Sorry?” I squeaked. My head was still spinning with my thoughts on the Scott Bausch dilemma. I shouldn’t even be calling it a dilemma. Nothing had even happened.
Why was I falling for somebody that was such a stain on humanity rather than going for someone charming and sweet like Cormac? “Yeah, I’m fine,” I smiled back.
Scratch that. I didn’t need to go after anyone, really.
“Is your head somewhere else today?” he continued. “Cloud nine?”
I nodded. “I guess you could say that.”
As we skated behind the goal, turning to do another lap around the rink, Cormac drew a bit nearer. His shoulder pads brushed against mine. “It would be in your best interest to pay close attention today.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not trying to start drama, but let’s just say the boys didn’t get all their aggression out in the first round.” He glanced at me with an eyebrow cocked. “If you know what I mean.”
I sighed, exasperated. So, they had decided as a group they were going to try to bully me off the ice with force. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I had worked just as hard, if not harder, to get my spot on this team. They could throw a fit all they wanted. I wasn’t leaving. The only way they were getting me out of this rink was in a body bag.
“Just keep your eyes open and stay vigilant,” Cormac said, before he skated off, joining the rest of the team.
I watched him go and saddle beside Brody. From what I had seen, Cormac was quiet, friendly, and generally good-natured. He was the only one who had been kind to me on my first day. For some odd reason, I trusted him and believed what he had to say. He had an honest face. That, you couldn’t fake.
Today was going to be hell. I relegated myself to it.
Assistant Coach Jamie blew his whistle, summoning the twenty-three of us over to where he and Bausch stood. “I hope you all are ready to work today,” Jamie said as we neared.
“Our last practice,” Bausch began, “was mainly for all of you to learn how to work and play together. Growing pains, if you will. Today’s going to be different. Back to basics. We’ll be focusing on strength and stamina for the first half of training, then switch to tactical drills for the home run.”
Bausch glanced down at the clipboard in his hands. He tapped his pen against the hard surface several times. His mind was chewing on something. After a few seconds of silence, Scott glanced up to us. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but I think it wise I do. Some of you may have not noticed already, but our goaltender is a woman. I don’t expect you to treat her any differently than you would your other teammates, both on and off the ice. Regardless of gender, you all are on the same team. Damn well skate like it.”
Bausch’s attention turned to Jamie. “Anything you want to add, Assistant Coach?”
Jamie smiled, no doubt happy to be involved in the shakedown. “Yeah, to those of you who have reached out to me wanting to discuss how you feel about having a woman on your team, all I have to say is: Suck it up, buttercup.”
There was a smattering of laughter, but it was obvious his statement hadn’t gone over well with a select few. You could see their stance change as they bristled from the offense.
“I hope you’re all ready to work today,” Bausch said, a cruel grin creeping across his face.
It wasn’t long after that the coaching team had us divided and running drills up and down the ice at full speed. The sounds of skates cutting the ice filled the rink. The ever-familiar sawing was the only sound that filled my ears. That and the heavy beat of my breath.
When we were all ready to collapse, we transitioned to a series of defensive and offensive drills. My chest tightened as Jamie directed me to go in goal. Our three starting forwards — Liam, Jensen, and Brody — stared at me, watching me with narrowed eyes, predators stalking their prey. Cormac took his position in front of me to the right. He glanced over his shoulder, offering me an encouraging smile. At least I think he was trying to be encouraging. At the end, his face faltered and drooped into something that looked more like sympathy.
“Keep your eyes on the puck,” Erik called to me.
That was what we told our kids when they first started playing. “I went to training camp too, you know.”
“Well, I don’t want to be doing all the work here,” Erik snapped. “I can’t be everywhere at once.”
We hadn’t even started. Why was he already bitching? “Nobody’s asking you to.”
The sound of Jamie’s whistle cut across the ice and three men at the other side of the rink sprinted toward us. They passed the puck between them. It was like a black pendulum, counting down the seconds of our impending clash. My hands began to sweat inside my gloves as I waited. Liam had murder in his eyes.
This was going to be rough.
Erik skated backwards closer to the goal as Cormac rose to the challenge. He slid alongside Jensen, trying to swipe the puck from him. The two went shoulder to shoulder, bumping and trying to throw each other off balance before Jensen passed the puck to Brody. Before Erik could even reach him, the puck went flying to Liam, who took it behind goal.
I shifted to the side, sealing the gap between my leg and the goalpost to ensure he didn’t get a slick one past me. But instead of taking his chances and shooting, Liam passed the puck off to Jensen and slid beside me. Jensen tried to pass it back to Liam so he could sink it in, but Cormac got the tip of his stick on the pass. It was a slow, messy pass.
I braced myself for the impending quarrel with Liam. He snatched the puck and rammed into me as hard as he could. My back slammed into the crossbar. Pain seared across my spine like a hot whip. But I didn’t submit. I pushed back, wrestling him for control of the puck.
