Page 39 of From Fling to Ring

“Guys, guys, listen up,” I holler, my voice echoing in the vast rink. “I want you to line up here and show me the puck handling drill I just demonstrated. If you’d rather not and prefer to goof around, just let me know. I can get out of your hair and go home.”

My threat gets them right where it hurts, and silence falls so quickly that all you can hear is some punk kicking his skate into the ice, trying to chip it.

And… he’s busted.

“Perkins, I WARNED you about messing up the ice. Get up here, right now,” Lawson hollers.

Christ, the guy is as much a babysitter as he is a kids’ hockey coach.

Snickers ripple through the crowd and the guilty Perkins pushes through, his head hanging down.

“Give me your stick,” Lawson says.

“Oh, c’mon, Coach—” Perkins whines.

Lawson holds his hand out and the kid’s stick is handed over.

“Okay. Now go take a seat in the stands. I’ll let you know when you can come back. If you can come back.”

Defeated, Perkins, head down, skates off the ice and slumps down on a bench with a scowl on his face and his arms tightly crossed.

“Alright, guys. You heard Tyler. Get going.”

These kids might be unruly, but the last thing any of them wants in the world is to get kicked off the ice, especially when I’m here. We get our drill underway and I’m surprised at how much they’ve improved since I was here last month.

“They’re looking good, Law,” I tell my buddy.

He nods, not taking his eyes off them. “Yeah. They’re pretty amazing, if you think about it, to have these skills at their age. They’re still pains in the ass, though.”

I shake my head and laugh. “Hey, number twelve, soften your hands, you’ll have more control,” I holler across the ice.

“So who’s the chick in the stands?” Lawson asks.

I glance in Lucy’s direction and throw her a little wave. To my surprise, she looks interested in what’s happening on the ice and, from where I stand, she looks to be wearing a hockey jersey under her puffer jacket. She must have snagged one from my drawer after I left her sleeping this morning.

Ahh, this morning. I woke up with the lovely lady naked in my bed, all cuddly, warm, and bed-headed. I couldn’t have asked for more.

I was tempted to wake her for a replay of our hot session the night before, but I was already late for practice and besides, she looked so peaceful.

So, I replayed it in my head about a hundred times.

I’m gonna get her on the ice for a couple laps after this thing with the kids.

“I see you looking up there, checking on her, my man,” he chides.

“Jesus, you’re about as nosy as these ten-year-olds.”

He cups his hands around his mouth. “Keep going!” he yells at the kids. Then he slaps me on the back. “We’re just looking out for you Ty. You know that.”

I side-eye him. “Yup. That’s exactly what you are doing.”

I skate into the middle of the boys. “Good job, everybody. Now, I want to see your passing skills.”

The sound of groans, deep sighs, and the clicking of tongues surrounds me. Yeah, I know they’re tired. But tired is good.

Hell, it’s the only thing that kept me out of trouble when I was a kid. Dad brought me to the rink and while to this day he denies it, I’ve always suspected he paid the coach to ride me especially hard. It was the only way he could think to channel my overabundance of energy.

And thank God he did. My father may have his quirks, like causing fire drills when he doesn’t need to, but I owe him everything.

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