Sin Bin (D.C. Stars, #5) — Chapter no 10

TEN

BRODY

I’M A FUCKING WRECK.

I check the clock every five minutes throughout the morning. I sweat through my T-shirt and have to change after a meeting with my coaching staff. I can’t stop pacing around my office, and when Lexi pops her head in at ten minutes to noon, she smirks.

“Why are you ruining the carpet?” she asks, a clipboard tucked under

her arm.

“I’m not doing anything to the carpet.”

“Not yet. But if you keep walking in circles, you’re going to put a hole in the brand-new flooring the arena operations team spent all summer working on.”

“Maybe the carpet is the problem,” I grunt. “Did you need something?”

“You’re in a mood. What pissed you off today?”

“The sun came up.”

“Hopefully this helps.” Lexi smiles and walks into my office, setting a stack of papers on my desk. “Riley’s monthly injury update. He’s cleared to start practicing with our AHL affiliate.”

I stop in my tracks and stare at her. She’s been working with him relentlessly since his accident last summer. She’s learned every component of his prosthetic leg. Put him through intense physical therapy exercises and

has him skating again.

She fell in love with him too.

Almost everyone on this team has found a significant other. Four years ago, I wouldn’t have believed that was possible, but I’m glad for it. It makes my job easier. The press wants to hear about our game play these days, not what supermodel someone is sleeping with.

Even Liam, our resident asshole, isn’t as grumpy and bent out of shape as he used to be. Last week he did an interview with ESPN after a shutout and didn’t drop a single curse word during the conversation. I was shocked.

Riley’s rehab has been the most important item on my agenda, and I see the effort he’s putting in. I know how much time Lexi has dedicated to individualized therapy and research on athletes with prosthetics. I hear them leaving the training room long after the other guys have gone home, and it’s evident why she’s one of the best athletic trainers in the league. She gives a shit, and it’s a huge part of why he’s been able to get to this point.

“Are you serious?” I grab the top paper off the stack, reading through it.

The words cleared and vigorous physical activity pop out at me, and I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit, Armstrong. You did it.”

“Riley did it, but it was a collaborative effort. I hope this is the start of a new era in professional hockey. One that’s inclusive to all athletes, no matter what their bodies might look like.” She turns her head at the knock on the door and offers a smile to Darcy, the team’s intern. “Hey, Darce.

Who is the pizza for?”

“Coach.” She hands the cardboard box my way. “It just got here, and it’s very hot.”

“Since when do you order pizza to the arena?” Lexi asks.

“I have an afternoon meeting, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to last,” I explain. “I wanted to make sure the person joining me has a chance to eat.”

“A meeting, huh?” Lexi grins. “That’s very accommodating of you.”

“Out, Armstrong,” I bark, ignoring the girls’ laughter when I shut the door behind them.

I stare at the box, positive this is way too fucking much. Asking Hannah to come here is a business meeting. We’re not two friends catching up—I ruined any chance of that being a possibility—and I’m tempted to hand off the food to the custodial crew cleaning up the locker room down the hall.

There’s no time to stew over it though, because there’s another knock and the turn of the doorknob. I blink and Hannah is standing in front of me

wearing dark jeans, white sneakers, and a sweater that slips off her right shoulder.

Sixteen months without seeing her, and the first glance has me forgetting where the fuck I am.

“Brody.” Her voice is smooth. Rich with a touch of heat. It’s just like the whiskey we drank at her house, and I have to blink again to stop my vision from turning fuzzy. “Sorry I’m a few minutes early. If you’re busy, I can wait out in the hall.” Her attention flicks to the pizza I’m still holding.

“Or if you want to finish your lunch.”

“No. Come in.” I gesture her inside, making sure to give her a wide berth. She closes the door behind her. “It’s pizza.”

“I’d be concerned if it wasn’t. It is pizza-shaped.”

“I ordered it in case you were hungry.” The tips of my ears burn. “Since it’s lunchtime.”

Hannah lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t miss a beat. “Let me guess. Boring cheese?”

“Only half of it. The other half has pineapple and ham. Extra pineapple, in fact.” I set the box on my desk and grab a stack of napkins from one of the drawers. “Rumor is it’s not half bad.”

She snorts and sits in the chair across from me. I hand her one of the slices, careful not to brush her fingers with mine when I pass over the pizza.

“I—”

“Tell—”

We talk at the same time, and I almost choke on my bite of food. She tips her head to the side, assessing me while I pound my chest and swallow.

“Go ahead,” I rasp, wondering why the fuck I don’t have any water in here.

“It’s your office.” Hannah motions to the jerseys in frames hanging from the walls. “You first.”

“I know we’re here to talk about my daughter, but I need to say something else first. About that night at your place.”

Her inhale is sharp. “We had fun. You left. I’m a big girl, and I’m not sitting around writing your name in my diary, Brody.”