When I caught a brief glimpse of the small black disc, I dropped to my knees and scooped it into my mitt. Liam continued to swipe along the ground, pretending to go after the puck when in reality he was just beating me with his stick.
Jamie blew his whistle, instructing us to stop, but Liam got one more hit in along my ribs before he stopped. I wanted to tackle him to the floor and begin wailing on him, but I simply raised the puck in my hand up high. I maintained my silence as I showed Jamie my prize.
“Good, reset,” Bausch said. “Reset and do it again.”
So, we did. Many, many times. They were just as rough today as they had been during my first practice, taking cheap shots with elbows and sticks whenever they could. More than once Erik tripped me, making me face plant on the ice and allowing them to score. I don’t know why I had expected him to at least play fair and not batter me too, considering he was on my side.
But the sticks, elbows, and jabs weren’t the worst of it. That was the glass. Only once did I get caught out of my box, chasing down Jensen when Brody the Giant whipped across the ice and smashed me against the side. My head whiplashed into the hard surface, knocking me senseless, if only for a few seconds. My knees shook, struggling not to give out from under me while my stomach knotted inside of my body. I felt like I was going to throw up, but I held it together and calmly skated back to goal.
I couldn’t let them see their bullshit was working. I couldn’t let them know they were close to breaking my bones and proving their point, because it wasn’t true. I was good enough to be the starting goaltender for a major NHL team. I knew it deep down and nothing, not even these prancing pony boys, was going to stop me achieving my dream.
Another whistle rang in the practice rink, stopping the action. “Gather in,” Sco
tt waved us down.
Were we finally done? I felt as though I been a punching bag for the last three hours and thought it wasn’t going to end until I was in the back of an ambulance.
“That’s it for today,” he began. “I think that was solid practice. I saw ambition and talent on the ice today. That’s a cold concoction for success. This is the type of attitude I want to see when you all step out on the ice against another team. Excellent work. Hit the showers.”
I simply nodded, feeling as though if I moved too much something inside me would shatter. Whether that was a bone or my pride, I wasn’t sure.
“You won today,” Cormac whispered, placing his hand on my shoulder.
Just the slight pressure made the entire area pulse with pain. “Thanks,” I nodded, trying to put on my best smile.
I carried myself out of that rink with my head held high and my back straight. I refused to let them see the pain and bruising they had inflicted upon me. No, they wouldn’t get any satisfaction from me, not today.
“Hey,” Scott called out to me as I passed him. “You did good in there. A couple of those hits looked like pretty heavy, but you took it like a champ and soldiered on. Color me impressed.”
Liam shouldered me as he passed, knocking me off balance. I stumbled a bit but ignored him and met Scott’s blue eyes instead. “Thank you… Coach.”
CHAPTER NINE
RAE
Without a key to Scott’s apartment I was forced to wait downstairs in the cold, slumped against the wall like the world’s sorest sack of potatoes.
I moved to the step beside the shrubbery, one leg, two legs, but everything I did was met with a wall of pain.
I knew it was going to be brutal out there on the ice. I didn’t expect Stalingrad with skates on. They were testing me, yes, and I had to take it. There was no other course of action.
Yeah, and deal with the consequences.
“I should really give you a key, shouldn’t I?”
I’d never been so pleased to hear anyone’s voice in my entire life.
I did my best to smile, but even my face was in pain. I tried to get up from the spot I was sitting but half-collapsed, my legs buckling.
Scott dashed over, dropping his bag to scoop me up and wrap my arm around his neck. “Jesus, Rae, I didn’t know it was this bad.”
I tried out the smile again, wincing. “It’s nothing, Coach. Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll be good as new.”
Scott didn’t look convinced, doubling back for his bag and taking his keys from his pocket. Against his side — his oh-so-warm side — I hobbled to the door with him.
He slid the key in and pushed the door wide, helping me through.
Even getting up to Scott’s apartment was a torturous affair. Every step brought a fresh flood of pain. Even my butt was sore. Like, seriously, how do you bust up what is basically a body cushion?
Once we were inside Scott’s apartment, everything just sort of slumped sideways, the tiredness hitting me in full. My head was in a daze, loose and wooly.
I dropped into the sofa and watched Scott through slatted eyes standing there with his hands on his hips, concern sketched over his features. It was cute, really, the level of distress there. Cute, and, well, scary, too, because did I really look that bad?
“God,” said Scott, “this is all my fault.”
I exhaled shallowly. “I chose to go out there. It was my choice, and it’s fine, really.”
I winced again, a flare of pain shooting up my side where Jensen body-checked me against the barrier.
Scott shook his head and approached the sofa, helping lift me back to my feet. I was standing — barely.
More like a concerned parent than a coach, Scott stood there and pointed towards the hall. “Bathroom, now. Into the hot tub and I don’t want to hear a word of protest otherwise. I’ll get the water running.”
I stood there like the walking dead, swaying back and forth and listening to the water running down the hall. It was soothing in a way.
