“Pick up the pace, Cooper! This is training, not your casual Saturday spin around the lake!” Coach shouted at me from the stands.

I was sweating hard as I skated up and down the ice, running drills until my back was soaked. You couldn’t beat the feeling of being on the ice, your muscles burning, the bite of the cold that you feel in your lungs. That smell that only an ice rink can create. Chemicals. Sweat. Ice.

“Wake the fuck up!” Coach called, and we pushed harder, faster. “We aren’t getting the Cup if you fuckers are asleep out there.”

He said this every training, no matter if we were sweating blood or not. Coach Tooniski, better known as Coach Toons, swore like a sailor whose mother was a prostitute. He was also the best coach the IceCaps had in a decade, so I’d take the abuse and only mentally flip him the finger. We all knew deep down that he was making us better. He might swear and yell a lot out on the ice, but he also took care of the players, not just the team.

When I’d asked for a reference for Nova, he’d sat down straight after training and written me out a glowing recommendation. He’d looked me dead in the eye and told me that if I needed any fucking help, then just let him know, day or even in the middle of the goddamn night. Direct quote. He meant it too. And he’d say the same thing to every one of the guys on the team.

The goaltending coach was Dana Soukal, a forty-five-year-old Czech woman who said very little outside of coaching, but had a look that could shrivel your balls from twenty-five feet away. The rookies were petrified of her, the few players who tried hitting on her never looked her in the eye again, and I was fairly sure she wore PVC and cracked a whip on the weekends. The goalies grew balls of steel, but had some of the best stats in the NHL, so you couldn’t argue with that kind of record.

However, underneath all that tough exterior was a deceptively soft heart, and the hunger to succeed. She made us better, even if she was tough. You had to be in this sport, man or woman. But especially if you wanted to be a female coach. Fuck that shit. She’d also written us a reference, and while it didn’t have as many curse words, it was genuinely positive.

Probably didn’t hurt that Rigby was terrified of her, and therefore super polite. Thank goodness he wasn’t the goalie.