26. Maddox

Chapter 26

Maddox

Athletes often found themselves in the spotlight, under constant scrutiny from the media, and while that might seem oppressive and intrusive, most of us had found a way to use that attention to spark good in our communities. Players used their platforms to bring awareness to important causes, not only by writing large checks to support worthy causes but by volunteering their time and making a personal impact.

Everyone had charities that were near and dear to their hearts. Braxton often served meals at soup kitchens, feeding the homeless and those who struggled to provide hot meals for themselves. Jenner gravitated toward children's charities. He went to group homes and mentored youth without strong role models.

For me, it always came back to hockey. I was the one funding youth leagues for families who found the cost barrier to the sport I loved too high, supporting the cost of equipment and ice for entire teams. The kids and parents alike went wild when I made guest appearances at practices, but I'd stopped doing that after the injury. It wasn't that I didn't want to go; I just figured they wouldn't want me. I wasn't the Maddox Sterling they idolized anymore; instead, the one who'd lost it all, whom they pitied.

Beyond our personal endeavors, the Indianapolis Speed, as an organization, sponsored several events throughout the year for the entire team to attend and give back. Events like passing out pre-packaged Thanksgiving meals at the food bank, sponsoring the cost of winter clothing for underprivileged youth, and a Christmas trip to the Children's Hospital. Today, it was Dream Day.

Nothing was more heartwarming than making a dream come true for a kid battling a life-threatening condition or illness. Even though life had been supremely unfair to them, you never heard a word of complaint; they were always the happiest, most gracious children you'd ever meet. We might be the ones granting their wish, but at the end of the day, they always managed to give us something more important—perspective.

We might grumble about sore bodies, injuries, and the rigors of constant travel, but we had it better than most. This day served as a reminder of that fact.

I arrived at the rink early in preparation. Our public relations head, Lily, was sorting through four sets of youth gear in the locker room.

"Need some help?" I offered, stepping inside.

"Hey, Maddox." She turned to smile at me. "If you've got a minute, I could use an extra hand. Thanks."

"Sure thing." I dropped to my knees beside her.

Lily pointed to a list of names and sizes. "Everything came in one giant box, and I'm trying to make sure I get the gear right for each child."

"Seems simple enough."

I grabbed a pair of skates, checked the size, and placed it in a pile for a child named Will. The next pair belonged to Jamie, then Tyler, and Victoria. I smiled, thinking of a girl wanting to be a hockey player. It was great that the game was growing and becoming more inclusive.

"Check this out." Lily's voice drew my attention away from my methodical sorting.

Turning my head, I caught her holding up a tiny tracksuit embroidered with the Speed logo of a red racecar over the chest and the name Coach Jack.

"Isn't this the cutest thing you've ever seen?" she gushed.

I chuckled. I had to admit; it was pretty damn adorable.

"Jack is gonna be your little buddy today. How great is it that one of them wanted to be a coach?"

"Yeah." I nodded, still blown away that a child would forgo glory on the ice for a spot standing behind the bench.

That lesson in perspective is definitely needed today.

Lily stood, clapping her hands. "Everything looks great! They should be here in an hour, so I've got lots to do. Thanks for the help, Maddox."

"Anytime," I said as she bustled from the room, intent on her next task.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I headed for my office. Even though we had special guests coming, I would be running a full practice after they left and needed to prepare my practice plans.

The first lesson in coaching was that there were no days off.

The press room was packed, every reporter covering the Speed in attendance. Ten-year-old Jack stood on a platform to see over the podium as they asked him questions as if he were the head coach .

He was a cute kid. His mom had pulled me aside when they arrived to explain that Jack had cystic fibrosis, a condition that impacted his lungs. He loved hockey, but his specific case was too severe to allow him to play such a high-intensity sport. Undeterred by his diagnosis, Jack decided to study the game and become a coach one day.

I was impressed. Life had handed the little dude a rough draw, but he was upbeat, finding new ways to chase his dreams.

Standing beside him, I called each reporter by name since Jack didn't know them personally to do so himself.

When my favorite redhead was next, I smirked, keeping my eyes on her as I spoke to Jack loud enough that the entire room could hear. "Fair warning, Miss Cooper has been known to ask the toughest questions."

Her blue eyes sparkled, and a smile split her face as those gathered in the room chuckled. Our relationship was well known within the ranks of the press corps by now, but she hadn't let up on her hardball questions daily.

God, I fucking loved her.

Clearing her throat, Bristol pretended to check her notepad. "Coach Jack, would you care to share your starting lineup for tomorrow's matchup against the Atlanta Aviators?"

