Blindfolded by Love

Chapter 5

Maxwell’s POV

This game was an absolute train wreck, and it felt like I was driving the engine straight into the fire.

Five minutes into the first half, and we had already conceded a whole three goals. The opposing team moved like an impenetrable unit; tight and swift passes, coordinated skates, every player in sync like they could read each other's minds.

Meanwhile, my team? Looked like we had just crawled out of a bus crash. Sloppy and careless defense, zero strategy and formations, Cal had nearly shot the puck into our goal post twice now and Victor almost passed the puck to the opposing team.

And the worst part about it, my stepmother didn't utter a single word. It was Coach that was going up and about barking orders.

She sat up in the stands with that infuriating calm expression, legs crossed, arms folded. Not coaching. Not shouting. Not even flinching when someone gets knocked on their ass. She was merely observing with a detached indifference. She didn't care what was going on. She looked like she was humoring herself with a poorly acted comedy film.

Halftime finally came and we were absolutely toasted. A glaring 4-0 was written on the scoreboard for everyone to see our disgraceful failure.

My stick cracked against the boards as I slammed it down during the first break. The locker room smelled like sweat, bad energy and the unmistakable stench of failure. He could hear the victory cheers of the opposing team in the locker room beside us. They were celebrating cleaning our asses up.

“Where the hell is our coordination?” I snapped at them.

DeShawn shrugged indifferently, wiping his sweaty face with a face towel. "I don't know Cap, you told me."

“I’m not the one missing shots like a blind bat! You keep on getting openings but you miss them. Every single one. And you have the nerve to say that you don't know. Are you kidding me?"

“Okay, bro,” Cal muttered trying to be the mediator as always, “take a breath.”

Coach walked in with my step mom, Coach Juliet. Coach didn't look at us, just sat down dejectedly and took off his cap.

And Juliet, she just sat down at one corner and went on her phone. She looked so unbothered that I don't know why it irked me. She was supposed to be our assistant coach and didn't see what just happened.

I was about to open my mouth and give her a piece of my mind when the door creaked open and a tall, well suited man walked in like betrayal he owned the place. Bald, broad-shouldered, and buzzing with urgency. His eyes glanced at us like we were nothing but when they landed on Juliet, they began to sparkle with unrestrained excitement.

“Coach Juliet? Is that you?"

She looked up from her phone, blinking once. Her eyes suddenly lit up like she recognized the man.

"Alvin, how nice to see you." She said as she gave the man a big hug. "What are you doing here so far from New York?"

“ I got a tip that you were here and instantly boarded the closest flight I could find. Do you know how many federations are after you right now? National, international, heck, even the Canadians want a piece of you. You are gold baby just pure gold "

"You flatter me too much Alvin. I will try my best." Juliet smiled softly.

I froze. He recognized that name Alvin. Wasn't he the top recruiter in the country? How did he know Juliet?

The man continued, “You’re legendary. You coached that Russian under 18 team to gold with players who couldn’t even pronounce ‘puck.’ What’re you doing in this town coaching...” He glanced around. “this?”

She gave him a serene smile. “I’m not coaching obviously. Well not anymore."

Silence.

“You’re just… watching them get slaughtered?” he said.

“I’m observing,” she replied smoothly.

Maxwell saw it. The twitch in the man's jaw. The way he looked at the scoreboard. Down by six. “This definitely isn’t you,” he muttered. “What happened to you?”

But she didn’t reply. Just stood and walked out. Regal and silent like some kind of ice queen.

The door shut. Her absence thudded in my chest like an echo.

“Wait…” Rami said slowly. “She's Juliet Marlow? Like, Juliet Marlow?”

“She coached the Iceland team at the World Juniors,” Cal added, eyes wide. “They swept. I watched it. She outsmarted everyone.”

They were all whispering now. His teammates. About his step mom. The one he told them only knew the basics of hockey. That she only became an assistant coach because his dad wanted to please her. That she was just a mistress. Juliet Marlow was just a mistress apparently.

Maxwell stayed quiet. His throat was dry.

That coach had looked at their team like a joke. Like a waste of her time.

I definitely knew why.

They were a waste of her time.

And worse than that, Regina had been watching too. Silent. Always quiet. But

I had seen her eyeing their plays. Like she was doing calculus in her head. Like she already knew how to beat them all.

My ego flared. No. I wasn’t going to let some quiet step-sister or legendary step mother make me look weak.

But the truth was, deep in my gut, I desperately needed help. But not from them. I couldn't let them see me as a loser. I could not let Regina have the last laugh. I would get the help I need. But not like this.

Not with anyone's pity or anyone's charity. I couldn't let my mom down by taking the help of the woman who took her husband. It was bad enough that she knew Juliet had used her hockey knowledge to trap Dad, but if she found out that she was actually a hockey legend... I don't even want to imagine what would happen.

I didn't know how to properly lead a team yet but I will try.

"The second half begins in fifteen minutes."

And I have fifteen minutes to figure it out.