Page 69 of Daring the Defender

“That’s not true,” Reid crosses his arms over his chest. “I totally do the dishes.”

“Once,” I remind him. “Onetime you did the dishes after I cooked dinner.”

We stare at one another, both of us on the verge of cracking a smile, until the sound of the buzzer cuts across the ice, breakingour eye contact. Coach Bryant is encouraging everyone to move to the middle.

“You coming?” Reid asks.

I look down at my feet, the skates pointed inward as I barely hold myself upright, and shake my head. “Not a chance. But you guys have fun. I’ll happily watch from the stands and get some hot chocolate.”

They skate off as I wobble my way back off the ice, but Ronnie darts out on her own, making a swooping loop past me. It’s on her way back to her family that I hear her say, just a bit loud, “I like her. Better than Darla.”

I glance up just in time to catch Reid reply back, “Yeah, I do too.”

The event is incredible.Seeing the excitement on the kids’ faces as they both learn a new skill and just have fun is worth sitting on the hard bench all afternoon. I’m not really familiar with kids that come from troubled backgrounds. In that respect, I’ve lived a pretty charmed life. My parents may be overprotective and demanding, but there was always a sense of security. These kids don’t have that, and there’s a shadow of guardedness lurking in their eyes. The guys do everything they can to make them feel at ease. That, I understand. Just like Axel and his roommates have done their best to make me feel comfortable.

It’s not long before some of the younger kids tire out and make their way off the ice. Twyler and the other trainers tend to a few scrapes and bumps down by the players bench. A couple of older teens remain on the ice, their skill level higher, and I realize that they’ve started a game of shootout with my brother.

Axel is positioned in the middle of the goal, body covered in pads, egging on the kids as they each attempt to make a shot. He’s not easy on them. Easily knocking most of the shots out of the way, and slowly there’s a crowd of players and kids circling the area, cheering on Axel’s competitor. After each attempt, Axel calls the kid over and talks to them.

“What is he saying?” I ask Nadia, who tired out quickly and joined me on the bleachers.

“No idea.”

“He’s giving them pointers.” We both turn and come face to face with Reid’s mother.

“You’re Reid’s mom, right?” Nadia asks.

“I am.” She not only has on the purple jersey, she has a button on the front with a picture of Reid in uniform.

“I’m Nadia, Axel’s girlfriend and this is Shelby, his sister.”

“Oh Axel,” Mrs. Wilder beams. “That boy may look rough on the outside, with all the tattoos and piercings, but he’s really a teddy bear underneath.”

Nadia laughs happily. “Right? He tries to act so tough, but he’s the most kind and generous guy I know.”

I know these things about my brother, but it’s hard to reconcile it over the past few years while we’ve been separated. I’ve felt so isolated at home. Lonely. And when I saw him, there was no mistaking his disappointment in the direction my life was headed. He always wanted me to do more, but when it comes down to it, I’m not sure that’s true.

“The time they give to this, even though it seems minimal, has the potential to be life altering.” She gestures to the ice and it’s obvious now that the guys aren’t just standing around watching, they’re all engaged with the younger boys and girls. “Coming to this event was how Reid got his introduction to hockey. He picked it up quickly.”

“Was he also always a gifted artist?” I ask, unable to help myself from finding out more about her son.

“He was. That skill was innate, but holing up in his room with a sketchpad wasn’t enough for him. He needed to move around and work out some of that energy. He also needed to be part of a team.”

“It sounds like you gave him a lot of opportunities.”

She shrugs, eyes focused on her son down on the ice. “Other than providing a safe home, it’s one of the most important things a parent can give a child.” She looks back at me. “I’m sure your parents sacrificed for Axel to get to this level.”

“Uh, not really,” I admit. “We’re from Texas and my father is a minister. He primarily wanted us involved in church activities. Football or baseball would have been acceptable, I guess, but hockey? Ax figured that out on his own.”

She studies me for a long moment. “I guess that explains his determination.”

My parents provided the home part, but not the opportunity. If it wasn’t in alignment with their priorities, then they weren’t interested.

The buzzer blares from the speakers and there’s an announcement that the concession stand is open. That gets the rest of the kids and the team off the ice to remove their gear.

The next hour is a blur of pizza, hotdogs, and nachos. The kids’ laughter is infectious and I can’t keep my eyes off of Reid, following his movements as he immerses himself in these children. Antsy, I do what I do best, moving between the tables, grabbing discarded plates and cups. I always feel most steady when I’m doing something with my hands. I’m juggling a pile when a sharp, earsplitting whistle cuts through the chatter and all eyes move to where Reese stands at the front of the group.

“Now that we’re fed and warmed up, Coach Bryant said we could go on a tour of the locker and screening room,” he says,“but you need to finish cleaning up whatever trash you have left, and then go thank Shelby for doing the majority of it already.”

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