“I wanted to apologize for acting like a piece of shit,” I say in a rush of words, and she pauses mid-bite. This is not how I practiced this earlier, but I roll with it. “For how I left. For the things I said. I was panicking, if we’re being honest. I had tunnel vision, which lead me to being selfish. Running

out of there was inconsiderate. Telling you to forget it ever happened was even shittier. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know I understand how my behavior was… really fucking lame. I’ve never cared what other people think about me, and I don’t know why I cared then. Deep down, maybe I thought that if I pretended that didn’t happen, the rest of the night didn’t happen too. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“You sent me flowers.” Hannah sets her pizza down on the napkin in her lap. She adjusts the sleeve of her sweater, pushing it back over her shoulder. “Right?”

“I did.” I tear off a piece of crust and pop it in my mouth, not mentioning the hours I spent researching different floral arrangements from the hospital waiting room. The websites I read until my eyes burned with tears. Until I found a bouquet I thought would maybe, maybe convey a sliver of how sorry I was. “I recognize it’s a cop out from an actual apology, but I needed you to know I was thinking about you even when my actions proved differently.”

“I appreciate the apology, Brody. We’re both mature enough to recognize there was a lot happening that night. Emotions are always magnified when intimacy is involved. I know we didn’t have sex but —”

“We may as well have,” I finish for her. A faint blush sits on her cheeks, and she gives me a nod.

“Exactly. Tensions were high. You were worried about your player. It sucked in the moment, but I’m not mad. Not anymore. That was a lifetime ago.”

“It was.” I nod. “But you can still be mad at me. For what it’s worth, I’m still mad at myself. And I’m going to work to earn your trust back.”

Hannah’s lips twitch. She leans back, getting comfortable with one leg draped over the other. “Tell me about your daughter.”

A switch in conversation. Good. This is good. Easier to process, easier to talk about.

“Olivia. She’s fourteen, and she skates every day but Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays.” I pause, wanting to ask Hannah how she’s been.

If she came to any of the games last season and if I could’ve spotted her when I glanced out in the crowd. I never let myself look. “Two hours every afternoon, except for Fridays and Sundays when she puts in four hours.” I rub my hands over my joggers and clear my throat. “You don’t have to agree to this. Spending hours skating with a teenager is—”

“I spend hours skating as it is. Adding someone else to the mix would make it more fun. Does Olivia do the short program? Pairs?”

“Short program. She has the Potomac Memorial Open on her calendar, which is in—”

“Virginia, next August. What other NQS competitions has she done?”

“NQS?”

“National Qualifying Series. Skaters with the top scores earn a qualification berth for the U.S. Figure Skating Championships. Fourteen means she’s still a junior skater, and I’m wondering what she did in previous years.” She takes a bite of her pizza. “Is the Potomac Memorial her first big event?”

“No. She’s done…” I fumble with my phone, scrolling through the photos I have of Olivia in her skating outfits. Her on the ice, head dropped back and caught mid-spin. “She did the Cranberry Open last year.”

“Good for her. I like people who are ambitious and not afraid to dream big.” She smiles and takes my phone from me, zooming in on the photo.

“She has good footwork.”

“You can tell that from a picture?”

“I’ve been doing this for twenty years, Brody. Could you tell if a guy has good footwork from a photo?”

“Yeah,” I admit, and her smile grows. “Easily.”

“Look at us. We’re two peas in a pod.” Hannah hands back my phone and finishes her pizza. “I’m more than happy to coach Olivia. It’ll be a learning curve as far as instructional foundations go, but I’m willing to put in the work to get it right.”

“I’ve been coaching for over a decade. Sometimes I still can’t get it

right.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Life is bleak, then you die.”

Her laugh is loud and bright. It’s a full-body thing, with a scrunched nose and little wrinkles around her eyes. Whatever higher power I’ve been bartering with to make sure I’m not still attracted to her really said fuck you, because even with the snort she lets out, she’s absolutely fucking beautiful.

“One way to look at it.” She chuckles again. “Since we’re on the topic of coaching, I wanted to run an idea by you.”

“Okay.” I lean forward. “What’s up?”

“Skating has lost its magic for me.” Her smile fades. Her unhappiness is a punch to the gut. “It’s a chore these days, not something I love. I met up with Grant the other night, and he threw out a suggestion I think might help me. I was wondering if you would help me approach skating in a new way.”

“I’m not following.”

“Could you coach me? Run drills with me? I want to spend less time on Axels and jumps and more time going back to the basics of skating. The Stars are consistently one of the best teams in the league. Their fundamentals are good, and that’s because you’re the one coaching them.”

“Wait a second.” I frown, confused as hell. “I don’t know shit about figure skating. That’s why I’m hiring you to work with Olivia.”

“You know everything about skating. I’ve seen your old tapes. You used to fly across the ice. Your edge work was incredible.”

