Hell, she got me here, didn’t she?
Brienne blushes, and it’s a nice look on her. She waves her hands and laughs. “Okay, no more of that. I appreciate it, but time’s ticking. The only other thing I wanted to say is that we have a fresh slate, and nothing is holding us back. I’m incredibly proud that we’ve brought Cannon West on as head coach, and with such a diverse and talented roster here at camp, I don’t see that we have any barriers to prevent us from excelling in this league. In other words… the sky’s the limit, gentlemen. Let’s all aim high, okay?”
Even though she asked us not to, another round of applause breaks out and several of the men yell and whistle their enthusiasm. Brienne grins as she does one more slow turn before exiting the room. My eyes are pinned on her as she leaves, and I muse long after she’s gone about what type of woman it takes to keep all this running.
I know there’s nothing she won’t do, as she proved by coming to Red Wing to talk to me in person. While it doesn’t make me trust her as far as her ownership and leadership go, I do respect her.
Callum Derringer speaks next, introducing Cannon West. It’s a story no one in this room really needs to hear, but it’s fascinating all the same.
He’s officially the youngest coach in the league at only thirty-six. He originally played with the Toronto Blazers and was a top-scoring left-winger. You always wonder about the things that are more important than hockey, and to Cannon, it was his wife. She had late-stage breast cancer, and he left the game to spend time with her, care for her, and watch her die. When she was gone, he didn’t return to playing but rather started coaching, first in Sweden, then in the minor leagues back in the States. He was pulled up from the Titans’ own farm team, the Greenville Mudcats, and while everyone agrees it’s a risk to give him such a pivotal role on this team, I haven’t heard a single person speak against it.
I met him last night at the party, and he’s one of those people you can’t help but fucking like. I’m excited to see what he can do to help this team coalesce into winners.
When Callum calls him up, he’s greeted by a rowdy cheer, and that probably has to do with not just our excitement that he’s here but because almost everyone is giddy that the former coach, Matt Keller, is gone.
Or so we discussed last night. I was filled in on the apparent glory of Gage putting him in his place when he made a disparaging remark about Jenna, and by putting him in his place, I mean he almost strangled the guy.
Another mark in the column for Brienne, I suppose. She fired Keller on the spot for the remark, and yeah, that’s surprising. Most management, at least in my experience, sides with the coaches over the players.
It makes Brienne a continued conundrum, but one I’m not going to put too much thought into figuring out. She’s hot in a way that should be illegal, but she’s also a distraction I don’t need, not to mention she sits across an employer-employee line I can’t cross.
Well, I could, but I shouldn’t.
Coach West pumps his hands downward in the universal sign that says shut the hell up, and the room silences. One voice in the back mutters, “Remember the shit show of our first team meeting with Keller?”
No clue what that means, but I’m guessing he was an ass from day one.
Stone leans over to me, his voice low so it doesn’t carry. “The asshat tried to make us all stand up and share our touchy feelings. Called on me and asked me how I felt about being here.”
I wince. “Jesus… what a douche.”
Stone’s brother died on that plane, and I can’t imagine a dumber question anyone could ask.
“Got that right,” he replies and draws back into his chair to listen as our new coach speaks.
“When my wife died,” Cannon says, and it’s a jolt to all of us those would be his first words, “I thought my life was over.”
He pauses, lets his words hang heavy in the air. No one so much as twitches a muscle.
“She was only twenty-seven, and the cancer took her fast.”
A knot forms in my gut. I lost a wife, too, but it was to drug addiction and it wasn’t fast at all. Cannon West loved his wife through cancer, and I loved mine as long as I could through addiction. I worked harder at helping her get free of her demons than I’d ever worked at anything in my life.
When she admitted to me in therapy that she simply loved the high more than anything else, I was done. I could forgive her for not loving me more than the drugs, but I couldn’t forgive her for not loving our kids enough.
In the end, Cannon and I both lost our wives. He loved his when she died, and I hated mine in the end.
And I didn’t even hate her for the lies she told about me, which ruined my career. I hated her because of what she did to my boys.
“My world was flipped upside down, and I couldn’t see a clear path. I lost hockey—at least the part where I’d step foot on the ice again. It’s not that I couldn’t physically do it, it’s just that I didn’t want to anymore.”
The knot turns into a lead ball that drops low in my abdomen. Fuck if this doesn’t hit close to home—that’s exactly how I felt when the league abandoned me. When they chose to believe my vindictive, cheating, strung-out wife that I was betting on my own games, it destroyed my passion for play. The thought of strapping on my skates made me sick to my stomach.
Still does sometimes, but here I am. It’s my chance to give it a go and see if my career can be resurrected, if my character can be redeemed.
West continues about how he pulled himself out of his depression by turning to coaching. “Caring for my wife while she was in hospice taught me that I’m good at giving of myself. And that’s what coaching is… giving. That’s why I’m here, to give all of you every bit of wisdom—even though some say I don’t have enough at the tender age of thirty-six—to give you my energy, my strategies, my comfort when you’re down, and most importantly, to give you your best chance at success.”
I jerk when Stone starts a slow clap next to me. It echoes throughout the room for only three beats before others join in. He stands, eyes locked on West in admiration. I follow suit along with the other players.
It appears that this opening meeting is far better than the one they had with Keller in February.
♦
My legs are wobbly following our on- and off-ice tests. After the team meeting ended, we all headed to the locker room where our cubbies were like welcome beacons. They’re set in an arcing half circle rather than rows, resting on thick gray carpeting with the Titans’ logo in the center. I’d toured the facilities when I first came in February (before the infamous meeting with Brienne that pissed me off so much I turned down their offer), and I’m as impressed now as I was then. Norcross Holdings owns the arena, and they spared no expense.
We traded our street clothes for workout gear, followed by the first in a series of tests, including timed sprints, push-ups to a metronome until failure, pull-ups until failure, and bike sprints. Our results were recorded, and we were ranked against other team members, although those results aren’t made available to us.
Next, we geared up for the ice and completed another series of tests. I’m a goalie and as such, my speed and stamina are judged differently, but I still had to do the drills, including goal line to far blue line timed sprints, sprints to failure, and finally a sixteen-lap endurance test for time. I kept watch on the digital clock they set up, and I was right up there with the best of them.