Page 72 of Taking Sides

“Not bad,” D-Low says, and accepts his stick back from Landon.

His shot is low, finding the back of the net, but narrowly missing the crossbar.

We take turns, the three of us, until I get the first ring of the pipe. It bounces out, so it doesn’t technically count, but it’s the closest I’ve come.

Landon’s loosened up now. He looks more sure of himself, but beyond that he seems to be having fun. I am too.

“This is it,” D-Low announces as he lines up in front of the net. “I can feel it.”

“You said that the last three times,” Landon chirps back.

I chuckle. “He’s calling your bluff.”

D-Low fires, more powerful than his last attempts, and this one hits the crossbar and falls into the net. He flashes a grin my way. “Unfortunately for our new friend Landon here, he had no way to know that people telling me I can’t do something only makes me work harder to prove myself.”

“So you’d say I inspired you to hit that shot, then?” Landon asks, still smirking.

D-Low joins me, laughing at the kid. He’s a real spitfire when he comes out of his shell.

“Why am I not surprised to find the three of you still out here?” Whitney asks, stepping onto the ice. She looks at Landon. “Is your ride here?”

“Uh . . . they were running late, but I should probably check again.”

Whitney nods. “I’m happy to drop you somewhere, if needed.”

“No. That’s okay. It isn’t far.” He walks quickly to the bench and picks up his duffel bag. He shifts, not quite making eye contact. “Thank you. That was fun.”

“For us too,” I tell him honestly.

“Good luck on your season,” D-Low calls out to him.

“Thanks.” He tips his head in our direction, then turns and heads out of view.

“What was that all about?” Whitney asks us.

“Just playing around,” I say.

“I haven’t seen him that excited since the beginning of the season.” Whitney frowns.

I step forward and take her hand, threading our fingers together, while D-Low skates off to the bench and unties his skates.

“Are you all done here?” I squeeze her hand lightly.

“Yeah. Finally. Sorry it took so long. Do you still have time to grab a drink?”

“I have all the time you want.”

EIGHTEEN

“That was really nice of you both,” I say as Danny, Conrad, and I sit at a corner table in some tiny dive bar I’ve never heard of. Danny and Conrad got the appropriate ogling when we first came in, but the crowd is young and just self-obsessed enough that no one is really paying us much attention now that we’re seated.

“It was fun,” Danny says, Conrad nodding along. “You should have heard him razzing me.”

“I wish I could get that sort of excitement from the boys at practice.” Or honestly, even a fraction of it. Landon looked so happy and carefree, and I saw him shoot from center line. It was good. He was better while he was loose and having fun.

“Why can’t you?” Danny asks.

“I don’t think Grady would go for it. He’s convinced the kids need more situational work. Now probably more than ever. We’re doing a lot of high-tempo small-area games.” I can’t believe how badly tonight’s game went. Emotions are high, and the number one feeling is disgust.