Power Play: The Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Read online

  “Oh, easy for you to say. You can eat a whole cake and be good. I bake the cake and gain ten pounds. No. We need to stay strong.”

  “Elli. Come on, I’ll take you to PF Chang’s.”

  When I enter the kitchen, I see that my mom is ready to fight back. For as long as I can remember, my mom has been dieting. She has a thyroid disease that makes life hard for her. I have the same one, and I struggle too. Though, growing up, she never made me diet. She never limited me, and at every turn, she told me how gorgeous and perfect I am. Though, I think watching her struggle with her weight and each episode of sickness made me more attuned to my own issues and caused me to be more careful. I know what foods trigger my thyroid, and I stay clear of them. But man, if fried chicken and corn bread don’t sound damn good. With hot sauce.

  Mmm.

  When my mom sees me and her lips come together, gone are thoughts of food. My dad’s back is to me, and when he turns, his shoulders fall as his brows come in. It’s my mom who speaks first. “Well, nice to see you out of your room.”

  I nod, wringing my fingers as my dad says, “And that awful song not playing.”

  My lips twitch as I draw in a deep breath through my nose. When I look up, they’re both watching me. “Um, I’m really sorry. I made a bad choice, and it won’t happen again. I’ll pay you back ASAP for the plane ticket.”

  My mom’s arms wrap around her body as she nods slowly. “This is so unlike you.”

  “I know.”

  “If you’d asked, talked to me, Posey love, I would have flown you there myself.”

  My dad whips his head to her. “What the hell? Why?”

  “Because she needed to see for herself that he didn’t love her the way she loved him,” she says, coming to me and wrapping her arms around my neck. She kisses my temple, and I lean into her. “She always would have wondered if he did if she hadn’t thrown herself out there. Which is good. I’m so happy you wanted to take the chance.” I look over at her, and her eyes burn into mine. “I hate the way you did it, but I’m glad you did.”

  “I wanted to do something impulsive and romantic, I guess.”

  Mom gives me a small smile. “I know. With Shelli’s engagement, Amelia’s wedding, and then Maxim being traded, I can see that. But honey, he wasn’t the right one to do that for. He really wasn’t.”

  I look down at my hands. “I know that now.”

  “Honey, I love you. But if you had your choice, you’d keep going down the same route in life and be happy as a clam.” Apparently today is the day for a lot of clam witticisms. “Something needed to happen to change it up, and I think this might have been it.” She cups my face and then kisses my cheek. I lean into her as she wraps her arms around me again.

  When I look at my dad, I can see that he is not entertained or even convinced. “Or she could have stayed here and not gotten hurt at all. Something I was trying to protect her from and is why I sent the kid away.”

  Mom shakes her head. “Shea, I don’t know why you are constantly making sure Posey doesn’t get hurt but Shelli is out on her own.”

  “I protect both my girls.”

  “Posey more so,” she says matter-of-factly, still holding me but setting him with a look. “Or maybe it’s because, like I said before, she doesn’t put herself out there.”

  “She does just fine. Everyone loves her,” Dad throws back at her.

  “Well, of course they do. She is a joy, but she’d rather sit in the play-making room with the tapes than go out and be around people. I blame us. We didn’t push her.”

  Wow. My mom really makes me sound like a loner. I mean, I kinda suspected I was one, but I didn’t realize that she thought it too.

  “She’s smart. People suck,” Dad says, holding out his hands. “Unlike Shelli and the boys, she won’t get hurt. Smart.”

  “And what if I had been like this and never met you?”

  Dad scoffs. “Baby, I was meant to find you and marry you.”

  Swoon. “Yup, it’s y’all’s love that made me go to Colorado after Maxim.”

  They both look at me, concerned. I get that look a lot. I don’t consider myself the middle child, but in some sense, I am. Owen and Evan are the same person and wouldn’t accept being a middle child. I think because of that, I’ve taken on the role. It’s been an ongoing competition with Shelli, and then the boys are their own entity, and it left me on the bench, by myself. I don’t mind. I don’t even resent anyone for it, but I do know where they are coming from. Everything my mom is saying is true, and I’m not saying I’m changing right this second, but I want to do better.

