Page 59 of Tangled with the Tight End

“You know I don’t know the first thing about hockey….” I steal a glance at him. “Right?”

“Yep.” He directs me out onto the ice. “But you know athletes and gamesmanship, and it’s not that different from football.”

“Fine,” I grumble and join him on the ice. Norah is keeping Gino while I watch Marco coach his hockey team. A blue-colored bird swoops down through the sky and dives back up before getting too close. We’re likely disturbing her home, and she’d like nothing better than for us to disappear so she can return to bed.

“Guys.” Marco rests his hand on the shoulder of one of the boys. There are 12 boys, all around 12 to 14 years old. Some still have baby-fat faces, while others are showing signs of more permanent cheekbones. “He’s going to take the six of you….” Hepoints to the grouping that’s on the right, and I’m going to lead Jack’s team.”

What in the fuck? “Marco, I don’t–”

“You’ve seen hockey before.”

“Yeah, a few times, but we grew up in Texas. It’s not like we played hockey on the ponds down there.”

“You’ll be fine.” One of the older boys with bright green eyes shoves his gloves on tighter. The edges of the gloves overlap his jacket by several inches. “We’ve been playing since we were four.” He shoves out his covered hand. “By the way, my name is Aiden.”

“Nice to meet you.” I study him for a second as the other kids gather around. He’s clearly the leader of this group. His eyes are sharp as he looks me over. “You Coach Marco’s brother?”

“Yes, my name is Gabriel.”

One corner of his mouth jerks upward. “You’re the tight end for Kansas City.”

“Yes.” I nod.

“We also play football during the summer and fall. I’m the QB, and Henley here….” He points out another boy who’s wearing a red coat and black gloves. “He’s the tight end for the team.”

“Coach Marco also coaches our football team. He didn’t want anything to do with hockey, but we begged him to coach us. Our last coach didn’t know a hockey puck from a football.”

The boys brief me about the rules and strategy for several minutes, leaving my head swirling. But honestly, it’s not that different than football. Well, maybe mixing football and basketball together, only the puck stays on the ground.

Basically, there’s one scoring device players pass back and forth to each other. While avoiding the opposition from stealing the puck and trying to get it into the opponent’s net. Nothing hard about that.

Marco leans down and whispers something to his team, and I grin. We may not be playing the same sport as we played as kids, but I know my brother’s tendencies.

“Gather in,” I tell the guys. They lean in, reducing the distance from each other. “My brother is predictable. He’s going to try to take the puck straight to you and shove it down your throat. He’s always been a brute player. If his team gets the ball,” I roll my eyes, “the puck first, take the puck away from the lead player.”

“Got it, Coach,” Aiden says as they all nod in unison.

“If we get the puck first, Aiden, I need you to come in from the side, swat the puck to Henley, and pass it back and forth amongst whoever can get into range, going closer but not too close to the net. We’re going to pass until we get within striking distance.”

Aiden grins from ear to ear. “You know your brother well. We’re known for shoving the puck down the opponent’s throat.”

“Good.” I chuckle and pat Aiden’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what we played. He always thought he could out-strength me, but I could always outmaneuver him.”

Moments later, the players take the center of the ice as my brother, and I regroup on the edge near the snow-covered grass. “You’re going down.” He elbows me. Obviously, he feels confident that he has the upper hand.

“Not so fast.”

The hocking sticks smack at the ice as my brother’s team slashes down the middle of the pond. Aiden swipes the puck, just as I instructed. “Damn you.” Marco glares.

“Watch it, little brother.”

“Screw you.” His eyes narrow into slits as Aiden leads the team down the ice swishing the puck back and forth between them.

“Jack!” Marco yells from beside me. “Get between Henley and Aiden, he’s going to shoot the puck back to–”

But before the words are out, Henley swats the puck, slamming it into the net, past the goalie.

“Baby brother….” I clutch his shoulder with a wide grin, splitting my face. “You might want to branch out your playbook.”

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