Yep, but there’s nothing more relaxing than watching them. I may have to get some more bala sharks since they’re supposed to be in schools of six or more, but they seem happy enough right now.
This is one subject where it doesn’t seem like she minds questions. And it doesn’t feel like I can ask anything that makes someone uncomfortable, so I spend a fuck ton of time just throwing questions at this woman. Well into the night.
Honestly, it was one of the best evenings I’ve had in a while. And I learned a whole lot.
Chapter Four
TORIN
I’msuper self-conscious today about being at practice, so I’ve stayed out of the stands. How many times can I realistically explain away why I’m hanging around when I’m not needed? My job is self-explanatory when there are people here. Any kind of audience at all. But when it’s just the team on the ice? Not so much.
Instead, I’m creeping inside the chute, hopefully just out of sight. It’s well lit so I can’t quite say that I’m in the shadows, but I’m definitely not right up against the boards or sitting somewhere in the stands, either.
I grin when Miles Norton scores on Winslow. The team shares some cheers and high fives with him. Not that I want many people to score on our goalie, but you have to have a healthy balance and root for every player in all positions. Right?
I’m startled when a shadow falls next to mine. Coach Ajo stops next to me, hands in his pockets, and watching the team. I had no idea he wasn’t still out there. He’s a good looking man with short, neat hair that’s graying just above his ears, bright blue eyes, and a shadow of growth on his face.
“They’re looking pretty good,” Coach muses.
I nod, cheeks flushing.
“Think they’re ready for their first game next week?”
I nod again.
Ajo looks at me. He’s one of those people whose restingexpression can look a little… cold. Not mean exactly, but just… unfriendly. However, when he looks at me, there’s a softer expression. A small smile. I still tense, but not because of how he’s looking at me. Just that he’s looking at me at all.
“What d’you think?” he asks. “Anywhere you see that we need to work?”
It feels like he’s asking me if I think he’s doing his job well. My face burns a little more as I shrug, shaking my head.
His smile climbs a little as he looks back at the ice. We’re quiet for a minute. I’m not sure if he’s waiting for me to say something or if I should excuse myself since I have no business being there.
“They were concerned when they didn’t see you in the stands,” Ajo says.
I look at him, startled, unsure what he’s talking about.
His gaze touches mine, but he continues to watch the team instead of looking at me. “I’m confident they view your presence as a good luck charm. Knowing you’re here watching them gives them confidence.”
My breath catches. “I—It does?”
I’ve never seen Ajo smile; at least not a big, happy, friendly smile. When he smiles or is pleased, it’s always small and unassuming. In his eyes, you can tell when he’s happy. They’re very expressive as far as showing his displeasure or happiness. But his smile never gets very big.
When he looks at me, he gives me probably the biggest smile I’ve ever seen him have. Which is saying something because it’s still rather small and unassuming. “Hockey players can be very superstitious,” he tells me. “Not sure if you know that. But yes. They look for you every time they get on the ice—game or practice, doesn’t matter. Your presence comforts them.”
I bow my head, tears stinging my eyes. I try to blink through them, so Ajo doesn’t see me teary. When I think I have myself under control again, I look back at the ice.
“Look at Atlas,” Ajo says, and I search him out. He’s standing on the ice in front of the bench as he drinks. With a mouthful of water, he shifts to look around. Almost as if he’s searching the invisible crowd for something. “He’s looking for you right now.”
My stomach flips. Especially when Atty frowns and turns backto the bench. Another drink of water and he sets the bottle down and returns to the ice.
Ajo nudges my arm gently. “Let me know if you spot something I might have missed that our boys can work on, hmm?”
“I don’t know hockey that well,” I say.
He chuckles. “I think you know hockey very well, even if you don’t understand terms and drills and plays. I’d be willing to bet you could name every player’s weakness and strength.”
Chewing on the inside of my lip, I don’t argue. Even if I’m not sure he’s right. Considering I spend most of my time drooling—uh… observing?—Hugo, I’m not convinced.