“Not so much now. I’m old and slow.” I touch the collection of friendship bracelets on my wrist. I wear them all the time, liking that I have Olivia with me wherever I go. Making her happy is my biggest priority. It’s my only priority, and while I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help Hannah, I’ll do it if it means Olivia gets what she wants. “I’m not sure what kind of coaching I can give you. Between practices and traveling for games and different time zones and being a parent, my free time is extremely limited.”

“Could you do two hours a week?”

I don’t know if I have two hours anywhere in my days to add in more to my workload, but all I can hear is the plea in Hannah’s voice. The desperate weight of her gaze and how she scoots to the edge of her chair with anticipation.

Agreeing to help her doesn’t fix what happened in the past, but it’s a start. The first step of the two of us getting along, and it’s why I’m nodding.

Why I’m opening my laptop so I can look at my schedule.

“Yes,” I say, and the way she beams at me makes me feel like I won the goddamn lottery. “Two hours is doable.”

“Thank you. If nothing changes after the first couple of weeks, I’ll stop taking up so much of your time and try something else.” She claps. “Now I need to scout out a location to work with Olivia. I have a few connections, but I’m not sure what rink can get us on their calendar right away.”

“Use the Stars training facility. It’s brand new. There are women’s locker rooms, so you’ll have somewhere to put your stuff.”

“Women’s locker rooms? Do you open the rink up for public skate?”

“No. But if we ever have another woman on the team, she needs a spot where she feels comfortable getting dressed.”

“Oh.” Hannah’s face softens. “Because of Emerson Hartwell.”

“Exactly.”

“I forgot you brought her to DC. You changed her life.”

“She’s the one who proved herself in the league.”

“You’re not a fan of compliments, I see.” She tosses her used napkin in the trash can next to my desk, and I’m grateful for the shift in conversation.

“Let’s get back to Olivia. I like the schedule she’s currently on, but she’s still growing. I don’t want to put an extreme amount of strain on her muscles off the bat. As we get closer to her competitions, we’ll start slotting in more ice time. Are you comfortable with her participating in light strength training? Mainly balance drills and stability focused exercises.”

“As long as she’s not turning into a bodybuilder before she can drive, whatever strength training you have planned is fine. We have a weight room you all can utilize here. If there’s a piece of equipment you need but don’t have, ask. I’ll get it.”

“You’re a powerful man, Brody Saunders.”

“Just a dad who cares about his kid.”

“Do you have a day of the week that would work for when you and I meet up?”

“It’s going to have to be flexible. Since you’ll be with Olivia in the afternoons, what about an hour and a half after the short practices we have before home games?” I tap my keyboard. “If you start with Livvy next week, I could do Tuesday or Friday morning. Thursday we’re in New York.” I glance over at Hannah, confused when I find her gaping at me. I touch my cheek, worried I have pizza sauce all over my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She smiles and shakes her head. “This is the most I’ve ever heard you talk outside the bedroom, and I’m processing it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I grumble, trying not to blush. The bedroom.

Where all I did was run my fucking mouth and told her how perfect she is.

“This is an anomaly.”

“We’re going to have a blast.” Hannah’s smile morphs to a grin.

“Tuesday is perfect. I really appreciate it, Brody. And if we could go back to what we were talking about earlier? That night in June?”

I pull at my collar. “What about it?”

“That night is in the past. Yes, there was attraction. Yes, we had fun. But we’re two adults who are going to be spending time together. Can we agree

to be friends without any awkwardness?”

“Friends? You want to be friends?”

“Why not? It sounds more fun than skating in silence. Look.” She pulls her phone from her pocket and holds up a text message thread. I recognize it as our conversation. “I officially removed you as an unknown number.

You’ll be henceforth saved in my phone as GC.”

“What the hell does GC mean?”

“That’s the best part. It can stand for so many things. Grant’s Coach.

Grumpy Coach. Good-looking Coach.” Hannah smirks. I get a brief glimpse at her lock screen when she clicks off her phone, noticing it’s a photo of her and Grant after we won the Stanley Cup the first time. She’s sitting on his shoulders with confetti stuck in her hair, and there’s a pang in my chest. “Just kidding on the last one. Friends don’t find their friends attractive.”

“I think being around you is going to significantly raise my blood pressure.”

“That’s just old age,” she quips, nodding once. “I’ll be at the training facility Monday afternoon, ready to get started.” Hannah swipes another slice of pizza from the box and pops to her feet. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m so excited to work with Olivia, and I can’t wait to see what she’s going to accomplish. Text me if anything changes.”

“Will do.”

She walks to the door, pausing when she gets there. “Hey, Brody?”

“Hm?” I ask, doing my best not to gawk at her legs.

“Those flowers? They were beautiful. Thanks for sending them.”

With a wave, she disappears. I stare after her, deciding this is going to be the longest season of my fucking life.