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Benjamin was still searching for solutions ten days later.
Late on Thursday evening, he pulled into the parking lot of a long, low building. He didn’t think he’d find any answers here, but it was better than being trapped in his silent, barely furnished apartment.
The Canyon Cats had a lull in their schedule that allowed for a three-day weekend away from the rink. While his instinct was to keep pushing as he searched for the answer that would end their dramatic slump, he reluctantly recognized that time away from the ice might be beneficial for everyone.
He knew he needed it. The tension between himself and Levi and Nechayev made his bones ache as if he had the flu. While he didn’t one-hundred percent trust that he wouldn’t be fired, Brewster’s avowal had given him the courage to try new things. The results weren’t yet reflected on the score sheet, though there were signs the team was starting to gel again. It didn’t make practices any less fraught, however.
Guilt over Lynn was another weight he carried. He hadn’t spoken to her other than brief greetings since she’d come to his office almost two weeks ago. He desperately hoped she understood his recent radio silence was necessary. He had to focus all his attention on the team. It was his reason for coming back, after all. Asking her on a date would have to wait.
Popping the trunk, he hefted out his equipment bag. He’d lived in so many places for such short periods of time that he’d stripped his personal possessions to the bare necessities. But he hadn’t gotten rid of his hockey gear. It had been an extension of him for too long, even though he hadn’t stepped on the ice as a player for years.
That was going to change tonight. He’d finally allowed Jujhar to convince him to drop into one of his recreational league games. His heart beat high in his throat at the thought of playing again.
His bag thudding against his thigh, he climbed the slick metal steps, pushed open the arena door—and stepped into his past. He’d spent many a practice in this building during his years in the Prince George Minor Hockey Association. The arched roof covered a single rink and four meagre dressing rooms. Other than a new paint job and updated posters on the community bulletin board, nothing had changed. The scent of wet rubber mats, freshly cleaned ice, and childish sweat enveloped him. The ghost of his father hovered at his side and he pushed the mirage away, not yet ready to confront it.
Memory propelled him to the second dressing room on the left. The door was propped open and he paused in the entrance. He’d worried that all the tangled emotions of his checkered hockey career would taint this experience.
Now he wished he’d come weeks before. Despite the fact he’d spent half his life in dressing rooms around the world, this cramped, rough, rather foul-smelling space felt like coming home.
Men sat on the wooden benches lining the walls, gear bags gaping at their feet, equipment scattered around them. They glanced at him but made no comment on his arrival other than a few sharp nods. His spine relaxed further.
“Well, are you going in or not?”
He turned to see Jujhar grinning behind him, teeth gleaming in his luxuriant beard. “Just waiting for you, slack-ass.”
They found seats on the far wall and began to dress.
“Glad you finally decided to come.” Jujhar pulled a tattered shirt over his bare chest and reached for his shoulder pads.
“Me, too.” He didn’t realize how much he’d missed this camaraderie. As a coach, he could guide and instruct but he couldn’t do. That was up to the players, and was a loss of control he still grappled with.
Benjamin dawdled with his skate laces until he and Jujhar were the only ones left in the room. He’d accepted this invitation for more than one reason. Yes, he couldn’t wait to get on the ice again. But he needed to say something first.
“I want to thank you.”
His words stopped Jujhar on his way to the door. “For what?”
“For welcoming me back. It’s more than I deserve.” He rose when Jujhar returned and loomed over him.
“Are you still going on about that?” Jujhar frowned. “I thought we’d cleared it all up.”
“I accused you of being jealous. Of me, of all people. A has-been NHLer.” Benjamin laughed without humour. “You saw I was unhappy and suggested I reevaluate my life, and I lashed out. I should have been grateful you cared.” That also held true for his father, who had shared the same message in their last conversation. He couldn’t tell that to Jujhar, though, not until he’d confessed to his mother.
Jujhar’s eyebrows disappeared into his helmet. “That’s bullshit. You don’t need to be grateful someone cares about you. You’re a good man, Benjamin. You deserve to be liked for you, not for what you do between the lines of a hockey rink.”
