Red on the Ice

Lacey

A wave of nervous energy hits me as I push open the locker room door, the cacophony of slamming lockers and echoing voices making my stomach churn. The sweat and strain were clear on the boys’ faces after tonight’s hard-fought game, and the bitter taste of defeat is hard to swallow. I can feel the simmering anger and frustration the second I step inside; it hangs heavy in the air like a suffocating blanket.

I took over from the previous manager as he bailed out on the team. It has always been a dream of mine to own the best ice hockey team out there, but the Red Tornados have been losing more games than winning. It has come to the end of this year’s season, and we are at the bottom of the table.

“You did well out there tonight, guys,” I tell them, the words ringing with genuine pride.

Chase looks at me, then slams his locker. “We lost. Again.” He follows it up by punching his locker, then walks off.

“You played well, Chase,” I shouted after him.

Deep down, I know the guys’ skepticism of my leadership is clear. For two years, I’ve led this team, enduring constant ridicule from others who question my capabilities simply because I’m a woman; their taunts sting with each passing day. While ice hockey was a significant part of my uncle’s life, my father holds a strong and enduring hatred of the game. Every time I see him, his eyes seem to gleam with a malicious satisfaction, like he’s already counting down the seconds until my inevitable failure. “It is a man’s game and I have no place out there.”

My stubbornness is refusing to give up, fueled by the desire to show him I can succeed. My father firmly believes a woman’s role is supportive, not a leadership position.

I turn my attention to the rest of the team. They all look deflated. “Look, when the new season starts, we start fresh. We go in there and kick their asses. I’ve been thinking of changing some positions. Rome, I’ve seen you out there and I think you will make a stronger defence.”

“So, who are you swapping to the left wing, then?” He clenches his jaw.

“I want Noah to take the position of left wing.” I cross my arms, ready for a battle.

There are a lot of head shakes, and the boys grab their towels. “It won’t make a difference. We will lose anyway.” Rome mutters.

One by one, they disappear into the showers. I know they can be one of the top teams, and it hurts to see them with the bitter taste of self-doubt hanging over them all.

I leave the locker room and head back out to the rink. The Zamboni is already out there resurfacing the rink and I watch it.

“They played well.”

I turned and there he was — Rufus Shutter, the Bronco Bears’ manager, his expensive suit immaculate despite the nervous sweat beading on his forehead. With a defiant set to my shoulders, I crossed my arms, daring him to try. Was he here to brag?

“Not good enough,” I mutter, the defeat still a bitter taste in my mouth. “Why are you here, anyway?”

The grin forming on his lips says it all. “I came to watch the game, to see the new player I’m getting.”

New player? A sickening lurch in my stomach sent a wave of nausea through me. Chase’s contract is up for renewal, and the decision will probably affect the team’s performance next season. I’d been intensely focused, pushing the boys forward with all my might. If we could pull off a few more victories, maybe he’d stick around.

“I see he hasn’t told you yet.” The sick smirk is back.

“What are you offering him?” I swallow my pride. I’ve got my other players. Levi is a great center. Not as strong as Chase.

The slimy bastard towers above me. “I’m offering him to play on a winning team.” He barks out a laugh in my face. This is the last game for us this season. The Bronco Bears are heading into the Stanley Cup next. “My boy wants to see what it is going to be like to see his future team win.”

A shadow moves behind me, and I spin to find Chase standing there. He dumps his bag down at my feet. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’ve got to think of my career.”

I bite back the anger inside of me. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I stare up at him.

“I didn’t want to disappoint the team. The rest of them know now. I just told them.”

Rufus winks at me, a sly glint in his eye, and then slaps Chase heartily on the back. “Come on, son. Let’s introduce you to your new team; they’re eager to meet you.”

They stroll off, their cheerful chatter a cruel contrast to the pain of betrayal in my heart. This will not sit well with the team. I pick up the bag Chase left and take it to my car. I should go speak to the guys, but I need to go somewhere first.

