Okay.I woke up humbled and not proud of myself. Price was correct, and the wallowing had to stop. I showered, shaved, took my meds, and dressed in something other than sweats and a T-shirt. Even going through those motions made me feel and look better.
I’d never admit it to my brother, but I was glad he came over and snapped me out of this unwelcome, pathetic funk. And was I really gonna sit there and pout about Jordan being gone? Was I gonna feel sorry for myself that my appendix turned on me? Or, was I gonna fight for the things I wanted?
Fuck yeah, you are.
We had practice in an hour, and I’d cheer the team on, watch, learn, maybe even ask J.D. if I could stand near him. I wanted to play more, but the idea of coaching still intrigued me. Who knew what would happen if I had another surgery or if my left arm gave out. I wanted to have options, and I should use this as an opportunity to learn.
That was step one.
The next step was going to Logan’s house and talking to Jordan. She could turn me away, but Logan’s parents wouldn’t leave me standing outside in the cold. They loved me. I’d use that to my advantage. I wasn’t beneath that.
Content with my plan, I put on my coat and grabbed a quick granola bar before running into Price. “You’re still here?”
“Where the fuck else would I be?”
“Not in my house,” I said, pleased he’d stayed over. I expected him to be gone, done with my sorry ass, but he was there. “Thank you, for yesterday.”
“Yeah, I know. You needed the pep talk and smackdown. It’s what I’m good at, blah, blah.” He rolled his eyes but pulled me into a bear hug. “We all need a little pity party before we bounce back ready to fucking rock and roll.”
“When did you get so…”
“Wise? Intelligent? Incredible? Since birth, baby.” He flashed an annoyingly smug smile. “Mom thinks you’re the better child, but I’m most improved player.”
Goddamn it. This time I laughed and found a new fondness for my brother. We had never been like this, open and real with each other. We were always focused on our sports and future, and sometimes we’d work out together, but this new version of our friendship was awesome. “Thank you. Really.”
“You’re welcome.” He held out a fist, and I hit it. “Tell Jordan I said hi later.”
“You’re assuming she’ll be willing to speak with me.”
“Got the feeling bro.”
We left the house and locked up, and I dropped him off at his place before going to the rink right after.
The place felt colder when you weren’t on the ice. Watching from the bench wasn’t the same—it didn’t get your blood pumping, didn’t let you feel the rhythm of the game. It just left you cold. I tugged my jacket tighter around me, pretending I wasn’t itching to lace up my skates and jump over the boards.
J.D. stood a few feet away, clipboard in hand, his sharp eyes tracking every pass, every shot. He didn’t miss a thing. I’d always respected that about him. He wasn’t just an assistant coach; he was a student of the game, someone who lived and breathed hockey like the rest of us. Today, I wasn’t here to be part of the action. I was here to learn.
“Not bad,” J.D. muttered as Liam fired a slapshot that whizzed past the goalie’s glove. “Good positioning.”
I stepped closer, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Think he’s over-relying on his speed, though?”
J.D. glanced at me, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You tell me, Charming. What’s he missing?”
I hesitated, watching Liam skate back into the drill line. “He’s fast, no question. But he doesn’t scan the ice enough. He’s so focused on beating the defense, he doesn’t see the weak-side winger coming in. If he dropped the puck there, it’s a guaranteed goal.”
J.D. nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. “Good catch. That’s the kind of stuff coaches look for—patterns, tendencies, what works and what doesn’t. Players can get tunnel vision. It’s our job to see the bigger picture.”
I leaned against the boards, my breath fogging up in front of me. “How do you balance it, though? Knowing what to correct without overwhelming the team?”
J.D. chuckled, tucking his pen behind his ear. “That’s the trick, isn’t it? You can’t throw everything at them at once. Focus on one or two key adjustments. If you overload them, they’ll freeze up. Hockey’s fast—you don’t want them thinking too much out there. You want instinct.”
I nodded, filing that away. “So, with Liam… you’d work on his vision first. Get him looking for his options.”
“Exactly. Once that clicks, you can layer on other things, like timing his passes better or finding better shooting lanes. Coaching’s a long game, Preston. You build them up piece by piece.”
I watched the next drill, my gaze following Tyler as he fumbled a pass and skated hard to recover. The frustration on his face was obvious. I’d felt it plenty of times before. “What do you do when they get in their own heads? Like, when they know they screwed up and can’t shake it?”
J.D. didn’t answer right away. He watched Tyler for a moment, then turned to me. “What would you tell him?”