Was that possible? Could he be liked—maybe even loved—even though he’d failed as a player? Was it enough just being himself? He couldn’t stop a vision of Lynn from popping into his head. He’d put off apologizing to Jujhar for years for fear of being rejected, and look where they were now. He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Lynn. He owed her an explanation of his actions over the last several days.
“We good now?” Jujhar tapped his shinpad with his stick. “You worry too much about what other people think. We had an argument. You’ve apologized. It’s done.”
“We’re good.” He cupped his gloved hands on either side of Jujhar’s visor and banged their helmeted heads together. “Let’s get out there and show these guys who’s boss.”
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CYNTHIE STRODE TOWARD Lynn’s desk, sliding her arms into her heavy woolen coat as she approached. “I just got off the phone with Brewster. I have good news and I have bad news.”
Lynn rubbed the back of her neck. The last couple of weeks had been rife with tiny annoyances, both professionally and personally. She was looking forward to a weekend free of obligations or responsibilities and didn’t want any more trouble loaded onto her shoulders. “Can it wait until Monday? I was just heading out.”
“Me, too. Walk with me. I’ll tell you on the way.” Cynthie straightened her collar and pulled on thin leather gloves.
She sighed, locked her computer, and took her scarf and hat from a desk drawer. At the exterior door she lifted her coat from the rack and Cynthie waited while she donned her outerwear. Then they headed out in the dark winter afternoon.
“What does Brewster want now?” A bitter wind whirled across the asphalt, snow streaming from the tops of the plow piles like flags. She shivered. All she wanted to do was pick up Oscar from daycare, hole up in her warm, cozy home, and forget about everything else for a while.
“He’s hired a new marketing coordinator.”
“Finally.” That was welcome news. Juggling the Canyon Cats schedule and a toddler was wearing her down. And since Benjamin had barely talked to her since the middle of November, it would be a relief to have less opportunities to meet.
She wished for the thousandth time that she knew why he’d backed away so far and so fast. He’d asked if she’d go on a date with him—and then gone into stealth mode. Since then they’d exchanged only platitudes or silent nods, and when the team had been on a road trip there had been no friendly texts, no casual check-ins.
She’d suggested they go slow. She hadn’t meant this slow.
If he’d changed his mind, all he had to do was tell her. Her own feelings were mixed and tumbled and she didn’t have the energy for the skirmish necessary to sort out their relationship. Having him make the decision for her should have made it easier.
It hadn’t. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, about them.
“That’s the good news.” Cynthie stopped next to her sedan, its engine already purring. Lynn fished into her purse and found her keys, pressing the buttons to get her own vehicle going. She never remembered to use the remote start. “Here’s the bad. The new hire is a university student and won’t take on their duties until January.”
“For Pete’s sake.” Lynn huddled in her coat in an attempt to avoid the wind whistling over the sedan’s low roof. “Who’s training her?”
“It’s a him. Given what we know of Brewster’s plans, I offered your services, but he refused. Says he’ll take care of it.”
“Not that it matters.” Lynn felt as bitter as the wind biting at her ears. “We’re below the minimum attendance requirement as it is, so whatever I’m doing isn’t working. Maybe he’ll have better luck, no matter what Brewster wants.”
“The team is playing right into his plan, that’s for sure. And by playing, I mean losing.”
Lynn wanted to defend Benjamin and the Canyon Cats, but Cynthie was right. They were languishing at the bottom of the divisional barrel. And the longer they moldered in the cellar, the fewer fans would show. Who could blame them?
She said her goodbyes and made her way to her own car, parked a few slots down. The interior was fractionally warmer than outside and she tucked her hands under her armpits, waiting for the heater to take the worst of the chill away.
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THE ARENA’S STAFF DOOR slammed shut behind Benjamin and he strode to his car. It was only a few steps away, yet his ears burned with cold by the time he settled in the driver’s seat. He blew on his fingers to warm them. One of these days he’d have to remember to wear a hat and gloves. Though he’d grown up in Prince George, it had been a while since he’d endured a true Canadian winter. His previous coaching positions had been in much warmer climates.
There’d been no real need for him to go to the arena that afternoon. But a morning spent examining Jujhar’s words from the night before had made him restless and edgy and he’d found himself drawn to the building.
