“Why don’t I send your dad some information onHis Dark Materialstonight?” I hedged. The serieswaspretty advanced for her age. Not every parent wanted their eight-year-old reading about witches and epic battles and shadowy religious institutions.
“Is it a kids’ book?” Liam asked.
“Definitely,” I said. “But maybe better for fifth and sixth graders.”
He shrugged. “Josie has always read way over her grade level. I usually let her pick whatever books she wants.”
“Please, Miss K.” Josie did the blinking trick again and I laughed.
“If your dad says it’s okay, I’ll have the books in the classroom on Monday. That can be your first free reading book if you’d like.”
“Really?” Her eyes were big in the dark parking lot. “That would be awesome!”
I raised my fist for her to bump. “It’s a deal then.”
Josie giggled, bumping my fist. “My dad always does this, too. He says high fives are lame.”
“I guess Miss K. isn’t lame,” Liam agreed, grinning at me. And oh, I was going to be in so much trouble. That grin justdidthings to me.
“It was good seeing you again,” I told him, opening my door.
“You, too, Miss K.” There was amusement in his voice. Like maybe he knew exactly how he affected me. I climbed into the car, determined not to look at him again. But as he moved to shut my door for me, the bastard leaned forward, face only a few inches from mine. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. I just love to volunteer in Josie’s classroom.”
Then he shut the door, leaving me to wonder what on earth I could have done to have made the universe so angry that it would reward me with Liam O’Conner invading my working day.
CHAPTER 9
The first day of training camp always got me fired up. Didn’t matter how long I’d been in the league, the start of the season still made me feel like a little kid, eager to lace up my skates. That kind of passion, that love of the game, was every bit as important as any skill I might have. Without that passion, I would have quit a long time ago. The road to an NHL career is long and difficult. For years I practiced before school, every day of the week, while most of my friends slept in. In high school I got a part time job to help my parents pay the hefty ice time fees. Combined with my school work and my two-a-day hockey practices, it’s a wonder I ever got any sleep.
But it had been worth it. It had been worth every drop of sweat, every knocked-out tooth, every check to the boards. When I skated out onto that ice for the first time in Austin, I knew I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. A hockey rink was where I was supposed to be.
“Listen up, men,” Coach Dillion called, and we all grouped around him. “We’re gonna start with some drills today, get your blood pumping.” He gestured to his side. “This is Gates, yourassistant coach. He’ll be in charge. You do everything he says and you don’t complain and you should survive the day.”
He looked around at us, making eye contact with a few guys, then let out a sigh before turning and skating away.
“That guy really needs to tone it down with his optimism,” Jay said. “I’m going to start feeling spoiled.”
I snorted and turned my attention to Coach Gates, ready to hear what he wanted to see from us.
We ran drills the entire morning. Dillion didn’t come back to the ice, nor did I see him in the stands. Knight was up there with a few of the management guys, but no coach. You’d think he’d want to see what we were capable of.
Then again, if he stuck around to watch it might just destroy whatever shred of optimism he still possessed.
We were a mess. There was just no getting around it. The first day of camp was always an adjustment. Veterans usually felt rusty. It didn’t matter how much you worked out over the summer, getting back on the ice with a major league team after a few months off was a shock to the system.
But rusty veterans were the least of our worries. The rookies—and man, there were so many rookies—were skittish and nervous. I had watched them doing some of these same drills earlier in the week so I knew they had it in them. Hopefully they just needed a little time to work out the nerves.
Otherwise, we were going to be in really big trouble.
After a quick break, Gates broke us up into scrimmage teams. I found myself with Jay, Karlsson, Ryan Cane, and a bunch of guys I didn’t know well yet. Enzo was in goal for our side, and I skated over to him before Gates dropped the puck. “You feeling loose?”
“Not too bad,” he said, stretching in the crease.
“I watched you play the other day at prospects camp. You were looking solid out here.”
He grunted. “Got to tell you, I wasn’t getting many difficult shots coming my way.”
Yeah. I’d noticed that too.