I park up and walk along the row of headstones until I reach my uncle. With tears already falling, I feel like the weak woman everyone is going to think I am now I’ve lost my best player. I kneel at his grave and let the tears fall. Uncle Robert would have known what to do.

“I don’t know what to do. My team will think I’m not cut out to be their manager or coach.” And my dad will take splendid joy in seeing me fail. “Give me a sign, Uncle Robert. You were always my hero on the ice. I miss you so much.” He was the one to get me into ice hockey, and I’ve been crazy about it ever since. It is probably why my dad had a hatred towards my uncle, because I’d rather spend time with him than with my condescending father.

Uncle Robert would take me to every ice hockey game here. It is the reason why I chose this team to coach and manage. The Red Tornados were at the top a few years ago, and after several season losses, the team has slowly plummeted to rock bottom.

It is pitch black, but I don’t care. This is a safe place for me to come, no matter what time of the day or night it is. My phone lights up with missed messages, probably from the boys wondering what is going to happen now Chase has left the team. I’ll send them a group message for a meeting tomorrow.

“I’ll come visit you again soon. I love you Uncle Robert.” It is always painful leaving his grave.

I walk back to my car and once in; I sit and lean my head back, closing my eyes. Then I break down. Maybe I am not cut out to be their coach and manager?

“Don’t be stupid. You were born to do this; it’s in your blood, your very essence.” I imagine Uncle Robert’s stern face and the disappointed shake of his head as he reprimands me for such thoughts. We haven’t lost every single game, despite what it may seem.

I wipe my face and blow my nose. He is always right. I pull out my phone to send a group message out to everyone for a meeting tomorrow. As I put my phone on the holder, news pops up.

The face of Riley Conners comes up. His two-year ban is over, leaving him a pariah in the league, unwanted by any team. His history on the ice, marked by aggressive play and fiery outbursts, precedes his reputation as hot-headed and brutal.

My heart does something stupid, it flutters at the sight of him. He’s a phenomenal player, the best I’ve seen in years, with incredible skill, but his volatile temper is a major drawback. Could he be the answer we are looking for?

My phone pings back with confirmation of the team meeting tomorrow. Tonight I need to find Riley Conners and get him on my team. I head home and grab a shower before changing, then contact a few sources.

“Gotcha.”

I should have guessed that he would be in the sports bar watching the game. Damn. I’ve usually got my hair pulled up into a ponytail, but tonight I have it loose. The rowdy noise coming from the corner has me zoning in on them. In the center of it all is Riley, chugging a beer. I roll my eyes as I walk up to the group. All of them are players.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the sexiest coach on the ice.” One guy hums and flicks my hair.

I glare at him. “Don’t touch me, mate!” I accentuate the word mate.

“Ooh, someone is a sore loser.” He snipes. Then gets in my face again. He is a huge guy and pure muscle, a wall of meat on the ice. It is why he is the goalie for the Bronco Bears.

“I don’t appreciate you trying to intimidate me, buddy, so back off.” With a gentle push to his chest, I tried to move him back. I turn to face Riley; a slow, sly smirk plays on his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes. Damn, he looks sexy close up. I pull out a card and hand it to him. “If you want back out on the ice, I’m here to make you an offer.”

He takes the business card and looks at it. “And what makes you think I want to team up with a bunch of losers?”

My face is at his chest level, so I have to tip my head up. I’m not shouting at him here, so I do what I need to do. I grab his shirt and pull him down to face me.

“I know you’re desperate to get back out on the ice, Riley, and I bet nobody else is even considering you for their team. This is your chance to make a name for yourself. Oh, and Riley.” I pull him closer, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. “I want you on my team.” A wave of heat washes over me as his eyes bore into mine, and my heart pounds a heavy beat in my chest. “Be there tomorrow.” I whisper breathlessly and let him go, giving him one last glance. Then, turn and march out of there, needing to get some fresh air into my lungs.

Holy shit, what the fuck happened there? My body was crying out to pull him that bit closer and kiss him. I wanted him to pick me up and carry me out of there and… Oh, my. That can’t happen. I need him on my team. This is about winning, and he is my last chance to make it work.