  “Yes, I don’t put myself out there. Yes, I’d rather be alone with my tapes, and yes, I don’t live the life that Shelli is. Or hell, that the twins are, or even Quinn is. But with Maxim, I had to try, and it didn’t work out. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. I know you’re both nervous about that.”

  Dad nods. “We don’t want this to discourage you. Not all guys are jackasses.”

  “Most of them are, though,” Mom supplies, and I smile, though Dad gives her a dry look. “We just want you to be happy, my love.”

  “Yeah, what she said. If you’re happy watching tapes and cutting out the world, save me a seat.” He takes my hand then, squeezing it in his large one. He’s always been my hero. The standard for all men. “We see more coming from you.”

  “Like I said,” Mom says, pinning him with a look, “I feel you needed this as a wake-up call, almost. You can’t just sit back and wait for something to happen. Maybe if you had said something earlier, then something could have happened between you and Maxim—”

  “Or not.”

  She ignores my dad and goes on. “But you didn’t, and instead, you got your heart stomped on. Or better yet, the rug pulled out from underneath you.”

  “Real funny, Mom,” I say dryly, and she laughs. “Really, though, I hear you. You’re right. I handled this all wrong, but I want you both to know I am sorry for how I went about it.”

  Dad exhales. “You can pay us back with your first paycheck from the Assassins.”

  Mom looks satisfied with that. “I’ll just hold that check since you’ll be working with Uncle Jakob as our assistant special teams coach.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. When my uncle offered me the job, I didn’t take it. I wanted it—man, I want it. It’s a dream job. To work with professional players and help them win and dominate, yeah, that’s truly amazing. But I thought I wanted love more. Now I see the error of my ways. “I didn’t think the job would still be available for me.”

  She scoffs. “If you think I was gonna allow one of the best playmakers I’ve ever seen go somewhere else, you’re crazy. Ask your uncle. When I see talent, they don’t get away from me.”

  Dad hooks his thumb to my mom. “She doesn’t. She didn’t let me go anywhere.”

  She nods. “I locked him in and then trapped him with five kids. Oh, wait. No, that was me he trapped.”

  Dad snorts, and I grin as he pulls us both into his arms. They’re so silly. “We love you, Posey, so damn much. You’re going to do big things. You just have to do them.”

  I swallow hard as I revel in my parents’ arms. They’ve always told all of us that we would do big things. Of course, there is Shelli, a Broadway star turned owner-in-training of the Assassins. The twins have already been drafted into the NHL for the Maple Leafs. They’re said to be the next Sedin brothers, but they’re choosing college first, per my mom’s demands. Quinn has already been accepted into Harvard for their premed program. He wants to be a spinal doctor. They all have these huge dreams, big aspirations, and have made them happen. All I’ve ever wanted was to make some plays. Be one hell of a playmaker and ultimately bring home a Cup.

  Huh, I guess I do have dreams and aspirations, and the job to make those things happen is there for the taking.

  So, what the hell am I waiting for?

  Chapter Four

  Posey

  “I get
an office?”

  My uncle Jakob smiles proudly down at me. I’ve always been his favorite besides his own daughter Allison, who is a little over a year older than me. Allison has no desire to have anything to do with hockey. She doesn’t care one bit, which I find funny since it’s all we knew growing up. Maybe that’s why. Instead of falling in love with it, she hated it. Then again, hockey in her family didn’t go the way it did for mine. My uncle got hurt a lot, which resulted in an addiction to pain pills. Those were some rough waters, but we all stood by him. After all that, I guess I would hate the sport too.

  But I don’t.

  “You sure do get your own office.”

  This is awesome. The room is small, like itty-bitty, really just a box around a desk, but it’s mine. All mine. My name is on the nameplate, so yup, it’s mine! Instead of a wall on the south side, it’s just glass, overlooking the beautiful Nashville skyline. I have a very small bookcase and a chair that is really just an afterthought in the corner. I’m unsure what I am supposed to do with this room, but maybe I shouldn’t question it. “Why?”

