Page 60 of King

And damn… he smells so good.

“Hey yourself, Coach King,” I reply with a grin, muffled against his chest. We pull back slightly, and he plants a lingering kiss on my lips. For a moment, it feels like we’re in our own little world… until Brittany’s voice breaks through.

“Get a room you two!” she exclaims playfully, making us both laugh. She stands a few feet away, holding Izzy’s tiny hand. The little girl bounces with excitement, bundled up in her Ice Pups jersey.

I let out a chuckle. “You’re just jealous,” I tease my sister.

“You bet I am,” she replies with a good-natured grin.

King breaks away to step out onto the ice, his confidence in walking on it far greater than mine. I stay at the boards as he rounds up the kids who are currently skating in chaotic circles.Among them, I easily spot Theo McVey with his bright green helmet, flashing a wide, toothy grin as he skates effortlessly. His father is in the stands, a booming voice that carries over the din of excited chatter. He shouts out instructions to his son and I turn to look at him with unease.

“Stick down, Theo! Keep your eyes on the puck!” he bellows, his tone still friendly despite its volume. He’s bundled in a puffy jacket and a red cap pulled low over his eyes.

King also turns to look at him and then exchanges a look with me. I know he’s poised to shut the man down if necessary but right now, he’s abiding by the rules.

The referee signals warm-ups are over and King calls all the kids to us. “Okay, team, let’s huddle up!” The kids stumble and slide toward us, forming a disjointed circle.

King turns to me and sweeps his hands toward the kids. “Coach Willa has a few things to say.”

I panic, completely blanking on the stuff we practiced and what we’re supposed to focus on. I glare at King and he smirks.

Squaring my shoulders, I remind myself these are little kids and I surely can come up with some sort of inspirational speech. “All right, so, uh, remember what we practiced?” I begin, racking my brain for the few basic drills we attempted. “We’re going to, um, focus on… passing the puck! Yes, passing the puck. To each other. Got it?”

King snorts and covers his face so I don’t see him laughing. The kids nod, their faces a mix of confusion and excitement. I glance at Brittany in the stands, who gives me an encouraging thumbs-up. Taking a deep breath, I continue, “And, uh, don’t forget to… skate toward the other team’s goal. That’s where we want to score.”

“Coach Willa,” one little boy pipes up, “which one is their goal again?”

I point to the net on the far side of the rink. “That one over there. Remember, the one with the red paint.”

The referee blows the whistle to signal the start of the game. I pat the kids on their helmets. “Okay, go get ’em, team!”

As the kids skate off, King leans toward me. “Great job, Coach.”

“Thanks for hanging me out to dry,” I mutter.

“I’d never do that,” he replies with a wink. “I had all the confidence in the world in you, but damn… you were so cute flubbing through that.”

I roll my eyes and move over to the bench. King steps in and chooses the first set of kids to head out to play.

It’s clear that both teams are filled with eager but inexperienced players. The Ice Pups zoom around with wild abandon while the Little Lightning team struggles to even stay upright on their skates. Some kids are skating in the wrong direction while others are tripping over their own sticks or simply chasing each other around instead of focusing on the game. It’s the cutest damn thing and I can’t see how taking on this project has been a bad thing at all.

I watch in a mix of horror and amusement as they try to execute King’s instructions. Izzy manages to get hold of the puck but immediately trips over it, landing in a heap. Another player, Timmy, skates over and tries to help her up but ends up falling himself, their sticks clattering against the ice.

Meanwhile, Ella skates in circles near the center, completely oblivious to the game. She’s singing a song to herself, her pigtails bouncing with each stride.

“Ella! Over here!” I call out, waving my arms. She looks up, grins and gives a big thumbs-up before resuming her skating routine.

The puck somehow finds its way to Max, who gets so excited that he starts skating toward the wrong goal. “Max! Otherway!” I shout, trying to redirect him. He stops, looks around confusedly, and then spins in place, unsure of which direction to go.

As the period progresses, the kids’ antics only become more endearing. There’s a moment when the puck slides slowly past the opposing team’s goal, and all the kids from both teams gather around it, staring down like it’s a strange alien object.

“All right, team, let’s tighten up our passing!” King calls out in an attempt to get them to concentrate. “Look at your target. Johnny, stay low! Great job with that pass, Carrie!”

The children eagerly listen to King’s coaching, their eyes lighting up under his reassuring words. His positive energy envelops them, making them feel confident and enthusiastic about learning.

However, Theo’s father is becoming increasingly agitated. “Come on, Theo! That’s not the right way to do it!” His voice grows louder with each mistake his son makes, his frustration clear to all.

“Great effort, Theo! Keep trying!” I cheer from the sidelines, clapping in encouragement.

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