Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

THIERRY

“Guys?”

Gerry look ed up from where he was sitting on the bench in the locker room, unlacing his skates only to see Coach Mike walking in – followed by a blonde haired woman. She was shapely and awfully pretty, but there was something in her expression as she looked at the coach, causing him and the other guys to hesitate as they all got quiet.

“Fellas – I’d like you guys to meet Brandi,” the coach began and looked at the woman with a look that made a smile touch Gerry’s face. Aww, that’s kinda cute seeing the big guy fall for someone . “And we’re getting married.”

Say what?

“Hi-Ho-Silver is getting hitched?” Gerry yelped in excitement as a few of the guys gasped in shock. Coach rarely dated, spent a lot of time at the arena or in his office, doing press junkets and other events – but never had the man even hinted at getting married. “Do we call her Mrs. Coach? Silver-A-Doe? Get it? Eh? Silverado but Silver-A-Doe?”

“She doe sn’t have gray hair, you dork,” Giroux laughed, slapping him on the shoulder.

“I’d be nice if I were you, or you’ll be doing drills again.”

“Coach is getting married?” Boucher echoed, his grin so wide it looked like it might stick that way.

“Oh man, this is great!” Coeur shouted, pumping his fist. A ripple of chuckles spread through the locker room as they considered how it might change the man that they all admired. “Maybe he’ll be in a better mood…”

“He’s always in a half-decent mood; you’re the grump, Coeur,” Giroux volunteered easily. “You and Lafreniére. Sheesh.”

“Puh-lease… moi ?”

The banter continued, warm and easy, as a few players gave the coach playful welcome to the mysteries of married life.

“The wife is always right…” Giroux volunteered, grinning.

“Even if she’s wrong, non?” Batiste laughed, slapping the other man on the shoulder. Both Coach and his fiancée shared a look and laughed.

“Toilet seat always goes down.”

“And you are supposed to use the bread ties – not just spin the bag and lay it down.”

“Pile of shoes by the door…?”

“GONE!” Giroux and Batiste said in unison, sharing a pointed look before laughing again.

“Wow, everyone’s popping the question around here. Kind of terrifying thought, eh?” Lafreniere said in a hushed voice, nudging Gerry’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Boucher said warily, looking at him like he’d sprouted another head on his shoulders, whereas Coeur rolled his eyes before speaking.

“Well, Batiste just asked his girl to marry him. Giroux is married, and I think Thierry has the hots for…”

“DO. NOT . UTTER. HER. NAME. ALOUD,” Gerry snapped hotly, practically leaping to his feet. His eyes darted around as if Molly might materialize out of thin air. She was getting under his skin, and just last night, he woke up in a pool of sweat after having a dream about her.

“Like Beetlejuice?” Coeur began mischievously, winking at Boucher, who grinned before cackling wildly. They had come up with the nickname that seemed wildly appropriate.

Yeah, they all knew Gerry was trying his hardest not to be around the woman. He didn’t want to look at Molly, work with her, or talk to her – especially not after the last time. It was hard to hide his growing attraction to the woman.

Lafreniere leaned in close to Gerry, whispering loudly, “Molly! Molly! Molly!” and before he could berate the man for teasing him, the door to the locker room opened.

Gerry couldn’t help it – he yelped. Not because she appeared but because she was wearing that ice-blue sweater he loved so much and a pair of skin-tight jeans that hid nothing from his already vivid imagination. He tried to back away and do his usual thing by turning and running in the other direction, only to realize he was sitting on the bench.

Well, he was …

He was now sitting on the floor behind the bench, his rear on the tile while his legs were over the wooden seat, his skates on his feet dangling precariously in front of him – framing those hips.

His mouth went dry in two seconds flat.

Gerry barely noticed the riotous laughter from the guys as he stared at Molly. All that black hair, those eyes, that skin, combined with those eyes that looked like tidepools. He wanted to touch the sweater to see if it was as soft as he imagined, run his hands over the curve of her jeans, memorizing them, and…

“I heard there was a reason to celebrate,” Molly said, her voice warm and inviting as she held up a p ink box. “So, I picked up some Crumbl cookies for you guys before you hit the showers.”

“You brought cookies?” Coach Mike asked, smiling easily as he plucked two of the cookies from the box – handing one to Brandi, before he kissed the woman on the cheek. While it was sweet, Gerry’s blood was hammering in his head as he continued to stare at Molly, who was starting to look uncomfortable at his attention.

