“Vivian with the friendship bracelets for the win,” I mutter, pushing off and letting the drill run.
Who would have thought it? Team bonding. Actually working. I shake my head, still watching them. Didn’t have that on my bingo card.
“Okay,” I call, watching them move as a unit now. “Better. Way better.”
And it is. They’re faster now. Talking more. Still arguing, but it rolls off them instead of shutting everything down. By the time I call them in, I’m not even pretending.
“Great practice,” I say. “And I mean it.”
A few grins. One kid fist-pumps like she just made the Olympic team, while Hannah smirks. I’m starting to like her style, or at least lose some of the initial fear I had of her. Would not want to cross her in an alley late at night, let me tell you.
“Keep working on your passing. Heads up, not down. Andcommunication. You’ve got them so use your voices for something other than arguing with each other.”
“That’s boring,” someone mutters.
“Yeah, well, welcome to teamwork,” I manage, biting back my own laugh. “Great job, see you all Thursday. Same time, same rink. Don’t forget everything we just did.”
“No promises!” someone calls, already skating off.
“I am loving your honesty,” I shoot back.
The group breaks and after-practice chaos begins—parents, bags, someone yelling about a missing water bottle, a kid dramatically face-down on her hockey bag like she’s been through a war.
I’m grabbing my water when I feel my skin tingle. Nope, that’s too kind. It’s more of a light crawl, one that happens when you know someone is standing right there. Right behind you. It’s that specific awareness of someone standing just a little too close.
I turn around and my point is proven.
“Ty,” she says, smiling. “I’m Ava’s mother.”
Ah. “Mrs. Callahan, right?”
“Danielle,” she corrects, her voice breathy and hopeful as she steps closer.
Right. Danielle. Danielle’s top is…low.
Very low.
I take a breath, gearing myself, when a twinkle of something pulls my attention down. I’m pretty sure I see…no. No way.
Is that glitter?
Has the girl’s mother shown up at the rink to pick up her daughter with glitter all over her chest? The moment the wordchestfills my mind, I drag my eyes up because all I can think is,there’s glitter on them there boobs and I don’t want to look, but also I don’t want to judge. She could be headed somewhere that requires glitter to accent her—what does Emma call it? Her decolletage?
So, we’re just gonna look at her face. Face is good. Face is safe.
“I just wanted to talk to you about practice,” she says, taking a step closer to me.
“Sure,” I respond, taking a tiny step away from her. Two can do this tango. “What’s up?”
“I noticed Ava wasn’t getting as much ice time today. I thought after our talk the other day, she would?”
“We’re rotating more right now,” I say. “Trying to build different skills across the group.”
“Mmm,” she hums, like that’s not a completely normal explanation. “She really thrives with more one-on-one attention.”
I have no idea what that means in a hockey context, and I’m not going to find out.
“Got it,” I say. “I’ll keep an eye on that.”
