Something I haven’t felt in a long time, but it stems from him being an attractive man who I’ve obviously got complex feelings for, and me being a woman who is very much alone.
While it’s clear this friendship will be solid, I’m very aware that—at least on my end—I might be interested in something more. This is a shame, because I’m not confident I’m appealing to Baden. He’s so self-assured and has been like a phoenix rising from the ashes, making an incredible comeback after the trauma he endured.
I’m nothing like that. I’ve been weak and unable to push past my fears. While I don’t think I’m a charity case, because Baden’s genuinely a good man, I’m not convinced he could ever see me as more than a friend.
CHAPTER 8
Baden
I pull into the staff parking deck under the arena, which shares part of the basement level with the locker rooms and the rink itself given the sunken bowl design. I need to get my coaching hat on.
I had it firmly in place this morning when I arrived at seven a.m. It was a fast-paced morning where all the coaches met to discuss practice schedules, line assignments, and potential switches. Most importantly, Matt Keller made sure we understood his coaching philosophy. He’s big on expectations and goals, solidifying team culture and motivation tactics. These all fall squarely in line with my values, and the other coaches’ as well, but saying it and doing it are two different things. I’ll reserve judgment for now.
Before I get out of my rental, I lean back against the headrest and think about my lunch with Sophie. The time went by so fast, and I was sincerely disappointed to leave. Sure, a lot of my motivation in inviting her to lunch was to help her push past her fear-driven boundaries, but by the time I had to go, I wasn’t interested in just our bond born of shared trauma. I found her to be more charming, witty, and kind than I thought possible. She’s like the girl next door who happens to be gorgeous too.
I’m definitely thinking about her differently, and I sigh because I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all right now. I have a job to do.
I put on my coaching hat and exit the vehicle.
The rink has three levels of stadium rows rising upward and outward in a typical oblong bowl fashion. On one side, you’ll find the locker rooms and exercise facilities. On the other side are the coaches’ offices and media room to watch practice and game film. Everything is built to luxurious standards, an homage by a grateful Norcross family to a driven, hardworking team over the decades. The Titans have numerous championships to their name, and when Norcross Bank Arena was built, they were given the best of everything in appreciation.
It’s weird having an office. I want to head to the locker room on the other side of the building. I should be in there, not in an office with plush carpeting, built-in shelves, and high-end furniture.
This is going to take some getting used to.
I walk into my office and look at the blank walls and shelves. A laptop sits on the desk, provided by the organization. I guess I can bring some of my awards and put them on the shelves. A few photos, maybe.
Chuckling, I move around my desk. I know I’ll never bring a damn thing in here because I don’t care what this office looks like. My new job is going to be working with the goalies, and this place is just a spot to sit on occasion.
I glance at my watch and settle into the wheeled leather chair. Drake should be arriving in about an hour. I offered to pick him up from the airport, but he insisted on taking an Uber. I have a feeling he’s sending a clear message that he’s an island right now, and he’s not accepting anything from this team. He’s suspicious and guarded, and he has every right to be. This league was not kind to him when the Wolves blackballed him. Not one team—including the Titans—showed a lick of interest in him, despite the fact he’s an amazing goalie.
Not many are privy to what really happened with Drake. They only see what the media reports and pass judgment based on that. But Drake had my ear when the world went to shit, and I was one of the few who fully supported him. The rumor passed along the grapevine was that the Wolves’ GM had been looking at a young draft prospect who he wanted in the primary goalie slot, and he knew Drake would never accept the job as a backup. But deals were being made, and the GM was to trade a dead-weight forward on the third line in exchange for a solid backup goalie from another team.
With those ducks in a row, the GM and the team owner released Drake because of the horrible allegations his bitch of an ex-wife had made against him.
Drake and I have stayed in close contact since I left the Wolves in the expansion draft for Arizona. He was the primary goalie there, and I was the backup, but we had a tight bond. He even came to visit me in the hospital after the attack.
So when I called him yesterday after picking up the rental car but before visiting Sophie, I fully expected him to hang up on me once I made my pitch. Although we’re good friends, he’s so bitter against the league, I knew I would be the enemy in my new capacity as a coach with the Titans.
To my surprise, Drake listened, not necessarily with interest but at least with polite curiosity. He made no mention of what happened with his former team or that he’s been persona non grata with the league. I didn’t waste my breath assuring him that nobody would remember those things, because it was sure to be big news if he came on board. All that shit will be dredged up again, and we both know it.
Drake wasn’t even offended when I explained that the offer was merely an offer to join the team but that the starting goalie position would be determined via tryout between him and two other prospects. I mean, in my opinion, he’s going to get the nod because he’s that good.
But he’s also a humble guy, is coming off a year out of the league, and understands the need to prove his abilities.
The actual stumbling block to Drake considering the offer comes not from anything to do with the league but rather from the fact that he’s now raising three children on his own. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Brienne that his wife not only cheated on him but had been mired in drug addiction. Over the past year, Drake sought full legal and physical custody of his boys, and he got it. Not that it was much of a fight. He told me his ex-wife hadn’t even bothered to show up for court. She only sees the kids periodically, and he never lets them go with her. Visits have to be supervised at his home, and she often doesn’t want to do that because she’s high most of the time.
I give the guy so much credit for taking on sole parenting responsibility, not that he had much choice. But I know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his kids, and his biggest concern is traveling to away games.
Drake is not the first single dad in the league. There are a handful of them, and they employ the help of close family members, other teammates’ families, or even nannies to cover the children during game-related travel. Hell, Riggs did the same thing for his sister, Janelle, when she moved in with him. So the problem is not insurmountable; it just might not be the way Drake wants to parent his boys.
At the end of our phone conversation, Drake agreed to fly to Pittsburgh to discuss what a position on the team might look like. It wasn’t a firm commitment but rather a mild interest. His sister is going to watch the boys, and he’s doing a quick in and out. We have three hours of his time before he has to head back to the airport, so I want to make the most of it.