“To celebrating with friends and family,” Coach Mike began, and Brandi moved to stand next to Molly, shaking her hand. The woman paled in comparison to his Molly… and he needed to get his head back in the game.

“This was so sweet of you,” Brandi began. “I’m Brandi, and you are?”

“Beetlejuice,” Boucher mumbled, choking on laughter.

“I’m Molly. I handle the team’s physical therapy and keep them in shape—which reminds me—Thierry?”

He’d just now managed to get himself off the floor and re-take his seat while trying not to look at her again. No, she needed to wear other things, decent things, like a nun’s habit or one of those Amish dresses, something that covered her shape. He was going to have to talk to the coach again because she couldn’t be wearing pants like that – not if he wanted him to focus.

Gerry glanced up reluctantly. “Yeah?” only to see Molly standing a little closer to him, so close he could smell her perfume mixed with the sugar of the cookies that he knew he wasn’t going to be allowed to have… or they were mixed with some insane low-calorie item again. Molly held out a large cookie topped with bright orange icing.

“I saved a pumpkin one just for you. Last one they had.”

Gerry blinked, his surprise giving way to childlike delight. It had been over a month since he’d had anything sugary, and with the crunches, the crazy yoga poses, a nd as much as he hated to admit it – her expertise with the weight machines, he was starting to lose a little and getting toned.

“You got me…a Crumbl cookie? For real?”

Molly’s gaze softened as she explained, “We’re celebrating, and you’ve earned it. Today was a hard practice; you deserve a treat.”

“She’s sweet on you, man…” Coeur snickered, slapping him on the shoulder.

“No, she’s not!” Gerry huffed in disbelief, eyeing the cookie suspiciously. “Is this thing diet? Gluten-free? Made with spinach? Or maybe some kind of beet and tapioca glue? Real pumpkin, but like, organic?” He gave her a pointed stare, one eyebrow raised. “This is a joke, isn’t it?”

“It’s a ‘ real’ Crumbl cookie,” Molly said, rolling her eyes, “… and you’re welcome.”

With a final, almost exasperated look, he saw Molly set down the cookie without another word, turned, and left the room, her footsteps echoing in the hall. She looked frustrated, disgusted, and… hurt?

Had he hurt her feelings?

After all the fighting, arguing, and snarling at each other – the stupid cookie was what bothered her? She practically tried to poison him with those stupid ‘ frownies.’ Of course, he was concerned about what was in the cookie. Maybe it wasn’t a Crumbl… but a ‘ Fumbl’ or some other pretend name designed to get people to buy it.

The moment the door shut behind Molly, he felt almost sick to his stomach. What if she was actually trying to be nice? Looking around the room, he saw their faces as they stared at him, looking almost disappointed or concerned.

“You should go say ‘thank you’ to her,” Brandi encouraged with a nod toward the door as if to say ‘Go!’… and saw a few other guys nod – including Lafreniere, who gave him a thumbs-up before angling his head. What was he approving of, saying ‘thank you’? Of course, he’d say ‘thank you’ because he was raised better than that.

… Even if my actions when she’s around don’t show it, Gerry thought, silently getting to his feet. He felt almost humiliated and embarrassed for being such a jerk, but the guys were razzing him about a crush that was never going to freakin’ happen.

He worked with Molly.

She had to hate him by now— didn’t she?

Plus, it would never work out, even if she gave him the time of day. She would end up disappointed in him at some point or another – and he wasn’t sure he could deal with someone so beautiful or perfect, hovering and commenting on every single thing he did. It would eat away at the fragile confidence that he had in himself.

As Gerry walked down the hallway toward Molly’s office, the muffled clatter of something banging around made him hesitate mid-step. The sound of shuffling and objects moving grew louder, and his brow furrowed in curiosity and concern. Taking a breath, he pushed open the door. The moment was electric—both of them jumped as if caught in a charged current.

Molly slammed a desk drawer shut with startling force, her eyes snapping up to meet his in surprise. Her face was flushed, her expression guarded.

“What?” she demanded hotly, her voice thick with emotion. “Come to gloat?”

Her tone was a slap, sharp and unyielding, but Gerry didn’t flinch from the fire in her eyes. He stared at the box on her desk, clearly filled with personal effects, his chest tightening.