Or rather to Lynn, who was in the building. Now he’d decided to apologize for acting so remote, he wanted to get it done. He managed to stop himself from accosting her at work, locking himself in his own office, but it was about the time she normally left on non-game days and he planned to catch her as she headed home.
He drove up the road that sloped from the below ground ice level to the main parking lot. A few vehicles were scattered about, all dusted with the light, dry snow the wind tossed around. With relief he saw Lynn’s was still there, but as he watched, she pulled out of her slot and made her way to the main road.
It was his own route out, too, so he followed, trying to decide what his move should be now. She turned left, and so did he. Her brake lights brightened as she pulled to a stop at an intersection and waited for the green. He nosed in behind.
Maybe he should have called her and set up a time to meet. But he’d been too eager to see her to think things through logically, and now he was stuck following her like a spy. Or a stalker.
Could he make things any worse?
The light changed and she rolled forward. Several blocks later she signalled and turned into a church parking lot. Instead of continuing on his solitary way, he turned in with her. He’d come this far. He might as well do what he’d set out to do.
She parked in front of a sign that read “Rainbow Acres Daycare” and the lights on her vehicle went out as he pulled in on the far side. He climbed out of his car to find Lynn staring at him across the roof of her own.
“Why are you following me?” she demanded.
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LYNN HAD NOTICED BENJAMIN behind her at the first intersection when she’d stopped for the red light. She’d happened to be checking her rear-view mirror when the beams of a vehicle heading the opposite direction had flashed across his face. She’d only needed that tiny glimpse to recognize him.
She’d had no reason to assume he was deliberately following her—after all, they were travelling on one of the main arteries that ran through the entire city. Until he’d turned into the church parking lot behind her.
His smile was hesitant. “I wanted to talk with you.”
She slapped the roof of her car, the report echoing through the empty dark. “After saying nothing more than hello for two weeks?”
“I’m sorry about that.” He shut his door, rounded the trunk of her car, and stopped beside her. “That’s what I wanted to say. I’m sorry for shutting you out. I was concentrating on the team, but that’s no excuse.”
"No, it’s not. All you had to do was say, ‘Lynn, I need to focus on my job. I don’t have time for you anymore.’” She got it. She really did. But she loathed the feeling of coming second to someone’s career again.
An SUV pulled into the lot, the headlights sweeping across Benjamin like the slash of a knife. “I hate I made you feel that way. That wasn’t my intention.”
"Well, it’s what happened.”
The father of one of Oscar’s daycare mates stepped out of the SUV. He glanced at them curiously but, at Lynn’s nod and smile, continued past with a wave.
Benjamin waited until the door had closed behind him. “Please, Lynn. I promise to never shut you out again. And if there are reasons I can’t be there for you, I’ll tell you why.” He took a short step closer. “I thought about you. A lot.”
“You did, did you?” They were only inches apart. The chill of the winter night vanished as if he’d wrapped her in a blanket. She lifted her chin to meet his eyes.
He nodded. “I know I’m not who you’re looking for. I have baggage, more than you can guess. I have a career on the edge, one that also takes me out of town for lengthy periods of time on a regular basis.”
“I know.” He’d said nothing she hadn’t told herself before. Her head knew all the reasons why they shouldn’t pursue anything further. It was her heart that wouldn’t listen to logic.
“I apologize again for not asking sooner. But would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” His expression in the glow of the church sign was a mixture of hope and hesitancy.
Her pulse pounded in her throat, making it difficult to breathe evenly. She’d had time to think during the echoing silence of the last two weeks, and despite his obviously sincere apology, she couldn’t risk being rejected again. Keeping far away from Benjamin was the best thing to do, for herself, for Oscar. For her heart.
She made one last, pathetic attempt to be responsible, to stick with that plan. “You said it yourself. We’re not a good match, and I’m not looking for another one-night stand. I’m looking for a father for Oscar, a husband I can rely on.”
His shoulders sank. “I understand.” He stepped back.
A weight squeezed her chest as the memories of the stark, lonely nights of the last two weeks—and the months before that—pressed down. “But how will I know who that man is without spending time with him?”
He froze.
“Yes, Benjamin, I will have dinner with you tomorrow night.”