Jack peeked up at me, but I nodded my head toward the reporters, letting him know it was up to him to respond. His broad grin, as his eyes shone with adoration, made my heart flip.

My single days were behind me, and more and more, I wondered what it might be like to start a family—in particular, a family with Bristol. I wouldn't mind a little boy who stared at me like I was his hero or a spunky, inquisitive little girl who kept me on my toes. I knew I was moving too fast, that what we shared was too new, but I couldn't help it. Maybe it was because I was older, and many guys my age had already settled down. But Bristol was still young; we had plenty of time to discuss what we wanted out of a potential life together. As long as we were together, I didn't care about the rest.

"That's a great question, Miss Cooper." Jack kept his voice professional, and I bit back a smile. He was handling the room like a champ. "I think our standard starting lineup is solid, but there is one change I would like to make. It's a no-brainer for Goose to start in net. Our forwards will remain the same with the Knight-Slate-Lawson line, but at defense, I will be pairing Wyatt Banks with Logan Ford instead of Saint Booker."

Bristol raised an impressed eyebrow, asking in response, "Any particular reason for the shakeup at D?"

Jack nodded, unruffled by her follow-up question. "Saint Booker is a hothead." He's not wrong there. Cheap shots are his guilty pleasure. "Beyond that, Ford might not be the best defenseman on paper, but if you look at his overall game, he's the strongest player we've got."

"Thanks, Coach." Bristol flashed him a bright smile as we called on the next reporter.

"All right, bud, what kind of drills do you want to run today?" I asked Jack from where we stood behind the bench after I'd laced up his skates.

Jack was all business. "We need to work on winning the face-off and maintaining puck possession. These are professionals; I shouldn't see blind drop passes and slapping at the puck. Too often, they're just trying to survive, to clear the zone, instead of executing breakout passes. All they end up doing is giving up turnovers and getting stuck in the defensive zone for too long. "

I gaped at him. Were we sure he was only ten? That was some serious analysis. And he was spot on with his assessment.

Holding my arm out, I gestured to the ice full of players. "Well, then, Coach Jack. Put 'em to work."

On wobbly legs, he stepped onto the ice. I gripped his elbow, keeping him upright, and blew my whistle to gain my team's attention.

"Listen up!" I boomed, and all chatter stopped, eyes turning to me. "Coach Jack will be running practice. You answer to him. Understood?"

My players nodded, and the four kids in head-to-toe gear cheered. From what I heard, they'd gotten chummy this morning while signing their one-day contracts with management.

Jack squeezed his hand whistle—he was in a helmet with a cage to protect his face. "I want Jamie and Tyler at center ice!" The two boys skated forward, placing their sticks down on the Speed logo, standing opposite each other. "They will demonstrate properly winning the face-off. I expect the rest of you to pay attention. If you're not winning face-offs, especially in the defensive zone, you're giving your opponent an opportunity."

From the corner of my eye, I caught Braxton giving an appraising nod. His nephew, Beau, was about the same age, and I could imagine he saw the potential in Jack.

Truth be told, I did too.

"Say thank you to Coach Sterling," Jack's mom, Debbie, prompted.

Immediately obeying, he chirped, "Thank you, Coach Sterling!"

Tossing him a wink, I offered, "I think since we're colleagues, it's safe for you to call me Maddox."

His blue eyes grew comically large, and he nodded in a daze. "Maddox."

I ruffled his blond hair. "That's better. And you're more than welcome."

Turning to Debbie, I held out my phone. "If you want to give me your contact info, I can see about getting Jack into a few more games before the end of the season." The Dream Day participants would be viewing tomorrow night's game from a luxury box, courtesy of the Speed, but I wanted to do a little something for Jack.

Uncertain, she eyed the cell where I extended it. "Oh, you've already done enough."

Shaking it, I stood firm. "Please let me do this."

"Pleeeeeease, Mom," Jack begged, watching our exchange.

Sighing, she gave in. "Oh, all right. If you insist." Debbie typed in her phone number before handing me back the phone.

Immediately, I texted her my number. "Great. Now you have my info too. If Jack ever wants to catch up or has any more extremely valuable insight into my team he'd like to share, don't hesitate to reach out."

Placing her hand on her son's shoulder, she guided him toward the exit. "We should get going."

"Nice meeting you, Jack. Hope to see you again soon," I called after them.

Debbie turned around, gratitude in her eyes as she mouthed, Thank you , before rounding the corner out of sight.

This event always made an impact, but I had a feeling this year's would leave a lasting mark on my soul. And who knew, maybe someday I could offer Jack his start in coaching? Wouldn't that be wild?