Chapter Twenty-One
COACH WOOD
“You have to play Posey,” my assistant coach, Sterling, says.
I move my hand over my jaw. “Put him on second string.”
Sterling shifts in his seat. “Will, I understand you’re upset—”
“Upset? He was fucking my daughter,” I say through clenched teeth. “In the locker room where anyone could have seen.”
“Yes, a mistake for sure, but you’ll only punish the team, our record, and chance at the Cup if you take him out. Like it or not, we need him.”
I feel like punching a wall because I know he’s right. Unfortunately for me, Posey is one of the best defensemen in the league, despite what I said to him last night. We need him. Pacey needs him because he’s slowing down. It’s showing. This very well might be his last season. Hell, it should be his last season. If I take out Posey, Pacey will have a hell of a time keeping up.
“This is bullshit,” I say through clenched teeth just as there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” I shout.
The door opens and in walks Halsey Holmes. Easily one of our best drafts in Agitators history. The man is a machine on the ice—precise, sharp, and quick. He can see plays three steps ahead, and he capitalizes on that natural instinct. We’re fucking lucky to have him.
“Coach,” he says with a curt nod.
“What do you need?” I ask him.
He tosses a card on my desk, then stuffs his hands in his pockets. “That’s for you.”
I glance down at the card and back at him. “What the hell is this?”
“Read it. You’ll figure it out.”
I pick up the envelope but don’t open it. “If this is about Posey, I want nothing to do with it.”
“If you don’t read it, then your starting line wants nothing to do with you,” Halsey says, standing his ground. “Fuck with one, fuck with all.” With that, he leaves my office.
I look over at Sterling, who has the smallest, and I mean smallest, fucking smirk on his face.
“Get the fuck out,” I yell at him.
He stands and gathers his things before leaving. When the door is shut, I open the stupid envelope and read it.
Two things you need to know about Levi Posey:
When I was at my lowest, in a very dark place after losing my brother, Posey often slept on my couch just so I wasn’t alone. When I was reading in a corner, feeling so desperately alone, missing my brother, he’d sit next to me and stare into nothing. When I thought I couldn’t make it through Holden’s funeral, he held me up. Your daughter would be lucky to have a man like him.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen him in love. This is the first time he’s ever told me he was in love. And I’ll hang up my skates before I let you take that away from him.
Holmes
I stare at the letter, reading the first paragraph a few times over. I remember when Halsey lost his brother. It was devastating to the entire hockey community, but mostly to Halsey. I remember the way he focused on nothing but hockey. At the time, I considered it a wise way to channel his energy. But now . . . now that he’s out of that fog, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him play better.
Although, he can’t credit that to Posey so . . . nice fucking try.
I toss the letter in the garbage and go back to my starting lineup.
Can I bench Posey?
“Good game, Coach,”Sterling says as he heads out of the rink and down the tunnel to the locker room. “Are you going to say anything?”
“No,” I answer as I ignore the fans looking for a high five.
“Interesting, because this is the most cohesive I’ve ever seen them play. Five to one is one hell of a game, especially for a team that should have, on paper, given us a battle.”
I pause and turn toward Sterling. “Are you trying to imply something?”
He shrugs. He never backs down to my grouchiness. “Just interesting is all.” He moves faster down the hallway and into the locker room. I head straight to my office where another envelope waits for me.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as I take a seat and open it up.
I will deny this until the day I fucking die, but the reason I’m a happy motherfucker with the girl of my dreams has a lot to do with Posey. He might pretend he’s indifferent when helping, and he might offer terrible advice at times, but that advice always seems to turn into something worth listening to. If you think Posey is the worst thing for your daughter, you couldn’t be more wrong. He’ll treat her well. He’ll support her how she needs. And most importantly, he’ll give her the love she deserves. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the way he talks about her. How he’s so fucking proud of her.
Trust me when I say, if you fuck with him, if you fuck with them, you’re fucking with all of us. She’s part of the family now, and we won’t go down without a fight.
Silas
I crumple up the letter and toss it into the trash can.
Fucking annoyed.
Really fucking annoyed.
A note from Holmes, sure. But a note from one of the biggest assholes on the team? Is Posey paying them to do this?
Either way, makes no difference.
Over my dead body will I be okay with Posey dating my daughter.
“Coach Wood,”someone calls when I’m a few feet away from my car.
I turn to find Eli and OC standing behind me.
“Jesus fuck,” I say as I grip my head. “If this has to do with Posey, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”
“That’s fair,” OC says. He’s been a huge addition to the team since we lost Rivers, but seeing that he’s on the Posey train makes me rethink that decision. “But you’re going to listen.”
The fuck?
Where does he get off talking to me like that?
Eli Hornsby, the prettiest motherfucker on the team, steps up and says, “Posey is one of the main reasons I put my skates back on after losing Holden Holmes.” He wets his lips and continues, “I never said this, but I was ready to quit after I found out about his death. I was there that night, and I didn’t stop him from drinking too much or from driving under the influence. I blamed myself, endlessly. It was fucking torture. And every time I stepped out on the ice, I kept thinking about how he should be out here too. I was done, but Posey . . . he stood by me. He knew I didn’t want to talk, so instead, he made me laugh. He joked about the good times we had with Holden. He joked about anything and everything. He even made me fucking bologna sandwiches. He pulled every trick out of his back pocket to make things easier . . . a little less painful. I know he’s done the same for your daughter.”
My brow turns into a scowl at the mention of Wylie.
“I haven’t known him as long as the other guys,” OC says, “but I will say this. I’ve never seen a more loyal friend. He cares about each one of the players on the team, he offers them help, even if it means helping a friend pick up breakfast because they’re running late. You might see him as the playboy you’ve had to help out of some disagreeable situations, but that’s not what defines him. What defines him is the loyalty he carries in his heart, the loyalty he’s already shown your daughter. He loves her, simple as that. And he’ll give up everything just to make her happy.”