  And apparently, I still question things that shouldn’t be questioned.

  He laughs. “You’ll have administrative tasks, stuff I don’t want to do,” he says with a waggle of his brows, and I grin. “And then a place to work when we’re not in meetings or on the ice. What did you think? You’d hang out on the couches outside and draw up your plays?”

  I shrug. “That’s what I’ve always done.”

  “Well, now you have an office.”

  I nod as I look around. “Can I have a whiteboard in here?”

  “I can make that happen.” He then leans into the door, watching as I go around the desk and sit down in front of my computer monitor. “It’s a touch screen,” he says, obviously proud of the fact that the computer is a touch screen.

  It is neat. On the base of the screen are six Post-it notes. Most have a different task I need to do for Jakob. It’s easy stuff—lineups and strategies he wants for our meeting after lunch. “You have those strategies for me, right?”

  “Yeah, I did them last night,” I say, typing in my password that is on one of the Post-its. “I’ll send it now.”

  Before I can, though, I notice a note from my mom.

  I love you, and I am incredibly proud of you.

  Love, Mom

  I am terrified. This is a huge deal, and I am stoked I am working for the Assassins. It’s my dream to do this, but it’s easy to knock yourself down when you’re feeling like shit. Maxim has been trying to call me, but I am avoiding those calls like a dodge ball. I’m nervous I am going to suck at this and not make my parents and uncle proud, and then there is my mom. She is always our biggest fan.

  My face lights up as I reach for my tablet, where I planned the strategies last night. After I send them to Jakob, I look up at him. He’s looking at his phone, and when he nods, I know he has the email. “Great. So, the schedule was emailed to you. This is considered our meeting since I am training you and we need to do it all very quickly. Coming in midseason will be rough, but we’ll make it. We have our coaches meeting with the other coaches coming up. That’s where we’ll need your strategies, and you’ll meet everyone. Coach Townes will then meet with the players for their meeting, and after, you and I will have our meeting with the team.”

  I bite my lip. I’ve never been to a meeting like that. I usually just sit on the bench and talk only to Jakob or Dad. They do all the talking to the team. I don’t have to do that. This is new, and I am completely out of my element. “Do I have to talk or something? I’m the assistant. I thought I assisted?”

  Jakob laughs. “I think you’ll do most of your talking on the ice. In the meeting, you’ll only explain what I don’t explain correctly. We’ll be on the same page, though, so I’m not worried. You shouldn’t be either.”

  I’m worried.

  “Oh, okay. So, eleven?” I ask after looking at the schedule. “When is lunch?”

  “Ten thirty. We eat early on game days. Don’t worry. We know the power play can’t be fixed in one day. It’s struggling. Though, we’ll make the play-offs—I don’t doubt that—but we won’t win if we can’t fix this. I don’t even know what has happened, but it’s bad.”

  “Last in the league, and three for sixty-two, yeah, I’d say so,” I say, disgusted by the stats. We play better shorthanded than we do with the extra man advantage. Makes absolutely no sense. How we are still third in the league is beyond me, but our McBroenes line is generating a lot of action. Their line alone averages two goals a game. That’s incredible. Plus, we have a rookie goalie, Branden Peca, who is taking the league by storm. He’s putting up numbers like Tate Odder used to put up. I mean, the kid is unstoppable. No one thought Shelli could do it, but she somehow convinced my mom to make some big moves this summer, and they’re paying off. Now we gotta fix the power play.

  “Listen, ever since Shelli came in, things are changing. And I think you are the missing piece we need. I think you’re going to get us that second Cup in a row. I’d love to have back-to-back Cup wins as a coach. Let’s make it happen, eh?”

  Shelli is so great, and now I’m expected to be the same. Yeah, no pressure.

  “Totally,” I agree, and he sends me a beaming grin.

  “I’m proud of you, kid. You’re going to make a difference. I can feel it.”

