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As she crossed tasks off her list that morning, curiosity over how the five-a.m. skate had gone ate at Lynn. She’d peeked at the rink when she’d arrived, but the smooth, unmarked ice told her nothing, since it would have been Zambonied as soon as the practice was over. If it had occurred at all.
Despite her conundrum over the sexual side of their relationship, Benjamin was still her friend. He wouldn’t be shocked if she asked him how the morning had gone. Besides, it would be best to get their first meeting after the events of last night over and done with, and inquiring about the practice gave her an excellent excuse. At the start of her lunch break, she wandered down to his office. If he was there, great. If not, no biggie. She’d see him some other time.
She neared the door, her heart tripping in her throat, belying her nonchalant inner monologue. As her hand stretched out for the handle, it swung away. Startled, she shuffled back as a red-faced Levi Ghostkeeper stormed past, the brief glance he shot her fierce and bitter. Eyebrows raised, she peered into the small, square room. Benjamin sat behind his desk, his two other assistant coaches ranged along the wall to her right. All three of them were frozen in place, staring toward her.
Apparently, now was not a good time. “I’ll come back later.” She reached for the handle again.
Benjamin blinked. “No. It’s okay. Just give me a minute to wrap things up.”
“Really, it’s not important.” She retreated further, pulling the door almost closed.
The assistant coaches shifted out of their statue-like stances, their gazes swinging from Benjamin to Lynn and back again. Like Levi, Lynn had met Ryan Rossi several times over the years he’d worked for the Canyon Cats, but she’d only ever seen Avril Mailloux in passing. She’d been on maternity leave when the other woman was hired and there’d been no reason to seek her out since her return.
“Lynn. Wait. Please.”
She hesitated, and then widened the opening. Behind Benjamin’s calm expression something fluttered. Something wounded and desperate. She wondered if the assistant coaches saw it, too. “Okay. I’ll be right outside.”
She shut the door with a quiet click and leaned against the concrete wall. Light from the soaring ceiling of the arena filtered down through the bleachers. A figure skating club was on the rink, the voices of athletes and coaches thin and distant, the sound of blades cutting ice crisp and clean.
A couple minutes later, Ryan and Avril exited the office and headed in the same direction Levi had gone. Avril offered a polite smile as she passed, but Ryan didn’t give her a glance, his spine stiff and defiant.
Whatever had happened in the coaches’ meeting was none of her business. Still, the obvious tension caused her unease. Benjamin had enough on his plate without dissension among his staff, too.
She stepped through the doorway and stood quietly, her hands resting on the back of the visitor’s chair. Benjamin’s elbows were on his desk and the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. His chest rose and fell in several deep breaths before he dropped his fists.
His smile was self-deprecating. “It’s good to see a friendly face.”
She resisted the urge to circle behind and rub his shoulders. “Tough day at the office?”
“Nothing that hasn’t been coming for a while now.” He leaned his head against the high back of his chair and swivelled back and forth in short jerks. “What can I do for you?”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” She dragged her nails over the fabric of the chair in a nervous gesture but stopped when it made a rough tearing sound. “I was just curious as to how this morning’s skate went. Maybe you’d rather not discuss it.”
“It’s not a secret. The players I expected to show, did. The ones I needed to show, didn’t.” He shrugged without lifting his head. “I’ll figure it out.”
The urge to bring a smile to his face swamped her. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I had a good time last night.”
If anything, the frown lines that had creased his forehead since she’d entered deepened. “About that—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say you regret it.”
His expression darkened further. “I wasn’t. I don’t. But I do think we need to talk about it.”
“I didn’t mean to be quite so...over the top. It’s just...it’s been a while. Since I was with someone.” The office was tiny but the space between them yawned wide as a canyon. She had to bridge it. “Since you, in fact.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Really?”
She tilted her head. “I started investigating the in vitro process the next day and I certainly wasn’t going to have casual sex while I was trying to get pregnant.”
“Well.” Amusement lifted the corners of his mouth and her heart warmed. She’d achieved her goal. “I’m glad to be of service. Both times.”
Hmm. She didn’t like how that sounded. “I wasn’t using you. Our first night was mutually enjoyable, wasn’t it? And last night...well, I offered to”—she waved a hand in his direction—“take care of things.”
He rose and rounded his desk to stand at her side. “I’m sorry. I was teasing.” He tapped his fingertip on her chin. “Yes, our first night was more than mutually enjoyable. And I enjoyed myself, last night, too. I enjoyed getting to know Oscar better and meeting Stephanie. And I enjoyed how it ended. Giving can be as satisfying as receiving, you know.”
Was it her imagination or had the air between them heated, surging with electric pulses?
“Do you ever...” Benjamin paused, started again. “Would you consider having dinner with me? As in a date, and a real one?”
Lynn’s palms went damp. So much for her rational decision to avoid anything more deeply personal. She craved more time with him. Even knowing it could end tomorrow, she craved. “I would.” Her rapid pulse made her slightly dizzy.
“Good. Good.”
She waited for him to say more, but he remained silent. Deflated, she turned to go. “All right then. I should get back to work.”
Benjamin stopped her with a brush of his fingers on her forearm. “I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted right now. But I will ask you, Lynn. I promise.”
“That’s okay. We can take things slow. We should take things slow.” That was the mature, responsible thing to do. She was a mother, after all. She had to be careful who she brought into Oscar’s life. He might be too young to remember her relationships now, but that wouldn’t always be the case. And as much as she liked Benjamin, she couldn’t forget one very important thing.
Someday his career would take him away from Prince George, away from her and Oscar. He didn’t fit into the life she’d designed after Lance had left. As fun as it might be to colour outside the lines for a little while, she had to keep that in mind.