“What are you doing?” he asked simply, his voice even but carrying an undercurrent of disbelief.

Molly’s gaze darted away for a moment before snapping back to him, defensive and biting. “It’s none of your business. Are you looking for another kettlebell to steal? Want my stapler? How about my notes on you so you can light a bonfire, roast marshmallows, and celebrate that the witch is gone!”

Her words ricocheted off the office walls, each one a dagger that found its mark. Gerry felt them dig into his chest as he tried to absorb their weight. He’d done this. Their relentless sparring, the sharp words traded back and forth—it had pushed them to the brink. He just never thought it would be her who broke first.

“Are you quitting?” he asked, his voice dropping to a raw, quiet tone, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the moment.

“One of us is,” she muttered, her chin trembling. Her voice cracked, barely holding itself together. “I know my place, Gerry. I know what you bring to the team. If we can’t work together, then I understand. Out of the two of us, we both know I’m the one who is replaceable.”

Gerry’s stomach twisted painfully at her words. “I’m not trading,” he said quickly, his voice insistent, though the statement only seemed to wound her further. Her shoulders sagged under an invisible weight as if his words had confirmed her worst fears.

“Molly?” He stepped closer to the desk, hesitating, his hand reaching out tentatively. “Maybe we should start over. I don’t want you to quit because of me. I just… I just need you to not be so disappointed. Or make me feel like…”

Her head snapped up, her beautiful blue eyes locking onto his, wide with surprise and something deeper—an aching vulnerability he hadn’t expected.

“I’m not disappointed, Gerry,” she whispered, her voice soft yet insistent. “I’m just trying to help…”

“With my weight,” he muttered, the words heavy with resentment. He caught himself before his frustration boiled over, watching as understanding dawned in her expression.

“You think I’m…” She trailed off, taking his outstretched hand in hers. Her grip was hesitant but firm. “I’m Molly, and the biggest idiot in the world.”

The unexpected declaration pulled a surprised laugh from him. “You’re not an idiot.”

“I am if you thought I was complaining about your weight or was disappointed in you,” she murmured, her gaze intense and fervent. “Because that’s not the case. I see you with the other guys, Gerry. I noticed the way you arch your back sometimes and the heating pad you use. I thought maybe you were in pain. When someone’s as active and fit as you, it’s usually a sign that?—”

“You think I’m fit?” he interrupted, his tone incredulous as his cheeks warmed. Her own face flushed a charming pink.

“It was just a term,” she stammered, clearly flustered, but he wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

“Do you really think that?” he pressed, leaning into the moment, the teasing edge in his voice making her squirm.

Her lips parted, and she let out a nervous laugh, glancing away for a second before meeting his gaze again. “I thought maybe you didn’t know how to strengthen your core or focus on deep muscles. You’ve got the abs but?—”

“You think I have abs?” he cut in again, half-staggering at the thought of her noticing him in that way. His pulse thundered in his ears as her face turned scarlet.

“Oh gosh,” she breathed, trying to collect herself. “This is coming out all wrong.”

“No,” he said, his voice soft and warm. “I think it’s finally coming out right.”

The confession hung in the air between them like a fragile bubble, shimmering with possibilities. They stood there, holding hands in an awkward, almost comica l handshake that had morphed into something more—an anchor in uncharted waters.

The two of them stood there, holding hands in some weird imitation of a handshake, but in actuality, they were clinging to each other by a single branch of friendship as they tried to figure out what was actually happening. She looked a little embarrassed and unsure of herself – and he felt like a king, a man, a possible… boyfriend? That word exploded in his head silently with so much ferocious hope that it was staggering.

“I’m trying not to,” she whispered softly, hesitating. “But it’s kinda hard not to notice you.”

“I understand,” he began, stunned, and then chuckled with embarrassment. “I mean that I understand what you are saying – not about me – because it’s kinda hard not to notice you either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, um, wow,” she mumbled, looking shy. “I was not expecting that.”

“I certainly wasn’t expecting this conversation,” he admitted and looked at the box. “Please don’t quit… for me.”

“I’m not quitting.”

“Thank you.”

“I suppose we should stop shaking hands at some point.”

