Chapter 6

I call her again. No answer. We've texted back and forth, but she's been silent since yesterday afternoon. My last text from her said she was going into a meeting. I'm hoping she's simply heads-down in her work. She's probably swamped because I turned down the show, so I shouldn't blow up her phone and cause a bigger disruption.

When I returned the missed call from Whit Moreau, he told me he's the new GM for the Minnesota Rogues, the new PWHL team, which is awesome. Even better, he called to discuss an opportunity; I've been in the sport long enough to know opportunity is code for coaching.

"I want to offer you the position of head coach." The words have played on a loop in my head since he spoke them. His pitch had my hands shaking. As soon as I ended the call, I dialed my best friend, Barrett Conway, to shout out my adrenaline. I want this so bad. After that, I called my lawyer. I need someone to help me go through contracts. Whit mentioned there were some goofy stipulations, and we're meeting to discuss them today.

My life is coming together for the first time since retirement. I met a great girl and might have a shot at the head coach spot of a pro team? Things are good. I was eager to tell Kendra about it. Thought maybe we could go out and celebrate. If anybody understands career wins, it's her.

We're meeting at the Lakes arena offices, where the Minnesota women's team will also play. I'm pleased the Lakes are sharing the space instead of some bullshit like having them play at the university arena. Professional hockey is professional hockey, regardless of gender, and they deserve to be on this ice as much as the NHL. And to coach a team on the same ice I used to play on? It doesn't get much better than that.

Standing at the mouth of the locker room tunnel, I observe the Zamboni smooth the ice for tomorrow morning's practice. My own professional team . Holy shit. I will do whatever it takes to get the head coach spot.

My phone dings with a text from my lawyer letting me know he's heading toward the conference room. I stuff my phone back in my pocket and give the arena one last look over before straightening my tie and heading upstairs.

When I find him in the conference room, I smile. "Nick."

"Sully!" he says with a big smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Fucking amazing. I want this, man." My gut tells me this position is meant for me. I just need the PWHL to see it. Voices from outside the conference room draw closer. I assume that's who we're meeting with, and I straighten. Nick slaps my back. "Let's go, Coach."

We stand together as staff members filter into the room. I freeze when the name of the production company Kendra works for, Vault Productions, is on one of the visitor badges. What are they doing here?

It doesn't make sense for them to be in this meeting. I'm trying to pay attention to everyone's names during introductions, but it's distracting. There are a few familiar faces from the Lakes administrative staff, but I've never met them before today.

A hand is thrust in my direction.

"I'm Pierce Haldermann, from Vault. I believe you already met one of our producers, Kendra Ames. Unfortunately, she couldn't be here today."

Hearing her name snaps me out of the fog. What is going on?

I accept the handshake and nod slowly. "Nice to meet you."

Eyeing my lawyer, he gives me a trusting nod.

We take our seats, and one of the executives jokes about ambushing my meeting with the PWHL rep. I'm still trying to decipher what a television production company has in common with me coaching a hockey team.

Whit Moreau hurries through the door. "Sorry I'm late."

I shoot him a glance, and he looks away. Something's up. Why do I feel like I'm the odd man out?

I can't deal with the unknowing a second longer. "Sorry, I'm confused here. Why is a production company present for this meeting?"

My lawyer nudges me with his leg, then they explain how the job I want most is now wrapped up in my own fucking nightmare. Apparently, the Minnesota women's team is being sponsored by the MNSports network. The same network Kendra's production company is contracted with.

"I already met with Kendra and told her I wasn't interested in Love Algorithm ."

One of the PWHL reps speaks up. "Part of our sponsorship agreement is that you'll agree to filming a new show. It's no longer called Love Algorithm . We'd like to film a docuseries following your position as the head coach of a women's team, going from NHL to PWHL. In addition, we'd like to have access to your personal life. You know, dating, bachelorhood, et cetera. This would be a six-month commitment. In exchange, you'll receive a two-year contract as head coach of the Minnesota Rogues hockey team. At the end of those two years, you may reevaluate your contract for an extension if you choose."

"So, what, you only want me as the coach if I do the show?"

