Page 42 of Crack the Ice

“Keep your hips down. If you’re going sideways and running into your teammates, you’re not pushing evenly with both feet. Either adjust your stride, or the force in which you’re pushing off with your dominant leg.”

There are a few guys that aren’t getting it, so I physically pull their hips down and back with the blade of my stick. “You don’t usually skate long distances backward, if you can’t even handle short distances in this position, you need to be doing wall sits at home.”

I run them through this drill a few more times before we move on to skating around the faceoff circles. I remember so clearly how my coach taught me. We played cat and mouse. If we got away from him, we got pizza. Boys are easy to motivate when food is involved. And in true Cecilia fashion, she sent my sister up here with multiple boxes of goodies. Whether that’s because her brother is here, or because we had a moment of peace earlier, I don’t know, but I’m going to take it as an olive branch. The thought alone makes me fight to keep a smile off my face.

“Alright, listen up,” I yell before blowing the whistle. Both groups of guys come together, with Monroe, Sammy, and me at center ice. “We’re going to play a game.” I skate to the line, pulling Sammy with me to put him where I want him. “Two at a time, you’re going to start at center ice, skate around the goal and back. No sticks.”

I move in front of Sammy with my back to the goal I just pointed to. “However, one of you will be skating backward. If you turn around and try to get away, you’ll drop where you are and give us ten pushups.” Collective groans fill the air, making the three of us smile. “If you get away successfully, I have it on good authority that there’s some kind of dessert from The Penalty Box waiting for you.”

Sammy’s eyes widen as he looks around for his sister. I love the relationship they have these days. They’ve always been close, but I think that in his own grief, he kept her at arm’s length without even realizing it. “Cecy’s here?”

“No, Lana came by earlier and dropped a bunch of stuff off, left it on the bleachers.” I nod my head to where the pink bags are sitting. “Did you ask Cecy to do that?”

He shakes his head, and my olive branch hope grows a little bit more. “Well, guess we’ll see what she brought later then,” I say, bending at my hips and wiggling my eyebrows at him. “Catch me, asshole.”

I push off my right foot, looking over my shoulder, to make sure I’m not going to hit anything as I fly down the ice toward the goal. His booming laugh bounces off the boards. The sound of ice being carved by his skates gets more intense the faster he pushes himself. I look in front of me, cutting and rolling at the last second. Sammy’s huge, a good four inches taller than me, and I’m six-two, but sometimes, I get to use his size to my advantage. It takes him a bit longer to change directions.

“You motherfu–” he growls, and I turn again.

The boys are now slapping their sticks against the ice, cheering for either me to get away, or for him to catch me. We’re both laughing and winded by the time we make it back to the line.

“My turn!” Monroe yells, skating up to the line. “Cade, come on buddy.” He taps his stick on the opposite side of the red line, telling Cade where to stop.

The kid is a freaking bullet. He and Monroe are honestly evenly matched in speed, but Monroe can get himself out of the stickiest situations in ways I will never understand. “Fifty bucks if you catch him,” I whisper to Cade, as I skate behind him.

“Keep your weight even and watch his feet. Stay loose.”

“You giving him all my secrets, Daddy Reed?” he chides, and I stare blankly at him. You’d think the nickname would have worn off by now, but no, having Cade and Lily just made it worse.

“Alright, ready?” They both nod. Cade bends at the hips a bit, eyes locked in on Monroe. I know Monroe won’t go easy on him, but he won’t embarrass him either.

I raise my hand and blow the whistle. It’s silent for all of half a second, and then they’re off. Cade does exactly what I told him, he watches Monroe’s feet. The ice breaks out into whoops and cheers mixed with some colorful language.

I stand in the corner with a soft smile on my face, watching as Monroe loops his arm around Cade’s neck, both of them with matching smiles on their faces. The kid was close, but Monroe pulled away right at the end.

When was the last time I saw Cade smile like that? When he was at Cecy’s house. Fuck, I’ve got to figure out some way to get her around them more.

“That was awesome,” I say, holding up my fists so he can bump them. “You’re dangerous, man.”

He nods, the corner of his lip ticking up slightly. “Thanks, learned from the best.”

I slow to a stop as he jumps into the back of the line. He learned from us. Monroe and I have been coaching him since Hannah got him hooked up with The Foundation years ago. The thought pulls a smile from me, and I have to stop and think if this is what a proud dad would feel like. Fuck, I’m getting soft.

“Alright, let’s go.” I blow the whistle, and the next group takes off. Some of them try to pull the same moves me, Sammy, and Monroe did, and end up flat on the ice, which makes it that much more entertaining. The thing I love most about playing like this, though, is the friendly competition. There’s no hostility, no pissing contest. Everyone is trying to outmaneuver the other, but it doesn’t really matter who wins, they’re just having fun.

Some of them get together to talk strategy, while others practice their backward motion on the other half of the ice before getting back in line. “Think they know this is a trick?”

I look over my shoulder at Monroe, who’s standing with his arms crossed, his hair down and hanging to his shoulders today. “I mean, how many times have we tried to get them to skate backward without them moaning and groaning about it? Now, it’s like they’re talking out a battle plan.”

I huff out a laugh, watching them do just that. Sammy skates up on my other side, leaning over and whispering, “How do we get them to come together like this off the ice?”

I swear, half the game of hockey is teambuilding. If you don’t jive with your team off the ice, it’s hard to mesh on it, which gives me a fantastic idea. “Next week, let’s change it up. Make them watch Toy Story in the film room. We’ll get a bunch of pizza.”

Sammy knocks into my shoulder with his own. “You’re diabolical, Cap.”

“A good cry and pizza? I’m down.” Monroe shrugs.

That right there is the point. Cry together, win together. Or whatever the saying is.