Page 146 of Hat Trick
So, yeah.
I’m waiting for the big third-act conflict. The wrench that gets thrown into my plans and fucks everything up.
“We have a situation,” Mikal Reynolds, our top assistant coach says as he barrels into the locker room before our away game in Minnesota. “Saunders isn’t here.”
“What do you mean Saunders isn’t here?” Maverick looks up from his skates and frowns. “He was literally on the plane with us yesterday afternoon. Or did I dream up that whole flight?”
“Definitely happened. He yelled at me for having my phone out and took it away until we were back at the hotel.” Ethan grins and fixes his shoulder pads. “Joke is on him. I have a burner one I use to troll people who shit on us in social media comments.”
“There is a lot to unpack there.” Hudson glances at Mikal. “Is Coach okay?”
“Don’t know. He said something about was a family emergency and that he was getting on the first flight back to DC.”
“Shit. I hope Olivia is okay,” I say. “Coach hasn’t missed a game since he took this job.”
“He also went five seasons without missing a game when he was in the league.” Grant jumps to his feet and wobbles on his skates. “This is a code red.”
“We’ll worry about Saunders in a minute. You’re taking over for him, right Ren?” Maverick asks Mikal.
“I mean, I can, but I’ve been out for two weeks interviewing for head coaching positions. I’ve missed all of your practices, and I don’t know what the hell kind of shifts you’re running. It’s going to take me more than the time we have before puck drop to watch some film and catch up. ” Mikal eyes our other assistant coach, Parker Barnes. “And you’ve been out on paternity leave.”
“Coach has been doing this shit by himself and putting up with all our stupid asses? Give that man the Jack Adams Award immediately,” Ethan says.
“Hang on. Riley’s been at every practice.” Hudson turns his attention my way. “You haven’t missed a morning skate in months.”
“Whoa. Slow the fuck down.” I hold up my hands and shake my head. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“Oh, fuck yeah, Mitchy,” Grant cheers. “You have to do it.”
“I don’t know the first thing about coaching people who aren’t five years old. And this is an important game,” I rush out. “Every win this late in the year matters. You don’t need someone like me in charge when a loss could tank our playoff chances.”
“Team vote.” Maverick stands and surveys the locker room. “All in favor of Mitchy taking on responsibilities tonight raise your hands.” Twenty arms shoot up in the air, and I shove my glasses up my nose in a fit of nervousness. “Captain has the last say, and I say you’re in. Welcome to the big leagues, Ri.”
“When we lose, I can’t be held responsible.” I accept Coach’s whiteboard from Mikal and stare at the triangles and marks on it. I’ve seen it a thousand times as a player, but looking at it now feels like I’m looking at a calculus problem I have no clue how to solve. “It’s going to be all your fault.”
“A decision I can live with.” Maverick flashes me a grin and grabs his helmet. “Hands in, boys. Let’s go snag a W for one of our best guys.”
I don’t stick around for the huddle, glaring at Mikal and Parker as I storm out of the locker room and head for the ice. This is too much responsibility for me to handle. I can sit on the bench just fine, but leading a team in enemy territory?
I’m going to shit my pants.
“Looking snazzy, Mitchy.” Lexi waves at me from the end of the tunnel, a clipboard tucked under her arm and athletic tape shoved in her pocket. “What’s with the scowl?”
“Coach had to fly home to DC for a family emergency, and guess who got put in charge over the two assistant coaches who are paid to work on shifts and penalty kill plays?Me. The guy who doesn’t know shit about coaching.”
“Wait, what? You’re calling the shots tonight?”
“Apparently. Mikal and Parker both have excuses for why they don’t feel comfortable, but at least they have experience in the role. I’m a fucking novice and they want yours truly to make the decisions against the best team in the league.” I glare out at the ice and the Minnesota Vipers logo at center ice. “When ESPN does a whole segment on how I fucked up tonight, I’m putting out a statement that I was coerced into this.”
“Okay, you’re not being dramatic at all.” Lexi’s mouth twitches, and she walks toward me. “Take a breath, Mitchy. It’s going to be okay. Who cares if they win or lose?”
“I do. I don’t want them to fall out of the playoff hunt the day after I call the shots. Do you know how embarrassing that would be? I couldn’t show my face in a barn again.”
“It’s not like you’re out there hitting the puck and giving up goals, Riley. You can only do so much from on the bench. Whatever happens, happens. They need a leader, and tonight, that happens to be you. The guys respect you, it seems like the decision has been made, so you might as well have some fun with it.”
“Why do you always have to be so rational?” I grumble. “Can’t you be on my side?”
“Oh, I’m on your side. You’ll get there eventually.”
