Page 19 of Unsteady

“I think I got it!” Liam shouts, slamming down again as his stick spins away with the puck.

I smile, skating over to scoop him up and hold his arms while he tries to steady his blades underneath his little body.

Volunteering again had originally been my mom’s idea, after hearing my dad pester me each morning about skating together. That, and—as she told me, having to distract him each morning so he didn’t follow me.

I adamantly requested no details of said distraction. My parents have always been affectionate enough to make me sick on a normal basis.

So now, I tensely skate with Liam, desperately trying to ignore my father’s stare from the other side of the rink. He’s helping the older kids, which means he’s with Oliver, so I can’t help but checking on them both.

My father, tall and strong, is still very much the NHL star player he was before retirement, minus the gray now lining his dark hair and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Just like any time he’s been on the ice with me, he’s smiling as he works with the players on pivot drills around two bright orange cones.

I maneuver Liam so he’s holding the low side pocket of my joggers, before offering my hand after removing my glove.

A loud laugh bursts from the circle waiting on the drill space, alerting me to the group of preteen boys surrounding Oliver.

He’s slightly tall for his age, but mostly from what I’ve seen in the last hour of distracted teaching, Oliver is gifted. Like good enough to be watched by the line of coaches chatting on the side of the rink.

“Oh no,” Liam mutters, sighing like a mother exhausted over her disobedient child.

“What? Oliver?”

Liam nods, looking up at me and releasing my hand. “Yeah. He fights with those boys sometimes—the ones in the red jerseys.”

“He doesn’t like them?”

“They don’t always come here. Only when they’re with their dad I think. Oliver doesn’t like anyone, but he reallyreallydoesn’t like them.”

The kid is observant, I realize. I have to stop myself from asking him to tell me everything he can remember about his older sister.

“Do you know why?”

“Not really.” He sighs again, mimicking my pose with his arms crossed. “But one time I was playing sharks and minnows with everyone and Coach Chelsea, and I heard them talking about Sadie.”

My stomach sours as I watch Oliver toss his gloves off and tackle one of the kids. I want to start cheering and whistling like I’m watching his first NHL fight, but I manage to keep myself in check.

Instead, I tell Liam to hold onto the boards while I skate over and insert myself between them.

“Back it up,” I snap, easily yanking them apart. “Calm down.”

My dad tries to hold Oliver’s shoulder but he yanks himself away like he’s been burned.

“Don’t touch me, asshole.”

I blow out a breath.Jesus, this kid.

“Calm down, Oliver,” I try, my voice a little softer as I keep a hold of the red shirt kid’s collar.

Oliver’s heated stare shoots to mine, again like a caged animal ready to scratch. He looks like Sadie, defensive and punchy.

“They started it,” he spits out, anger rolling off him in waves. But I can see the vulnerability in his gaze begging for me to believe him.

“I know,” I say camly, releasing the other kid with a shove towards my dad. “Let Coach Max deal with them. Let’s go cool off.”

Something flickers in his eyes, before he sighs and drops his head. “Okay,” he says and follows me towards where Liam is now lying flat on the ice.

The session is nearly over, but I take a corner of the rink for the three of us, dragging Liam around as I correct Oliver’s edges.

It isn’t until my father joins us that I realize the rink is cleared.

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