I consider that. On the one hand, Iamworking myself into a full-on depresh mode, but on the other, I don’t know how going back to that place is going to make it any better. Before I can really consider, another text comes through.
Ian:It will be good for you. Plus, you owe me for stealing my sister.
Me:REALLY. That’s the card you want to play?
Ian:I didn’t steal Lila. She came willingly.
Me:please do not ever talk to me about my sister and coming
Ian:You’re a very sick man. Now you’re definitely coming.
Me:always the coming with you
Ian:Jack.
Me:ugh fine. but you’re picking me up.
Ian:Be there in fifteen.
Me:fine fine
Ugh. So much for my very important plans of becoming one with my couch today. I run my fingers through my hair, grateful that I had the foresight to shower this morning, at least. I’m not keen on going back to St. Michael’s, something I would never tell Dee, considering that her annual play day is so important to her, but it’s definitely not a place I would go to by choice.
And here I am, about to head back there.
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.
I have to admit, aday with the kid is just what the doctor ordered.
I watch as Ian walks him through one of our simpler plays, taking time to get on Kyle’s level, to really explain every step. Theintensity in his face is adorable; he’s only like eight years old, but the way he’s listening to Ian’s explanations with a furrow between his brows, you’d think he was a full drafted player.
“Next we’re going to try some chute angling,” Ian says. He glances over at me. “Can you help with this one?”
I nod, skating over and dragging the net below the face-off circle on the goal line.
Ian raises a brow at me. “You want to explain it?”
“Me?”
He nods. “You’re the one that always loves to play coach. Might as well keep the legacy alive.”
My eyes flick down to Kyle, who is now staring atmeintently, and despite his small stature, the kid sort of intimidates me. He’s just so damned serious-looking.
“Sure,” I say finally. I skate over to the goal, tapping at the bar with my gloved hand. “So the point of this drill is to help you practice deceptive retrievals.”
Kyle’s face scrunches up. “What is that?”
“It just means you get to be sneaky,” Ian chimes in.
I nod. “Ian is going to stand over there with his stick, and I’m going to shoot the puck toward it. After it’s loose, I want you to try to retrieve it before I get to it. You’re the defender, which means you’re going to want to angle your body away from the center line and try to get it back toward your goal. Get it toward the boards if you have to.”
“You’re a bajillion times bigger than me,” Kyle scoffs. “How am I supposed to keep the puck away from you?”
“It’s not about your size,” I tell him. “Not always. That’s what this drill is about. Sometimes it’s about your speed and deception skills.”
Kyle looks unconvinced as we line up the drill, but determined all the same. I line up in front of him, ready to slap the puck toward Ian’s waiting stick just down the way, giving it a tap that’s just a little softer than I usually would, wanting to give Kyle a better chance at getting to it.
Kyle is off the second the puck starts to glide across the ice, and the second it bounces off Ian’s stick, he’s there, grappling for it with his own stick, which almost seems too big for his tiny body. I move toward him like I’m going to intercept, but he turns his body, skating in a full circle to try to slap it in the opposite direction. It ends up getting away from him to slide uselessly down the opposite side of the rink, and then his feet get away from him as well, causing him to drop down on his butt on the ice.