“Or we could hold hands when we went out for coffee,” he countered quietly, taking a chance at the unbelievable, realizing he was putting himself out there to get crushed or have his heart broken… but it was almost like they were actually reaching for a possible friendship, one he never imagined.

“Are you asking me out?” she whispered hopefully – and he felt his heart swell with a flutter of excitement.

“I am,” he began and cleared his throat nervously. “Would you like to go out with me sometime? We co uld get coffee and talk or…”

“Yes,” she hissed, almost tugging at his hand excitedly as her other hand came up to clasp, practically encasing his hand on both sides. Her soft palm was against his, while her other tiny hand was encapsulating the other side. She looked thrilled.

“Yeah?” he grinned and marveled at her nervous laugh.

“Yes,” she smiled, nodding. “Do you, um, when do you, ah, well…”

“Do you want to go out tonight?” he pushed, realizing that she was trying to find out when he was taking her out – and felt something weird flop in his chest at her sweet little giggle that escaped her. Man, she seemed really happy about this, and he was on cloud nine right now.

“I’d love to,” she replied, beaming at him. “I’ve just gotta go home and change or…”

“You look fine.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he said huskily and then cleared his throat as her bright eyes widened in surprise. “You look nice. You always look nice when you come to work.”

They both paused nervously like neither was sure what to say anymore yet they were still holding hands. She was staring at him like he was something new, a fascinating discovery, or a… a freak? And before that thought could take hold, she spoke. Her voice was faint, nervous, and trembling.

“I’m so happy that we’re going for coffee,” she hesitated. “This will be okay with Coach Mike? The team?”

“I think so, but we can keep it a secret for now if you want…”

That was probably a good idea, he realized. The guys would give him nine kinds of grief for dating the woman they’d affectionately dubbed ‘Beetlejuice’ because she kept popping up out of nowhere and giving subtle instru ctions on how better to focus the weight machines to get the biggest impact. He would have never imagined putting a rolled-up towel between his elbow and his ribs, but it was working, and he was up to fifteen pounds on that particular move.

“Maybe for just a little while?”

“Yeah.”

“So, um, should we meet in the parking garage? Or at the coffee shop down the street?”

“Parking garage,” he hesitated. “Stay after about ten minutes or so, and I’ll knock on your door on my way out. You can meet me out there, and I’ll drive.”

“Because it’s a date…” she smiled nervously, almost like she needed to reaffirm the idea of them building on this sudden truce between them.

“It’s a date.”

They still stood there, holding hands, and he hesitated.

“I should probably get back to the guys – and my cookie.”

“You probably should,” she nodded, her voice soft as she released his hand. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she glanced down shyly. “Enjoy your cookie.”

“Oh, I will,” he grinned, the mischief in his tone unmistakable. “Probably a little too much.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“I’ll probably enjoy that cookie – as much as I enjoy the thought of us going out this evening…” His words trailed off, and he saw the shift in her expression, the way her guarded exterior softened into something warm and hopeful. The sight made his pulse quicken, his chest tight with something he didn’t dare name yet. She was doing all sorts of things to his brain, his confidence, and his ego—tying him in knots he didn’t even mind untangling. “Maybe if things go well, I could get you to go out with me again?”

“Guess w e’ll have to see…” she teased, her smile tinged with just enough coyness to keep him on edge.

And he grinned.

Heaven help him, Molly was flirting with him! He felt like a nervous teenager asking someone to prom for the first time. His palms were sweaty, his stomach an unrelenting mess of butterflies, yet beneath it all was a flicker of pure exhilaration. If this didn’t blow up in his face—if by some miracle tonight went well—he could see it now: more dates, more laughter, and maybe, just maybe, a kiss that would knock the wind out of him.

Wow.

“I should go,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “This is me, going. I’m gonna go finish practice and… um, see ya.”

He managed to make it out the door, barely holding himself together, before pausing just outside. Wide-eyed and grinning like an idiot, Gerry sucked in a deep breath to calm the racing drumbeat in his chest.

He had a date with Molly.

An actual date.

And the way she’d looked at him just now—like she was excited about it—was enough to send his confidence soaring. If only he’d been brave enough to stop, turn back, and…

Before he could finish the thought, her excited outburst echoed behind him, muffled but unmistakable.

“YES! He freakin’ asked me out!”

Gerry grinned so hard his cheeks ached. He didn’t need to turn around to know Molly was probably dancing around her office. He was already floating.