Page 64 of Coach Sully
There’s a lot of misogyny in women’s hockey—that’s already been established, especially when you look at salary caps, sponsorship deals, and physical game play. I would not be surprised if a few fights break out this year. I wouldn’t be surprised if some include my players. These women are tough as nails, they play hard, and they have just as much aggression as their male counterparts—if anything, they have more since the option to throw a punch is taken away from them. I certainly anticipate our left defense, Joey Breck, in the penalty box a couple times.
Had I walked past this clothing display before coaching the Rogues or having a baby on the way, would I have even picked up on the inequity between the PWHL and NHL? There are so many things hardwired in my brain since playing in the NHL. Our female players have to put up with way more shit than we ever did. For example, the comments during the player draft about Makkonen’s appearance. It makes me respect Whit Moreau more for putting that shit to bed on the spot.
It’s late when I finally get out of the arena. I spent a couple hours in the gym training center. The only exercise I did over the weekend was in Kendra’s bed, so I was overdue for a workout. By the time I get to my truck, it’s almost seven. I use the time on my drive home to return Barrett’s call since I ignored it when it came through during my treadmill run. I haven’t spoken with him since last Friday before I ambushed Kendra at her house.
“HeyDad,” he drawls.
I chuckle. “I take it you heard the news.”
He laughs. “Raleigh can’t keep secrets from me. When I found out is when I told you to go find her. She would have killed me if I came out and said it, and to be fair, it wasn’t my news to tell.” That’s fair. “From what I hear from my wife, things went well this weekend?”
It’s impossible to keep the smile off my face. “Yeah. It went well.”
“Does this mean you’re quitting the show?”
The smile falls from my face. “Unfortunately, no. But we’re going to keep everything under wraps until my contract is up. I’ll still have to do the dating shit, but it’s going to be performative, and I made sure Kendra knows that. Not ideal, but that’s all she’s giving me right now, so I’ll take it.”
“Hope all that passes quickly. Raleigh really likes Kendra, they seem to get along, which is pretty fucking convenient for us.” He clucks through the speaker in my truck. “Hey, speaking of, Raleigh wants to go to Florida for Christmas so we can spend some time with my mom while she snowbirds down there. She suggested you and Kendra come along, what do you think?”
“Spend the holidays together?”
“I mean, we’ll be doing the Conway thing, which you’re welcome to join. I’m thinking I’ll rent a boat so we can cruise around. You know how my mom is, she can be a littlemuch. Figured we could rent a few houses on the beach, and y’all could get your own place.” He singsongs the last part.
My grin spreads ear to ear. I love the sound of that—and love that our girls are becoming close friends. The thought of being out of town with Kendra over Christmas, where we don’t have to hide from cameras, sounds like a dream come true. It would also be a good time to have contractors work at the house without raising suspicion. However, spending the holidays together is a big step, then again, so is raising a baby. I’m not sure how she will feel about it. I’m coming on strong, but after not having her for months, I don’t want to waste a second. I don’t want her to be alone on Christmas—and truthfully, I don’t want to be alone on Christmas either. Since my brother married, he has been spending the holidays with his wife’s side of the family.
“That sounds great. Let me talk to her about it.”
Absentmindedly, I pass by the studio we’ve been filming at. I do a double-take when I see Kendra’s car is still there. Why is she working so late?
“Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll get back to you about holiday plans later this week. Tell Ral and the kids I say hi.”
“You bet. Take it easy.”
I end the call, pull off the boulevard, and park next to her car.
Istand at the opening of her office and observe for a little while. Her eyes are fixed on the screen in front of her as she bites into what appears to be a tough, stale green-apple licorice whip. Damn, she’s beautiful when she’s disheveled and has her hair piled on top of her head like that. I can picture her in my house, like she is now, working late from home. From our bed. The image is clear as day. I can see our future together as if it’s already happened.
The licorice hangs out of the side of her mouth, and I step over the threshold.
“You’re here late,” I say.
She jumps back and clutches her chest. “Jesus Christ! Don’t scare me like that!” She looks up toward the ceiling as she catches her breath. “I could say the same about you. What are you doing here?”
I grin and turn to shut the door, quietly locking it. I’m pleased the blinds are already closed on the windows. “Saw your car and decided to check in on you. What are you working on?”
“Going through footage… I saw your date on Friday.”
I raise my eyebrows as I recall the dinner conversation. “Yikes.”
“My grandma used to say some people couldn’t pour water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel… She’s hot, though, so people will forgive her for it.”
“How hot can you be with a room temperature IQ?” I ask.
She tries to hide her smile. “They don’t cover geography in contestant interviews. Though, if they did, I’m sure Jeremy would have been feeding you lines to quiz her.”
“Damn, that’s low.”
She shrugs. “That’s television… it’s got an ugly side, that’s for sure. I don’t enjoy exploiting people. I’ve already emailed the editing department about cutting that segment, though I highly doubt they will… God…Alaska? Really?”