The ghost of a smile flickered across her face. “You don’t have to go easy.”
“Fair enough.” I dropped the puck between us. “Show me what you’ve got.”
She went for it, and immediately impressed the hell out of me with how sharp and accurate her passes were. Hell, they were better than half the boys on the ice. But she kept her head down, watching the puck instead of looking up, like she was afraid of making eye contact.
“Nice hands,” I told her after a particularly clean saucer pass. “You play on a team outside of camp?”
“No.” She collected the puck and passed it back. “My brother does. I just practice with him on the pond in the winter.”
“Well, your brother’s lucky. You’d make a solid linemate.”
She looked up at me with surprise in her eyes like she hadn’t expected to hear that. “You think so?”
“I know so. You’ve got great instincts. You just need to trust them.”
She nodded slowly, and when I called the group back together for the next drill, she skated into the cluster of kids instead of hovering at the edge. It was a small win but I’d take it.
I ran them through shooting drills for the last half hour, adjusting stances, correcting grips, and dodging the occasional wild shot that sailed nowhere near the net.
“Coach Liam, show us a slap shot! A hard one!” Elias called out.
A few of the other kids perked up, and I could see the parents shift closer to the glass.
“Alright. One shot. Eyes on me.”
I set a puck at the top of the left circle and took a breath, letting muscle memory take over. I wound up and ripped a slap shot that hit the top right corner with a crack that echoed through the arena. The crossbar was still vibrating when Elias lost his mind.
“That was so cool! Can you do that again?”
“That’s what practice gets you.” I tapped my stick on the ice. “Now line up. Your turn.”
What followed was eleven kids absolutely whiffing it, and it was the most entertaining half hour of my week. Mack fell on his ass mid-windup. A kid named Theo somehow shot the puck backward, which was a special kind of skill, or lack thereof. Joelle was one of the few who got solid contact with the puck actually making it to the net. It was low and wide, but she’d connected clean.
“That’s it, Joelle.” I pointed my stick at her. “See? Trust those instincts.”
She ducked her head, but I caught the grin before she hid it.
By the time noon rolled around, my voice was hoarse from three hours of calling instructions across the ice, but I was buzzing with the kind of energy only hockey gave me.
“Good work today, everyone. Same time Thursday. And Elias?—”
“I know, I know. Don’t spray people.”
“You got it.”
The kids filed off the ice toward their parents, and I stayed behind to collect pucks and stack cones. The arenawas quiet now—just the low hum of the rink’s cooling system and the scrape of my blades as I moved across the ice. Summer sunlight streamed through the high windows, cutting golden bars across the rink, and for a minute I just stood there, breathing it in.
I loved being on the ice. I’d started playing hockey because Drew had talked me into it, but it had quickly become an addiction. There was nothing like the adrenaline rush of a game.
But the slow, easy pace of coaching wasn’t too bad either. It was exciting to see young hockey players learn the game, hone their skills or learn new ones, and fall in the love with the game the same way I had. It was exciting to play a small role in the next generation of hockey lovers.
I was collecting the last of the pucks when I glanced up at the stands and found Ava sitting three rows up from the glass. Her legs were crossed and there was a brown paper bag on the seat beside her with the logo for Hugh’s sandwich shop, which was a local favorite. She was still in her dance clothes—a loose tank and fitted dance shorts—with her hair pulled back in a braid and a pair of sunglasses pushed up on her head.
She lifted her hand in a wave, and my chest tightened with longing.
I skated over to the boards, stopping in front of her section. “What are you doing here?”
“You mentioned you forgot your lunch when we were texting this morning.” She held up the bag. “I don’t teach another class until tonight.”
