Chapter 35

A few players are talking along the boards as I get on the ice. I'm going through Jeanine's notes from the last practice when my thoughts are interrupted by their conversation. Are they talking about what I think they are?

"Most guys have tried it. I mean, why wouldn't they? They'd fuck a fruit pie, I feel like this should be expected," Joey says.

Timber laughs. "No fucking way."

Cori chimes in. "What are you guys talking about?"

Yes. Thank you, Cori. I need some clarification too . I pretend to go through papers while eavesdropping.

"Guys trying to suck their own dicks."

That's what I thought I heard. This I gotta hear.

Cori huffs a laugh. "How would you even know that?"

"Because I ask them."

Now Timber's involved. "Wait, who is them ? You just walk up to men and ask them if they ever tried to suck their own dicks?"

"Makes for one hell of an icebreaker," Cori mutters.

Joey casually fixes some of the tape on her stick. "No, but if I'm on my knees about to blow a dude, I'll ask him. So far, one hundred percent of men have tried to suck their own dick at some point in their life."

I mean, she's not wrong.

"Shut the fuck up." Timber groans with a smile, clearly not buying it.

"Damn, that's a big population study."

Uh-oh, sounds like gunfire. I glance at them out of the corner of my eye in time to see Joey put up her middle finger.

Delta pushes off the wall nearby. "Okay, I wasn't going to get involved with this, but fuck, now I'm invested. So, could any of them do it?"

Joey nods. "Several could."

Cori leans on her stick. "Did they say what it was like?" She narrows her eyes like she's genuinely curious.

This time, Joey laughs. "Yeah." I already know what she's going to say. "They said it felt like having a dick in their mouth."

The women laugh. Ask any guy who's accomplished this task, it feels way more like sucking dick than getting your dick sucked. Not proud that I know that, but here we are.

Delta narrows her eyes. "Wait, what about jacking off? Wouldn't that just feel like giving someone else a handjob?"

Cori jumps in. "That's why I can only use vibrators!"

Okay, that's way more than I needed to know. Backing out of this.

"No, it's gotta be the same as women fingering themselves," Timber says.

"Maybe you should ask Whit." Joey snarks, talking to Delta.

Hold up. What? Why did she mention Whit?

Delta cuts her a look. "Maybe you should work on your stickwork."

"Didn't you hear? My stickwork is great."

"I'm ambidextrous! I can use anything!" Timber says.

Fucking abort.

"Jesus Christ!" I shout, and cover my ears with one hand and a clipboard. "Fucking stop talking. All of you. Go. Skate. Do… something! Just stop talking."

I shake off the mental image of my players strumming their clitars, or worse, why Timber said " anything! " with so much enthusiasm.

Everyone laughs, except for Joey. Ever the button-pusher, she adds, "Hey, Coach… can you do it?"

I wouldn't answer that question if there was a gun to my head.

"Wait a minute… weren't you out with a back injury a few seasons back?" she asks.

"Fucking hell," I mutter, pinching my brow. My head snaps up, and I scowl at her. "Get out there and do some lines!"

"Oooh, no thanks. I'm trying to quit. Gotta get that whole Trainwreck Breck thing under control."

I swing my head toward Jeanine. "Is this a nightmare?" We are weeks away from our first game, and her attitude needs a serious adjustment before then.

Jeanine points to the ice. "Breck. Lines. Now."

Joey aims a finger at Jeanine. "There we go! Cracking the whip, Ice Queen Jeanine! I like it!"

"I swear to God…" I say to my assistant coach, shaking my head.

"Same," she replies.

Joey Breck is a pain in my ass. Usually it's harmless shit-talking, but I received a text from one of our staffers that they saw her partying pretty fucking hard at a club last night. I'm sure those bag lines she's skating right now are making her regret every decision she drank at the bar. She better not puke on my ice.

The PWHL is too new to have one player drawing a lot of negative attention. There's a double standard for women athletes. Nobody thinks twice about an NHL player throwing a fist or leaving a bar drunk with a couple of women on his arm. However, as soon as one of our players is seen drunk and dancing up on people, all of a sudden it's news. Annoying, but it is what it is. Our new organization can't afford a catch-and-kill everytime Joey goes out and throws back a few.

The frustration creases my brow until I notice one of the camera guys coming out of the tunnel. Kendra's here, and I can't help the half smile that graces my face. I'm also thankful the crew didn't get a chance to pick up the players' fellatio discussion earlier. It'll be a while before I can bleach that from my brain.

She carries in her bag of gear and pulls out a tablet, tapping away. I skate to the visitor bench where Lance, the camera operator, is setting up.

"Either of you need anything?" I ask, looking at Kendra. She knows I'm talking to her.

"Nope, we're good," she says with a fake smile and a firm stare.

"I'll have one of the assistants bring over some water and snacks." I wink at her.

Lance is oblivious as he hooks up a contraption that he wears like a vest to hold the video camera to help stabilize the shot or something. He stands and heads over to one of the holes in the plexiglass to set up a secondary tripod for filming. Jeanine is out on the ice running drills with defense. I've learned as soon as pucks start flying, the cameras hide behind barriers. Probably smart.

"Stop, I'm fine." I smile at the way her lips roll together to form the p at the end of the word.

"You're going to the sin bin."

"Why?"

I point to the penalty box. "Because you're not wearing a helmet and those pucks are flying through the air around eighty miles per hour. Go." Not to mention, hockey benches are fucking disgusting. Full of spit and who knows what else.

She rolls her eyes and reluctantly enters the penalty box next to the bench. I make a mental note to have a better chair put in there for her. She doesn't want me fussing over her, but there's only so much control I have regarding her comfort. I enjoy taking care of her. Especially now that she's pregnant with my child. The next few months will test my self-restraint like no other.

"Sully."

Whit's voice has me spinning around, the curious flicker in his eyes tells me he's been watching my interaction with Kendra for the last few minutes. The way I smile when I'm around her probably makes it look pretty flirty.

"A word?"

I nod and skate to the home bench where he's standing. He nods toward Kendra. "How's the show going?"

With my most casual shrug, I glance back at her before responding, "Meh. Not my favorite thing, but it's getting easier to deal with."

He nods. "That's good to hear. I'm sure you know there's a lot riding on this production. A lot of money exchanging hands—money this team needs." His stare conveys his message more than his words do. He's telling me not to fuck this up.

I nod. "Got it."

"It's unfair to put it all on your shoulders, but having a corporate sponsor could make or break our success this season. This show is critical."

Somehow, I hold back my eyeroll. I understand what he's telling me, but damn, I look forward to the day this show doesn't matter. When flirting with Kendra in public won't draw attention and my only job is coaching this incredible team and taking us to the finals.