  Can he throw some of that confidence my way? I’m a whole lotta nervous. I click through my emails; mostly, they’re from the coaching staff, welcoming me and sending me their bios as if I don’t know who they are. I know everyone. I know the players, and I know all of the staff. I may be a “new” coach, but I’m hardly new. Don’t people realize I had a crib here when I was a baby? I’m basically one of the fixtures here.

  I’m almost done with my emails when my door opens, and in comes Shelli, holding a huge bouquet of purple tulips. This is probably the girliest thing about me, but I love a bouquet of tulips. They’re so gorgeous! Just like my sister.

  In sky-high black boots with red bottoms, she wears a formfitting sparkly purple dress that hugs her in all the right places. It also has the Assassins logo at the bottom; she and my mom had them made for game days. Yes, I rolled my eyes. And no, I didn’t want one. Her hair is down, straight, but with a pin holding back one side. Her lashes are long and pretty, and her makeup is impeccable.

  As always.

  “Congratulations!” she coos as she sets the bouquet on my desk. “We need you,” she says with her hands on her hips. “I was the one to suggest you when Mandella quit. He wasn’t a good fit, and I told Mom that in a meeting. I guess he took the hint and scrammed, but you are a perfect fit.”

  I perk a brow. “You said that in front of him?”

  She nods. “Yes, he needed to know. Jakob is good at teaching the plays, but we need a playmaker—you. We need you.”

  I grin. “Wow. Thanks, Shelli.”

  She leans on my desk. “Don’t thank me. Your talent speaks for itself, and I’m so proud to call you my sister.”

  Wow. Okay. This is going so well. “Thanks, really. That means a lot.”

  But then she focuses on me. Her expression turns to one of disdain as she holds out her hand to me. “What the hell, Posey? Did you not read the email I sent you?”

  I furrow my brow and glance back at the computer. I point to her email that’s at the bottom. “I haven’t made it there yet.”

  “What are you wearing?” she asks, straightening up and coming around the desk to look me over.

  I’m wearing a pair of black windbreakers and an Assassins T-shirt. My hair is up under the Assassins ball cap I’ve had since I was ten. I’m not parting with this thing either. “What? I put lip gloss on!”

  Kiwi flavor.

  She moves her hand up and down. “This is not proper attire for game days.”

  I blink. “What in the hell am I supposed to wear?”

  “Business attire. Suits, dresses, something fancy.”

 
; I’m sorry, what? “Even when I have meetings and practice?”

  She pauses and then nods. “True, I forgot you guys were doing all that today. I would have thought that was something to do tomorrow. But I’m not the coach, and as long as the boys get their naps in, they’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, I agree. And I’ll wear something nice tonight.”

  “And you’ll do your hair? And makeup?”

  I make a face. Did she not hear me say I had on lip gloss? “No one is going to see me. I’m not on the bench.”

  “I know, but you are a part of this team. It’s image, and we look damn good on game nights. You should have ordered a dress like this,” she says, posing ever so dramatically for me.

  “I’ll pass,” I say as diplomatically as I can. I could have said something along the lines of how ridiculous she looks, but I don’t want to fight with her on my first day.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “I don’t think my heart has slowed down since I stepped in here.” I let out a long breath, and she smiles sweetly. The kind of smile she used to give our parents when we’d get into something we shouldn’t have. I have always been taller, and it was easy for me to lift her so we could get to the cookies on top of the fridge. I’m pretty sure Aiden is the one getting her cookies now.

  I hardly eat cookies. I sure do miss those.

  “I was terrified too, but don’t worry. You are a force to be reckoned with, and I need you to find the confidence you had to go to Colorado and use it here. These boys don’t even know what you’re about to bring to our team.”

  I want to believe her words. I want to believe in myself, but I’m a little shaken right now. Apparently my sister is oblivious to my nerves, because she leans on my desk again, her gaze holding mine. “So, have you talked to Maxim?”

  I look away. “No. I’ve ignored his calls and texts.”

  “For the best. He doesn’t deserve you. I told you plenty of times to tell him how you felt so this wouldn’t happen. Instead, you embarrassed the shit out of yourself.”