"We want you as coach regardless," Whit interrupts. He seems as annoyed as I am about this whole ordeal. "However, we need to align with the prospective sponsor. Which means you'll have to commit to the show."

Someone from the Lakes staff speaks up. "The PWHL will be receiving some help from the NHL. We'll assist with the start-up, but the Rogues need their own funding."

A PWHL staffer adds, "MNSports is the highest sponsor, and we want to keep it that way."

Of course. It always comes down to money. The more money a team has, the more resources they have. The more resources, the better odds of a team's success and a higher return on investment for owners and shareholders. It's not about whether they want me.

I'm a bargaining chip. If I say yes, I get my dream job and earn the team a sponsor with a lot of money. If I say no, I'm not only giving up my dream, I'll be costing the women's team their highest paid sponsor. I'll fuck over an entire PWHL organization.

"I'm here because I want to coach. I'm not the next Bachelor reality star."

The Vault Productions bro in the corner sighs as if he's annoyed with me. "Actually, you are. You're not just a player. You're the retired captain that women fall over. You've got a good record, you're likable. You're intriguing because you stay under the radar, but you've thrown enough punches on the ice to show you don't fuck around. It's a winning combination for viewership. You check all the boxes." He leans back in his chair and pulls out his phone as if he's bored. Guy's a dick.

"We want you as the coach, Sully. That's why I called," Whit adds. It makes me feel a little better that I'm not the only one who thinks this is asinine.

"And if I say no to the show?"

The jerk in the corner opens his mouth. "Then we will consider different candidates. Someone who can handle the show and being head coach." Whit glares at the guy from across the room. Is this legal?

"Just to be clear, we all know this is bullshit, right?" I say. The room responds with silence. Unreal. "Surely there's another hockey player out there that would be better for the show?"

"Perhaps a former Lakes player?" my lawyer suggests.

Douche-bro speaks up without glancing up from his phone. "There are better options, unfortunately, they're all married. We prefer to have someone single who can add more interest for our female viewership. It's not just some hockey team documentary." I don't like this guy.

Shit.

"Was this the plan all along? Kendra never mentioned any of this." Was this her backup plan? What the fuck, Kendra? How could you not tell me?

"This is a new development. Kendra wasn't informed of the network's involvement as a sponsor until yesterday." Her text… I've got to step into a meeting. Talk later. She was just as blindsided as me. That's why she stopped communicating with me. I feel like a dick for blaming her.

Fuck. I want this coaching position. The first pro women's team in Minnesota. This is huge. It's history. I also want Kendra, but Kendra isn't guaranteed. This job is .

"Let's negotiate the terms."

My lawyer interrupts. "The salary request we submitted is now void, and we'll be resubmitting a new number based on the information learned today."

I nod. Then I point at the guy in the corner with a smug look on his face. "Is he the producer?"

One of the executives nod back. So Kendra also got fucked out of the job she wanted. "No. I want Kendra to stay on as the producer."

The guy in the corner sits up. "With all due respect, she's not experienced enough for a docuseries."

I lean forward in my chair in his direction and look him in the eye. "I don't like you."

Next to me, Nick clears his throat. "…Respectfully," he tacks on.

"She's the only one I'm willing to work with," I say.

The producer opens his mouth to retort, but one of the executives—I think his name is Pierce—cuts him off before he can get a word out. "We can reinstate Kendra as a coproducer. She can be the only producer that you have to interact with, but Jeremy will remain on as the senior producer."

Right. Jeremy Bowers. What a dick.

She's still my endgame, even if I have to do this stupid six-month song and dance with the network first. The managers and execs look at each other before returning their gazes to me. Nick makes notes in my peripheral.

I glance over to Whit; we've had parallel careers with similar goals. I respect him and know he'll make a terrific GM. Everything is perfect… except for the show.

"Put all of that in the contract and send it to my lawyer for review."

Whit drops his head and lifts it again. Thank you , he mouths to me.

We shake hands, and they throw an NDA in front of me to sign to make sure I keep my mouth shut until a formal announcement is made. I sign and initial, then get the fuck out of there without sparing the executives another glance.

It's just six months. We can wait six months.