Wild Zone (Rough Riders Hockey 4)

Tate asked Derek. “What part of “no questionable lyrics” didn’t you understand, dude?”

Derek just shot him that mischievous smile and shrugged.

“I’ll let you get away with it this time.” He pushed into his skates. “Anybody else tries it, you’re all getting pushups. Let’s go, guys. Impress me.”

Tate slid down the ice backwards, creating a smooth, slow stroke of his blades for the kids to follow. “Push and cross, push and cross, Derek go.”

Derek turned and followed, then the rest of the kids followed a few feet apart.

“Heads up,” Beckett called. “Toby, eyes on the wall not on the ice. Jason, keep your stick centered and still.”

At the rink’s curve, Tate took the exercise along the wall back to the other end of the ice, and continued for three more laps.

Nickleback transitioned into Hall of Fame by the Script. “Now we’re talking,” Tate yelled, using his stick to point at Beckett. “Turn that bad boy up.” To the kids he yelled, “At the top of your lungs guys, let me hear it.” The chorus came on and together their voices filled the rink, and Tate felt higher than a fucking kite, dancing on his skates, adding little jumps, because he knew the kids got a kick out of it and it made Tate happy. “You can throw your hands up, you can beat the clock, you can move mountains, you can break rocks…”

From the side of the rink Beckett was yelling over them, smiling just as big. “No hot-doggin’ it like Donovan. Keep the bounce out of your step. Keep your sticks quiet. You’re going for smooth. When you’re a hotshot you can mess around on the ice too.”

The kids laughed, but kept skating and kept singing. “You can be the hero, you can get the gold, breakin’ all the records they thought never could be broke… Do it for your country, do it for your name, cause there’s gonna be a day when you’re on the wall of fame…”

On the next lap, Tate dropped his stick by the goal and began a serpentine pattern from wall to wall to work on the kid’s backward crossover skills to All In by Lifehouse.

“Damn, Derek,” Tate called. “You’re my DJ for the rest of the week.”

“Check your lyrics, Derek” Beckett cautioned like the dad he was.

“Killjoy,” Tate hit back, pulling laughter from the kids.

He’d never seen them skate so hard or so well. Tate’s whole world felt like it had fallen into perfect harmony.

“Reach for ice, cross under,” he called. “Reach, cross.” They were nailing the advanced drill, so he added another new skill and had them easing down to their forearms before pulling back to their feet. When they had a handle on that, he added a jump, landing on one skate.

They’d worked the length of the rink a dozen times and had all the kids red faced, panting and dripping sweat before he brought practice to a close.

Beckett tossed each kid a water bottle and they either dropped flat on their back on the ice to rest, or propped their backs up against the wall.

Tate took a drink from his own bottle and tugged off his helmet and wiped down while Olivia and Joe made their way toward them.

“That’s got to be the best practice I’ve ever seen, son,” his dad said as he followed Olivia to the bench and set down one of the bags of food. Olivia set the other down beside it. “I’m sorry I’ve got to leave.”

“Already?” Tate asked, stepping into the box.

“I’ll be back Saturday for the dinner.” He opened his arms for a hug, and Tate looked down at his dad’s clean casual travel clothes then at his sweaty practice uniform. “Dad—”

“Come here,” he ordered, wrapping his arms around him. “You should know better by now.”

Tate hugged him back and over his shoulder he found Olivia watching, her smile soft, her eyes filled with warmth.

“I just…love you.”

Her words from the night before shone in her eyes and Beckett’s heart swelled again.

Tate released Joe and he turned to talk to Beckett.

Olivia stepped up to Tate. “That was beyond amazing,” she said, glancing around at the boys, still sprawled out on the ice. “You’re even better with them than I ever imagined. Look at them. Lose are some damn happy kids.”

“That means I’ve done my job right. They’ll devour in minutes what took you hours to put together for them.”

“That means I’ve don my job right.” When he laughed, she said, “I’m going to walk to Metro with your dad and head home from there.”