No explanation. No argument offered back. No room to wrestle.
Jace stared at me for half a second, frustration bright in his face. Then he turned and skated back into position.
He did the rep again.
Correctly.
Roman’s mask tilted in the crease. Milo looked disappointed there would be no show. Lowell looked relieved.
I kept my voice level. “Again.”
They ran it. Jace stayed in support until the touch came clean, then released. The timing opened, and the puck moved through the neutral zone the way it was supposed to.
I blew the whistle. “That’s it. Next group.”
Jace coasted past the boards, breathing hard. His gaze flicked to mine and away again, fast enough that someone else might have missed it.
I didn’t.
At the water break, Roman drifted beside him. I was close enough to hear without trying.
“Since when do you listen the first time?” Roman asked.
Jace pulled the top off his bottle with too much force. “Since always.”
Roman gave him a long look.
“What?” Jace snapped.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
“It was observation.”
“Observe someone else.”
Roman took a slow drink, eyes still on him. “Sure.”
He skated away, but not far. Roman Vega didn’t hover. He stationed himself where he could see the exits.
I respected him for that.
The rest of practice went well. Not perfect. Perfect was useless as a standard. But Jace kept returning to the instruction faster than before. He still tested edges because that was how he navigated the world. He still forgot to rotate out once because he got caught talking through a read with Lowell and missed the next whistle. He still shoved Milo in the shoulder when Milo called him “teacher’s pet,” and I had to tell both of them to move before they wasted everyone’s time.
But when I said stop, he stopped.
When I said again, he went.
That should not have felt as significant as it did.
After practice, I found Tiny in the hallway outside the locker room, sitting like a mountain in the middle of traffic. Olivia had sent me three pictures from home that morning of him pressed against her legs while she drank coffee, declaring him “emotionally healed.” Apparently healing had lasted until the moment I brought him to the rink because the dog walker’s kid had a fever.
Tiny ignored Lowell’s attempt at affection. He tolerated Benny scratching his ears. He turned his head away from Milo with majestic disrespect.
Then Jace came out.
Tiny rose so fast Benny had to dodge the leash.
