Page 65 of My Pucked Up Enemy

Ethan laughs. “Petty. I respect it.”

James and Parker wobble through their turn with more noise than grace, James shrieking, "Don't drop me, man! If I fall on my ass, I’m kicking your ass straight into next season!" and Parker mumbling, "If I let go, it’s for character development."

Across the mats, Connor and Mikey are already arguing over who’s heavier while Dillon calls out directions like a coach hyped on caffeine. I keep moving between pairs, offering the occasional cue or sarcastic jab.

“Who’s guiding who here?” I ask, watching James spin in a full circle.

“I’m giving Parker a chance to see life from my perspective,” he yells.

Parker rolls his eyes. “Your perspective is dizzying.”

Alex hesitates just a second before he lets himself fall. Ethan catches him clean, and Alex claps him on the back without a word.

"Nice job you two!" I say with encouragement.

Next, we head out onto the ice. The cones are already set up. The guys laugh when I pull out blindfolds.

“You’re kidding,” Connor says.

“Not even a little,” I reply. “Your partner will guide you. With words. No touching. No peeking.”

Parker’s guiding James. “Alright, forward. Little left—no, your other left, nimrod!”

“I’m trusting you with my life and I’m thinking that you don’t know left from right,” James grumbles.

Laughter echoes across the ice. The guys stumble, bump cones, and curse, but slowly, they improve.

Alex and Ethan again move like a unit. Calm, efficient. I call out their smooth execution, pointing out how well they read each other. "That's what we’re aiming for, gentlemen. Timing, instinct, trust. That kind of synergy translates straight to the ice."

Then I glance over at Parker and James, who just collided into the final cone with all the grace of a cartoon car crash. James is flailing, Parker’s cursing under his breath.

“Now, this,” I say, gesturing to their tangled skates, “this is what happens when communication fails. On the ice, it’s a broken play. In real life? Broken ribs.”

James scowls. “You trying to say I’m the weak link?”

“I’m saying,” I smile sweetly, “if you don’t figure out how to speak the same language as your teammate, you're gonna keep running into trouble. And not just in drills.”

When we finish, I gather them in a circle. “Final challenge,” I say. “Rapid response huddle. I toss out a scenario, and you give me your instinctive reaction. No overthinking.”

“You’re down two goals with three minutes left. What do you say to your team?”

James pops off first. “Get your heads outta your asses.”

“Motivational,” I deadpan.

Connor cuts in. “Let’s reset. Tighten the defense. One shift at a time.”

“Textbook,” Coach nods.

Alex chimes in. “Ref’s not calling it? Play cleaner. Stay smart.”

That one earns a few nods and a grin from me. "Alright," I say, raising a brow, "let's up the stakes." I glance around the circle and toss out a new challenge. "You're heading into overtime after blowing a three-goal lead. You've got sixty seconds with your team before the puck drops. What do you say?"

James doesn’t miss a beat. "First, I ask who forgot how to play defense. Then I tell them it’s time to shut up and show up."

I blink. "I… wow. Okay. That’s actually decent."

Coach chuckles behind me. "That might be the first thing he's said all season I don't want to fine him for."

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