It was a long and torturous walk down the hallway, the bathroom lights altogether too bright given my aversion all things sensory.
Scott ran a hand in the hot tub-cum-lap pool.
I dimly watched the water. It looked so inviting I instantly started to strip. So what he was there watching? It could have been half the team for all I cared. I just wanted to get into that water.
When I slung my top to the ground, I heard Scott pull in a sharp breath. His eyes were on my ribs, no doubt fifty shades of purple by now.
“My god… Rae. I’ve seen players take some beatings, but…”
I waved it off, reaching around to unclasp my bra.
“I’ll, ah, be outside,” Scott said nervously, stepping sideways but still with his eyes on me.
The door closed and I continued to strip, running on auto-pilot, my jeans and panties taking an awfully long time to pretzel out of.
Legs shaking, I maneuvered myself into the bath, sliding in until only my head and breasts remained above water, the rest of my body lost in the sweet, blissful warmth of the tub.
I sighed, closing my eyes as the water enveloped my naked, broken body. Somewhere in my head it occurred to me I should have worn a swimsuit, but it was too late for that.
The taps continued to run, the water level slowly rising to cover my nipples.
Slowly, the pain began to ebb away, or maybe I was simply becoming numb to it, I don’t know, only that I wanted to lie there forever soaking it all in.
At least I now knew where I stood in the team. It was clear who was out to get me and who I could rely on. The battle lines had been drawn, so to speak, and I’m glad Scott didn’t back down or treat me differently than any of the others. A show had to be made, a point proven… at any cost.
I was half-asleep, the water lapping at my chin, when there was a knock at the door.
“It’s been fifteen minutes. I probably don’t need to remind you prolonged heat will worsen your inflammation. I brought these.”
I looked sideways to see him holding several ice packs past the door.
“It’s for your own good,” he added.
I lifted my arm up and shut off the water, doing my best to lever myself from the tub.
I stood there with my arms wrapped around myself feeling somewhat better but nowhere near back to one hundred, even fifty, percent.
For the first time I spotted myself in the mirror and actually skipped backwards in fright at the black and blue canvas my body had become. I looked like something out of a ghost train.
“Everything good in there?” Scott asked.
I looked around. “Ah, I just need a towel.”
“Shit,” comes the reply, “one second.”
I waited there starting to shiver, even under the heat lamps.
“I’m coming in,” Scott announced, gently pushing the door wide and averting his eyes, holding the towel out for me.
I took it, my hands jittery, and wrapped it around myself. It was shorter than I expected, barely covering my torso and about an inch or two from the big reveal.
But I didn’t care. I only wanted to rest.
“Here, let me help you,” Scott turned, his eyes quickly scanning me up and down before pulling me against the rocky wall of his side and leading me out into the lounge again.
The lights of Seattle looking on, Scott helped me lay face down on the sofa. One of my arms dangled off the side, my head turned slightly sideways against the cushion.
I breathed out. “Much… better…”
Scott crouched beside me and smiled, that charming take-your-pants-off smile that’s probably broken a hundred hearts and soon to be one more. And those eyes. God, it was like staring into the sun — too long and you just know you’re going to get burnt.
Scott licked his lips, looking over me. “I’ve got some sports rubs down back. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“You don’t have to,” I started, but Scott cut me off w
ith a slice of his hand.
“It’s not up for negotiation.”
I was almost asleep again when he returned with three small jars, placing them down and sitting on the edge of the sofa beside me. He undid the first jar and scooped two fingers inside, applying the cream to my shoulders and neck, his strong hands working into my bruises and sore spots.
I purred, actually purred like a cat as he went about it. Wet hair was plastered against my face, a strand or two against the side of my mouth, but my thoughts were only on Scott and the way he soothed my skin and body.
His hands came to the top of the towel. “May I? I need to get to your ribs.”
I murmured something that sounded like agreement in return and let him roll the towel down, his fingers ever so slightly brushing the sides of my breasts. The towel now covering only my ass, my side and back bared, Scott applied more cream.
My ribs had taken the main brunt of the affair, painfully raw and exposed, but Scott used the next salve gently, his fingers sweeping across the skin and a wonderful, radiant heat following in its wake.
I could get used to this, I thought, ever-present of his cautious eyes glued to my body.
His hands worked lower, fanning out across my lower back, the towel bunching up further, starting to slip off, but I was in no position to correct it. In a way, I kind of didn’t want to. I wanted him to see.
His hands continued rubbing the salve into my back, but I noticed his eyes were most definitely on the top of my backside, his lips slightly ajar and an expression on his face caught somewhere between curiosity and outright hunger.
I smiled at that, lifting and angling my hips so the towel slid further sideways and more was revealed, the briefest hint of my sex on show caught down in that dark triangle between my thighs.
He made no attempt to pick up the towel, silently rubbing and soothing.
I tried my best not to twitch when his hands started on my thighs, always careful not to dwell too long or too close to the danger zone, but treacherously close all the same.