Page 101 of Playmaker

And it wasn’t like I was completely disengaging from the sport. When I’d told Chloe I was retiring, she’d immediately asked if I was interested in a coaching position. I’d left her office with an offer in hand, which I’d accepted the next day. Before the ink was even dry on my retirement, I was officially the new defensive coach for the Pittsburgh Bearcats.

I was officially in love with my new job, too. Training camp had been a blast, especially working with the prospects. We had some incredible young talent on the blue line, and I was excited to be helping them develop their amazing potential. Plus we’d acquired Mercy Nelson over the summer; a generational talent for our top defensive pair? Hell, yeah. She was also a great leader, and I loved working alongside her to make the Bearcats’ defense into a force to be reckoned with.

Jamie Tucker, the terrified defender who’d been there for our Cup win, had come into her own last season. She’d been brought up a few times to fill in for injured players, and after this year’s training camp, she was firmly ensconced on the third D pair. Her lack of confidence was a distant memory now—her future definitely looked bright, as did the team’s future.

It looked pretty bright for me, too, even if it wasn’t how I’d envisioned things not too long ago.

In addition to making changes to my career, Sabrina and I had made good on our plan to start an organization outfitting kids whose families couldn’t afford hockey gear. Her brother was all over the idea, and he’d donated half a million dollars to get things off the ground. His wife—already a champ at running non-profit organizations—had offered to take the helm so Sabrina, Mark, and I could focus on hockey, and she was turning it into something amazing. Imani was making deals with everyone from stick manufacturers to corporate sponsors. Several teams, not to mention individual players and coaches, from both the WHPL and the men’s league were donating money, time, and facilities so kids had access to not only gear, but ice time and instruction from professionals.

Sabrina and her brother had vowed to make sure every kid who signed up had the equipment and training that she’d desperately wanted and he’d had since he could walk. I was determined to keep as many kids as possible from facing the uphill battle that both Sabrina and I had, for different reasons, faced in our journey to the big leagues.

With Imani working her magic, money coming in from all directions, and kids signing up in droves… I was confident we were going to pull this off for real.

And while Imani turned our dream into reality, Sabrina and I were still living our other dream. The one we hoped some of these kids would eventually live as well.

Warmups ended and the Bearcats trooped back into the locker room. Since this was the home opener, the next step was the introductions of everyone on our roster.

That started with the coaches and front office, and one by one, we stepped out to our introductions.

“Your defensive coach,” the announcer’s voice boomed, “from Bethesda, Maryland, Lila Hamilton!”

The applause and cheering made my face warm, and I waved at the crowd as I joined the other coaches behind the bench. They roared when Coach Reilly was introduced as our head coach for yet another season, not to mention Andi Carter, the newly signed power play coach and of course, Faith, our skills coach.

After us, it was the players. The announcer read through the roster, and each player skated out to salute the crowd. Then came the alternate captains, followed by:

“From Buffalo, New York, number five, your captain, Sabrina Hamilton!”

My face hurt from smiling as the roar of applause went up. I was proud of my wife—who wouldn’t be?—but there was also a little surge of triumph at the sound of her name and the sight of the letters beneath her number as she skated out to the circle.

Hamilton.

For all the hockey world had convinced itself Sabrina had ridden her father’s name to the top, she was wearingmyname now.Ourname.

The press still referred to her as Sabrina McAvoy sometimes, or they hyphenated her name, but we figured that was something that would get better with time. I did notice they were mentioning her father, brother, and ex-husband far less often in articles these days, and sometimes they didn’t mention them at all, so that was promising. Ever since Doran had opened his big mouth on social media and started shedding endorsements as aresult, everyone had been hesitant to mention him at all unless they were discussing his plummet from grace.

In fact, the last time I’d seen his name come up in an article about Sabrina had been in the one announcing that we had gotten married over the summer. There was one line indicating that Doran had not come to the wedding, and the rest was about how happy we were and how supportive our families had been as we’d celebrated our marriage. I’d been a little salty that his name had come up at all, but Sabrina had made a good point about it.

“They basically said we were all having an amazing time,” she’d noted. “But he wasn’t there. It makes him sound pathetic and alone.” With a grin, she’d added, “He probably wishes they hadn’t mentioned him either, because it just reminds him that we’re all happy without him.”

Couldn’t really argue with that, could I?

Time and therapy had done a lot to help her come to terms with cutting off her dad. It probably also didn’t hurt that she’d hit the father-in-law jackpot. I was biased, of course—I’d always known my dad was amazing—but he treated Sabrina better than Doran had ever aspired to. He texted her after games to either tell her she’d kicked ass or to her a little pep talk about how the next one would be better. He cracked her up with dad jokes, and she loved the way both my parents would goof around at family barbecues or holidays. The speech he’d given at our wedding—talking about how proud he was of both of us and how happy he was that we’d found each other—had made us both cry.

My mom adored Sabrina too, and she’d also become good friends with my mother-in-law. It wasn’t unusual at all for the camera to find my parents and Sabrina’s mom sitting together at games, especially on theme nights when they could all dress up.

If Doran wanted to be miserable, he was welcome to it—this family was doing just fine without him.

The player introductions had finished, and the team saluted the crowd. Then they skated back to the bench, and it was time to kick off the game.

I stood behind where the blue liners sat, while Sabrina would be sitting on the other end of the bench with the forwards. Right now, though, she was going to stay on the ice for the anthem and then puck drop.

Before she took her place for the anthem, she came up to the bench, took off her helmet, and grinned at me as she leaned over the boards. I recognized that sparkle in her eye, so I stepped over the bench and up close to her, and we shared a quick kiss.

“Good luck tonight,” I said.

“Thanks.” Holding my gaze, she smiled. “The name really has a nice ring to it when the announcer says it, doesn’t it?”

I laughed. “It really does.”