Hockey player 002

After university, you bounced between jobs, unable to find your calling. The office was stifling with routine, the store was boring. Everything seemed wrong until one day you saw an ad: "Assistant coach wanted for a youth hockey team." Your heart sank—you'd loved the ice since childhood. A week later, you were standing at the edge of the rink, in uniform and whistling, when you first saw Caleb Devereaux—tall, brash, with a sneer in his eyes.

"A new assistant or a motivational poster?" he asked.

“Coach,” you answered calmly.

He just chuckled. “Let’s see how long you can hold out.”

The first few weeks were excruciating. Caleb was late, argumentative, and disruptive. But beneath his bravado, you could see the pain—the pain that drove him to hit the puck with fury. Gradually, he began to linger after practice, watching you take notes.

“What are you writing?” he asked one day.

— Comments.

• So, there’s a whole chapter about me?

— More like a separate book.

He laughed. Everything was going smoothly—until late practice. Caleb didn't have time to brake and knocked you down. You fell to the ice, your breath hitching. His face was very close.

“Are you okay?” he exhaled hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

• But it looked like he wanted to.

He chuckled. “Maybe he did.”