Page 80 of Taking Sides

They nod.

“Oh, and one more thing. It has to hit the crossbar and drop in to count.” I blow the whistle.

“That was fun,” Grady says as the boys are filing off the ice. They’re slower to leave, talking to each other about the shoot-out, bragging about how many they made or how close they got.

“Yeah. It was.”

“But I’m not sure how it’s going to help them get the necessary skills to be competitive.”

“Me either,” I confess. “But I’d rather them leave here happy and still enjoying the game than dreading the next practice.”

“It doesn’t matter how they feel. It matters that they’re willing to put in the work.”

“I don’t agree.”

“You’re new to this,” he says like it’s my inexperience that’s making me idealize this situation. Maybe it is.

“Even so, I’d like to keep doing things like this with them in practice.”

He winces.

“A few minutes each day. That’s all I’m asking for. And if it doesn’t make a difference by the playoffs, then I’ll drop it.”

He nods his agreement, but still looks unconvinced. “Fine, but regular practice comes first and you get whatever time is left after we’ve gone through our planned routine.”

It isn’t much, but I’ll take it.

Speaking of dreading things . . .

My flight to Houston arrives early. We made great time according to the pilot, who sounded very happy with himself about this. But since I’m already a ball of anxiety about seeing my dad, I would have been perfectly content taxiing to the gate a little longer.

It’s just after noon, local time. I roll my carry-on to baggage claim and look for the driver Victor sent, but it’s my brother who’s waiting for me.

“I thought you’d be at practice,” I say, stepping to him and lifting my arms to circle his neck.

“I have a break until three.” He hugs me loosely, then takes my suitcase from me.

In his car, I roll down the window and let the sun hit my face. Victor shoots me an amused smirk.

“I missed this. It’s already freezing in Montana.”

“It was eighty here last week.”

I stick my tongue out at him. There’s something about being in my brother’s presence that always turns me into a petulant child. And I love to see him lighten up a bit, which he does by rolling his eyes at me and then returning the gesture.

When we get to his house, I’m hit with a sense of nostalgia. I never lived here, but I spent so much time here, I feel a sense of ownership to it anyway. Victor goes around to the back of his car to get my suitcase, but I rush inside to see Bella.

She greets me with a wag of her tail that makes her entire body wiggle and a whimper of excitement. I drop to the floor in front of her. She crowds my face and licks my cheek while I scratch behind her floppy, gray ears. She has a stripe of white between her eyes that goes down her nuzzle.

“Oh, I missed you,” I say to her. “And you smell so nice. Did you have a bath this morning?”

She looks up from me only to watch as her owner rolls my bag to the bottom of the stairs, then returns to giving me all her attention.

It’s cold in the house. Victor prefers it that way. Sixty-four degrees, year-round.

“The fridge is stocked, and the guest room is ready for you,” he says.

“You have a guest room?” I ask.