"Morning, Captain!"
Theo bounded into the locker room like it wasn't the middle of the night. He looked irritatingly awake. His hair was damp from a shower, curling slightly at the nape of his neck, and he wore Storm-branded workout gear that fit him well enough to be a problem.
I grunted. I didn't look up from my laces.
"Thanks for doing this," Theo continued, dropping his bag on the bench with a heavy thud. "I know you probably have better things to do than babysit a rookie, but I really appreciate it. I promise I'll work hard and—"
"Callahan."
"Yeah?"
"Less talking. More gearing up."
The kid’s smile didn't falter. If anything, it widened. "Yes, sir."
Don't call me that.
The words stuck in my throat. I finished tying my skates, snapped the laces tight, and headed for the ice without waiting.
I pushed him.
I didn't use positive reinforcement. I didn't offer encouragement. I pushed Theo the way a storm surge pushes against a levee—relentless, testing for weaknesses, looking for the point of collapse.
"Again," I barked.
Theo finished his third set of suicide sprints. His chest heaved and his face was flushed a deep, blotchy red, but he didn't complain. He just pivoted on his edges and launched himself back across the blue line.
I watched him move. Theo was fast and fluid, possessing a natural grace that most players spent years trying to manufacture. But there were gaps. He relied too much on his speed and not enough on his edges.
When Theo finished, he bent over his knees, gasping for air. Steam rose off his shoulders in the cold arena air.
I skated over. The sound of my own blades cutting the ice seemed impossibly loud in the empty building.
"Your crossovers are sloppy."
Theo straightened. He wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his glove. "I—okay. Show me?"
That was the problem with Callahan. There was no defensiveness. No ego. He offered up his flaws with an open willingness that made my defenses feel useless.
"Watch." I demonstrated the motion. I exaggerated the weight transfer and the hip rotation. "See how I’m driving through theoutside edge? You're not committing. You're hesitating because you don't trust the blade."
"I'm afraid I'll lose my balance," Theo admitted.
"You will lose your balance. That's how you learn."
Theo’s eyes lit up. "Okay. Let me try."
He attempted the crossover. He got the weight transfer wrong and stumbled.
He tried again. Better, but his hips were still closed off.
The third time, I moved without thinking.
I skated up behind Theo. I placed my gloved hands on the rookie's hips to square them to the boards.
"Here," I said. My voice came out rougher than I intended, a gravelly sound in the quiet rink. "Open up your stride. You need to drive from here."
Theo’s body shifted under my hands.
