Page 111 of Edging Coach
“Either Devs or Pells. They’re both strong left defense.” He inclined his head a little. “But I need to know who the Grizzlies can do without, possibly for a month or more.”
I quirked my lips and pretended to think about it. I couldn’t lie—I was a little irritated that Emil was giving me this song and dance. Pretending I had some kind of influence over this decision when I knew damn well he was already planning to send up Devon. He just didn’t know that I knew. Because he had no reason to believe Devon and I were communicating, never mind traveling together.
Traveling back from a place we’d had no business going.
I squirmed in my chair, trying and failing to ignore all the aches and twinges from the last week. In a way, I supposed his move took pressure off me. He’d already made up his mind, and really—as strong as Pells was, he had nothing on Devon. The decision was a no-brainer. Even with my judgment so clouded where Devon was concerned, it was impossible not to see who was objectively the better player.
And selfishly—as a coach even more than a boyfriend—I wanted to keep Devon in Abbotsford. We were finally starting to turn this sinking ship around, and losing him would be a serious blow. Any coach in his right mind would want to hold on to a player like him with all his might.
But as a former player myself, as a coach, and as someonewho cared so deeply for Devon, I also couldn’t even consider keeping a rising star down.
I took a deep breath and met my boss’s gaze. “Pells is good. He’s really good.” I swallowed. “I’m confident he can hold down the blue line while Devs is in Vancouver.”
Emil’s shoulders loosened a little, as if he were relieved I wasn’t putting up a fight to keep Devon down here. “You think he’s strong enough for the number one pair?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “He’s not as good as Devs, but another season or two, he’ll get there. And we need to send our strongest blue liner to Vancouver.”
“Agreed.” He laughed dryly. “I’m always reluctant to let our best talent go up even when I know that’s the whole point.”
I chuckled. “The contradictions of managing and coaching this level, am I right? You want to develop the best talent to send up to the big league, but you also don’t want to let them go.”
“Exactly.” Emil laughed again and shook his head. “Anyhow. I had a feeling we’d be on the same page about this. I’ll reach out to Devs. I’m sure Pells will be happy to get some first pair minutes.”
“Oh, he will. Definitely.”
Emil dismissed me. Downstairs, I stepped into my own office and dropped into my chair. I needed to go home, get some dinner, do some laundry—but first I needed a few minutes to get my stupid head together.
I’d heard other farm team coaches talk about that contradiction. Where the whole point was to get players ready for the major league, but when one was really shining enough to warrant that call-up, it was tough to let them go. Farm team or not, we were still competitive, and it stung to lose the players that were making a team win.
Such was the challenge—keeping the team going after the stars were called up.
I’d known all of that when I’d taken this job. I just hadn’t banked on being personally entwined with one of those players. In being both selfishly driven to keep him close to me, and eager to send him up to where he could truly shine.
I stared up at my office ceiling.
Devon and I were done. This week had been all about getting it out of our systems, and about me submitting to him so I knew what I needed from my next Dom. Our personal involvement ended the moment we left the cabin. Though we’d danced around the subject, and neither of us had come right out and said it since we’d come to Tofino, we’d known that was what this week was about.
And if I’d had any doubt left that we were on the same page about where we went from here, they’d evaporated this morning. Neither of us had spoken much over breakfast. There was very little eye contact, and when I did chance a look at him, his eyes were red. Mine probably were too. I suspected he’d taken advantage of our separate showers the same way I had.
It wasn’t like we wouldn’t see each other again for a long time. In under twenty-four hours, we’d be on the same ice.
But this week—everything we’d done and everything we’d been—ended now.
It had probably ended last night, if I was honest. We’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, and woken up on opposite sides of the bed. That happened sometimes—cuddling all night could get way too hot—but it felt symbolic this morning. Meaningful.
Painful.
On the ferry, we’d had lunch and talked like two friends who’d bumped into each other. If anyone saw us, they’d have thought we were just that.
But every time we made eye contact, I saw it. I felt it. We were over, and his eyes told me it hurt him just as much as it did me.
The fact was, I needed Devon in ways I’d never needed someone before. More than that, though, and especially after my meeting with Emil, I was afraid of what being with me would do to his career. Even if we really had closed the book on being together—whether that meant hooking up now and then or more—we still had to coexist on the team. Unless this call-up earned him a permanent place on Vancouver’s roster, he’d be back in Abbotsford before the end of the season.
And deep down, I was afraid someone would catch on. I’d let my gaze linger on Devon too long. Let my emotions slip into my face and give myself away.
More than that, I was afraid those emotions would kill my objectivity about him as a player. The next time Vancouver needed a defenseman, I might be overeager to send him up just to put some space between us instead of considering whether he should go up. Or I might want to selfishly hold him back; I wouldn’t, but the temptation would be there.
Worse, if anyone ever found out about us, it would cast a shadow of doubt over his career. Did he get sent up to Vancouver because he was the best on the roster? Or because the coach pushed for it for non-hockey-related reasons?
