Our Overtime: Ice League Book 1 (The Ice League Series)

For the first game of the season, Max gifted Smitty and I clipboards and warned us not to break them in front of the kids. His dad was our coach for u16 and 17 and he broke about a hundred each year in anger. I couldn’t help but laugh, Smitty and I were super laid back, no danger there.

Smitty took a backseat when it came to coaching. He liked hanging with the kids during practices and watching the games from the bench, but he didn’t want to make any decisions regarding the actual hockey part. This worked out well because I was finding I loved it and comfortably slid into the head coach slot.

While I was hesitant on taking the job and figured I probably wouldn’t even learn a single kid’s name through the season- I had planned on calling them by their numbers- I surprised myself by really getting into the game and even using their little nicknames that I’d picked up on at practice.

Canyon was playing center on my first line. He earned it. He’d had about five breakaways, busting through the play and skating all the way down the ice, but missed the net by a long shot each time. He was like a little energizer bunny. He zoomed around the ice, but then almost had too much energy to focus a shot at the end.

I needed to work with him on finishing business. We’d dominate the season if he could score on even a couple of his breakaways.

We won the game 5-0, and Max came up on the bench and gave us both a congratulatory slap on the back and said beers after the game were on him-as long as we went to Benny’s.

I slid onto the ice in my Nikes behind my team and tapped all the little kids gloves and shook the opposing coaches’ hands. The kids all looked at me with a gleam in their eyes, probably noticing that I’d been in the NHL just last year. All of my kids quickly lost that gleam and became rugrats at the second practice, which was better with me.

I’d gotten so into the game, that I’d completely forgotten about the locker room part.

The part where mostly dads came in and helped their kid unlace their skates and change.

I must’ve gotten used to seeing Canyon with only Jules in the locker room because it was like a punch to the gut when I saw a stranger with slicked back hair kneeling in front of Canyon.

I let Smitty do the honors of a post-game chat. So much anger and aggression was coursing through me that I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. If I spoke to the kids now I’d probably scare the shit out of them. I could see myself ripping him away from Canyon and beating the hell out of him. Instead, I just pulled my cap low and sat back silently assessing him.

I’d seen him before but I couldn’t place where.

The guy looked like he’d just walked off Wall Street rather than from the bleachers of a youth hockey game. He was all business, dressed in a suit and had a slight tan, a bit overkill for September. Honestly, he looked like a stuck-up pussy. A try-hard. He had a huge watch on his wrist, purposely worn. He wanted to show off.

I realized, I probably hadn’t seen him before, but the resemblance was ridiculous. He was a mini Henry Hurley.

I could tell he was ignoring what Smitty was saying, and he was talking to Canyon. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it wasn’t good by the look on Canyon’s dropped down head.

I was grinding my teeth so hard they could crack. I couldn’t sit there any longer watching him unlace Canyon’s skates. I silently exited the room while Smitty was still talking with the kids

I plopped down in front of Paige and ripped off my hat to give myself a head massage.

“You don’t look like a coach who just won,” Paige chided as she handed me a cup of coffee.

I glanced at her briefly before taking a sip, “thanks.”

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong or do I have to guess?”

I looked around Benny’s. The place wasn’t too busy. It was a more popular post-game dinner spot. Only old geezers, probably there to watch grandsons, dotted the booths in the mornings.

I turned back to see an expectant Paige.

“Did you see who she married?” I asked her incredulously. I couldn’t help but say it with disgust.

She raised her eyebrows at me, “So, this is about jealousy? No, I haven’t.”

The way she responded pissed me off. I had the right to be upset. Jules threw me out all those years ago for that prick?

“There’s no need to be jealous,” Paige said, almost reading my mind. “They’re divorced,” she pointed out.

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me feel a little better to hear. But it was still shit. It was like I was beat in the semi-finals, and seeing my victor lose in the final game. Cool consolation, but I still lost.

I was not looking forward to dealing with what looked like Henry Hurley part two all season. I just hoped he wouldn’t show for many of the games, which I knew in the back of my mind was wishing a shit father on Canyon… not what I’d want either. I hoped he at least pretended to be a good dad to him.

I let out a frustrated growl, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.

I knew I needed to talk to her, but I couldn’t seem to make it past two sentences before I let anger overtake me and I had to walk away. What we’d had was love. And I couldn’t get that with anyone else. Every time I’d tried with anyone else, their touch would feel awkward and unnatural and a picture of her would slam into my mind like the biggest fucking cockblock of all time.

Yeah, I’d been with other girls since her. But I hadn’t been intimate with anyone else. I couldn’t cross that line. There was sex. But no talking, no foreplay, no cuddling. I could get away with it because those girls had only cared that I was playing in the NHL.

She must not have felt the same about us and I couldn’t comprehend it. How had she moved on so easily? She’d gotten married. She took it further with someone else. They had a kid together. I guessed that was just another way she was too good for me.

Smitty arrived then and slapped me on the back so hard I almost lost my sip on the bar.

“We put together quite the team, man. You gotta work with that kid though,” he said, shaking his head.

“Which kid?”

“Jules’ kid! Didn’t you see him out there? Straight fire, then flub.”

“Why don’t you work with him, you’re just as much responsible,” I pointed out. I wanted to work with him, I just didn’t like being told I had to. “And why aren’t we calling him 77? Or Canyon?” I spat out.

“Dude, I’m better with defense.” He rolled his eyes, “And like it or not, that’s who he is. I’d call him by his last name like the rest of the kids, but I think you’d lose your shit.”

I shot him a look that could murder, “fuck you.”

I guess I knew who I’d be working with next practice… Jule’s kid. In the back of my mind, I knew I was going to help him anyway.