––––––––
PRACTICE HAD BARELY started on Monday morning when Brewster appeared in the players’ bench. He waved Benjamin over with a curt gesture.
His fingers tightened on his hockey stick as he glided to a stop by the boards. “Good morning, Peterson.”
“Benny.” Brewster’s nod skated on the edge of irritated. “We need to talk. My office in ten.” He spun away and strode out of sight.
Benjamin watched him go, his mind shuffling through the reasons Brewster might want to see him.
He would have liked to put faith in the owner’s hidden agenda. The Canyon Cats recent run of losses ensured they’d dropped well out of the playoff picture. Only the most loyal fans were attending games and Brewster should have been pleased that there were more empty than full seats, but Benjamin couldn’t quite wrap his brain around an owner who wanted his team to lose.
Behind him, Levi shouted instructions while the defence ran a drill. The disgruntled assistant coach had made no reference to their altercation a few days ago, but an air of grim satisfaction surrounded him. Given Levi’s conviction that Brewster had his back, it was entirely possible he had complained to the owner. Benjamin may have made a grave tactical error deciding not to tell his side of the story first, but he’d thought it would make him appear even more incompetent than he already did.
Then there was Nechayev. Neither he nor his two henchmen had said anything about their absence from the optional practice, but their performances in the defeat the Canyon Cats had suffered through over the weekend spoke volumes about their disdain for Benjamin’s leadership. If Brewster had noticed that dynamic, he might want to discuss that. Even if he wanted the team to fail, that didn’t mean he wanted to be accused of scuttling a top prospect’s career by saddling him with a weak coach.
He was about to be fired. It was the most likely scenario, no matter what he knew of Brewster’s schemes.
He drew in several deep breaths before he was steady enough to catch Avril’s attention. She skated over and he handed her his tablet. “Brewster needs me. Keep things on track, will you?”
“Of course.” Wrinkles formed between her eyebrows and her lips pressed together. “What’s it about?”
“I don’t know.” He’d like to believe her expression indicated concern for him, but didn’t think he’d done anything to earn such consideration during their short time together. “I’ll fill you in later.” If I still have a job was the unspoken conclusion to that sentence, and Avril knew it, too.
In his office, he unlaced his skates and slid into his street shoes, and then stood in the doorway and scanned the room. Though he’d been using it for several months, he had yet to personalize it, as if his subconscious had known it wasn’t worth the effort. His only concession had been a photo of his parents and himself on the day he’d been drafted. It served as both a reminder of what had been and a goad toward what he wanted to achieve.
An objective he would never reach. Not after today.
Benjamin squared his shoulders, shut the door, and made his way to the Canyon Cats offices. On his way he passed the arena administration. He itched to open the door and seek out Lynn, take comfort in seeing her, speaking with her, but gritted his teeth and passed on by.
He hadn’t spoken with her since his lame suggestion they go on a date. He’d had to focus on the team and any fallout from his fight with Levi, not to mention Nechayev’s power play. When he’d been at the rink, busy with game day duties, it hadn’t been difficult. But between times, during the lonely, quiet hours he’d spent in his bleak apartment, he’d had to sit on his hands to keep from calling her. She deserved better than to be used as a distraction from the mess that was his life. Once he had that sorted out...
Yeah, right.
Inside the team’s suite, Brewster’s door stood open. Benjamin halted in the opening and tapped on the frame.
The owner looked up from the slim, sleek laptop placed exactly in the centre of his desk. “Take a seat, Benny.”
If he was fired, he would insist Brewster call him by his preferred name. He should have said something the first time he had used the distasteful nickname, but he hadn’t wanted to make a fuss.
He never wanted to make a fuss. It was exhausting, constantly placating and accommodating everyone, and he was tired of it in more ways than one.
In the armless chair on his side of Brewster’s desk, he kept his posture straight and his chin lifted. No need to look as cowed as he felt.
“Levi called me Saturday. Bent my ear for a considerable amount of time.” Brewster didn’t need a power pose to appear confident. He slouched back in his leather executive’s chair and narrowed his gaze. “I understand you threatened to fire him.”
“Not in those exact words.” Benjamin knew he’d been right to chastise Levi and that gave him enough courage to speak with conviction. “He’s disapproved of me since day one, and I can handle that. But the coaching staff has to work together. He needs to be respectful of Avril and Ryan.”
“I don’t like getting dragged into personnel issues.” Brewster scowled. “I expect you to deal with these things without bothering me.”
“I wasn’t the one that bothered you.” Benjamin stared, stung at the injustice. “I was dealing with it.”
“You’re not dealing with it if a member of your team comes to me with a complaint.”
There was enough truth in that to stopper Benjamin’s next defensive comment. He swallowed and regrouped. “What would you like me to do?”
“Tell Levi that I have no intention of making any changes to the coaching staff. Tell him you have my full support and he’ll have to figure out a way to work with you. Then leave me out of it. I don’t want to hear more about your little tiffs.”
He wasn’t fired. The office spun dizzily for a moment or two. Even the knowledge Levi would continue to make life difficult—maybe even become more actively combative—couldn’t dim his relief.
He still had a chance to make good on his vow. Still had a chance to prove he was a good coach, could get the best out of his players, his staff. Still had a chance to make amends for the failures of the past with glorious success in the future.
Several minutes later he was back on the ice. It was only then that a further revelation hit.
Brewster had confirmed he had no intention of making coaching changes, with the implication that his decision was solid, unchangeable.
Benjamin was safe. He could do his job with no fear of reprisals. If his actions didn’t improve the team, that was what Brewster wanted. If the team did improve, well—what excuse could Brewster use to fire a winning coach?
He had been given a get-out-of-jail-free card. Now he just had to figure out what to do with it.