Gage hadn’t been expecting Laurel to still have the same impact on him now as she’d had on him the day they met, but she did. They’d been legally divorced for three years, separated for eight, married for two before the separation, and they’d dated for two years before that. The last fifteen years of his life had been defined by her, even after they’d separated. He’d never stopped loving her and had never stopped trying to win her back. Even after she’d told him she would never trust him again, would never forgive him, would never love him as much as she had initially.
The last part of that, at least, had to be a lie. He would bet his life she still loved him—why else did they fall into bed together every year or so? The sex was amazing, but no sex was good enough to go back to someone you hated. She said one thing but did another, and it baffled him because he still had no earthly idea what had gone wrong. There were mistakes on both their parts, but she’d put it all on him and he’d loved her enough to take it, hoping he’d eventually win her back. He’d never given up on them, always hanging on to the hope she would someday realize they were meant to be together, but he’d finally begun to believe she’d moved on the day they’d signed the final divorce decree. Not loving her wasn’t possible, though.
Now she was here, for what might be a good amount of time, and he was racking his brain to figure out the best way to handle the coaching crisis with the team while simultaneously winning back the only woman he’d ever loved. He hadn’t considered making Laurel the head coach until he’d actually been in the process of firing the coaching staff and then the idea barreled through him like a tornado. It had been too perfect of a solution to ignore, but she’d made it clear he had a lot of work to do to convince her there could be anything personal between them again. And there were so many other things to do.
There wasn’t even time for dinner before everyone started to arrive, so he’d arranged for food to be brought in. People were usually happier if they were fed, and based on the phone calls he’d been getting all day, upper management hadn’t been happy with his spur-of-the-moment decision to fire the coaches while on a road trip.
Laurel was pacing, the only sign she was nervous since everything else about her was cool as a cucumber. She handled pressure well—he’d always admired that about her and it was part of what made her a great coach—but this wasn’t something she’d ever experienced. He wanted to comfort her, assure her everything was going to be okay, but that wasn’t realistic. He honestly had no idea how this was going to go. Technically, they could fight him and bring in a dozen other experienced coaches to fill the slots for the rest of the season. As the owner, Gage had a lot of power, but not all of it; he still had people to answer to. If he didn’t maintain control, things would be hashed out in the court of public opinion, and then he’d be fucked. He wouldn’t let that happen, though. This was far too important, in more ways than one.
“Is Chains joining us?” Laurel asked him.
He shook his head. “I figured having a bodyguard here for this might be overkill.”
“Mr. Caldwell.” Gage’s housekeeper, Wenda Carter, came to the door of the solarium, where they were holding the meeting. “Your guests have begun to arrive. Shall I bring them in?”
“Yes, Wenda, thank you.” Gage glanced at Laurel.
She met his eyes and nodded. “I’m fine,” she said, as if reading his mind. She’d always been able to do that, even as a twenty-year-old college student.
“I know you are.” He winked just as the team’s general manager came in.
Howard Darnier was short and stocky, a former minor league player who’d coached for many years before moving into a management position for the Blizzard. He knew the game and the business, was a shrewd businessman, and didn’t particularly like Gage. Gage didn’t give a shit most of the time, but tonight was just as much about Laurel as it was about the team, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to be unkind, something Darnier was known for, especially when it came to women in sports. He’d been against hiring Danielle Petrov as the team’s assistant trainer, but Gage had gotten his way and Howard had grudgingly admitted she’d been an excellent choice.
That had been the one and only time they’d agreed on much of anything, so Gage had a feeling tonight would be less than fun. A lot less. He just hadn’t wanted to scare Laurel since she usually held her own without issue.
“Gage.” Howard shook his hand and turned curiously to Laurel.
“Laurel Saunders.” Laurel held out her hand and shook the older man’s firmly.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” Howard responded, cocking his head slightly. “But I’ve certainly followed your career. It’s been impressive.”
“Thank you.” She inclined her head ever so slightly.
Howard turned to Gage, though, narrowing his eyes. “Does this mean what I think it means?” he asked bluntly.
“If you mean, did I ask Laurel to step into a coaching position,” Gage answered smoothly, “then yes, it does. We don’t have much time and Laurel was available.”
“Son, these unilateral decisions you keep making—” he began.
“I’m not your son,” Gage interrupted in a steely voice. “I’m your boss. Keep that in mind before you say anything else.”
“This is a team,” Howard didn’t miss a beat. “We’re a group, a family, and that’s something you still have to learn about this sport. This isn’t Wall Street, and it sure as hell isn’t the military.”
Gage hated when anyone brought up either of those two things, but he merely shrugged. “It’s my team and I didn’t have the luxury of taking a poll. For the next three weeks, we do things my way.”
He was spared having to say anything else as Franklin Denault, the director of Hockey Operations, and Michael Hornsby, the director of Player Personnel, joined them. Gage barely had time to introduce them before Marshall Cade, the head coach from the Blizzard’s AHL affiliate team, came in, followed by several others.
It was a full house and time to begin, so Gage cleared his throat.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” He’d been trying to think about what to say for the last couple of hours but he still didn’t have his speech planned. “There’s a buffet set out, so help yourselves to food and drinks, and once everyone is settled, we’ll begin.”
He waited until everyone was eating and talking among themselves before he spoke up again. “First, I’d like to verify that you all got the documents and images I sent to you via email today.”
Everyone nodded.
“Good.” Gage looked around. “While I know you have questions about how I did it, are there questions about why I fired those men?” He was gratified to see no one spoke up, each of them glancing around the room.
“We still need to discuss the how,” Howard said after a moment. “We’re three weeks from the end of the season and not only are we without a coaching staff, we’re in the middle of a scandal.”
“The scandal is minimal,” Gage said. “This was criminal behavior and I cut them loose. I’d prefer not to release the documents, have them arrested, or anything like that, but I will if necessary. I believe there was at least one player involved, but without blowing this thing up even bigger, the best solution is to trade anyone I think is shady in the off-season and let it be someone else’s problem. For now, we focus on saying firing the coaches was because of unbecoming behavior and let them decide how much they’re going to say. That’s what I said on the phone today and what I’ll continue to say in the coming days.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Franklin didn’t appear nearly as disturbed as Howard, his face calm as he took massive bites of lasagna.
“There’s a game in approximately twenty-four hours,” Marshall spoke up. “Is that why I’m here?”
“As a matter of fact, it is.” Gage smiled. “I’ve brought in Laurel Saunders as our head coach—I’m sure everyone here knows who she is—and I’d like you to be her assistant. There are eleven games left in the season and we have a lot of work to do. I think you and Laurel would work well together, but obviously the choice is yours.”
“Of course.” Marshall nodded immediately. “Whatever you need.”
“Is no one going to bring up the elephant in the room?” Howard demanded. “She’s his ex-wife. That’s a PR nightmare and the phone lines were already blowing up today.”
“What does my marital status have to do with anything?” Laurel spoke before Gage had a chance. “You’ve been divorced twice, Mr. Darnier. Would anyone even ask this question if I wasn’t a woman?”