Page 48
“Get it together, Gallagher,” I muttered, skating back to try again.
The speech loomed large. And it was just a few hours away.
Despite having memorized every word, practicing it in the mirror and with my moms, butterflies still swarmed in my stomach. Letting Andre down—letting the whole town down—wasn’t an option.
The next shot found the net.
The familiar rhythm of skate, shoot, repeat had some effect on quieting my mind, but I couldn’t hide on the ice all day.
As I began another run, Andre’s vision for the summer camp rose to the forefront of my thoughts. His dedication to creating safe spaces and supporting the community resonated with me. That kind of thing was exactly why I’d set up the Maplewood Foundation.
My property had more than enough space for what he’d envisioned…
The puck clanged off the post, making me wince. One date and already I was imagining our futures intertwined.
Some people jumped to the moving-in stage. I’d skipped ahead to starting a massive project.
I switched to defensive drills, carrying a puck as I skated backwards.
The sound of the rink’s door brought me to a stop. The clock showed forty minutes before the morning session. Tommy and Milo stood at the open door, already geared up and carrying water bottles and sticks.
Tommy took a bottle from Milo so he could swipe on his phone. When Milo gave a quick nod, Tommy started talking. “We didn’t mean to interrupt. We didn’t expect anyone to be out already.”
Milo’s gaze moved between his phone screen and us.
“No problem. Just running some drills. You’re welcome to join.”
Milo’s eyes lit with enthusiasm. “Really? That would be awesome.”
“You working on anything specific?” Tommy asked as they came onto the ice.
“Just shaking off some nerves about the speech later.” A partial truth, but appropriate for teenage ears.
“You’re going to be great,” Tommy said with absolute certainty—a confidence I desperately wished to borrow.
“I appreciate that. And I’m mostly sure you’re right. You know how it is when you have to do something you’re not used to.”
Tommy nodded. “Oh yeah, I hate having to get in front of the class to do a report.”
“And this will be bigger than any classroom.” I thought for a moment. “How about we do some two-on-one drills? See if you two can get past me?”
They shared a look loaded with unspoken communication.
“You’re on,” Tommy said.
They skated to the bench and put the water bottles and Milo’s phone down while I gathered most of the pucks into the net. I shot one to the far end of the ice and they took off after it. I drifted into the neutral zone to see what they’d do.
What followed impressed me. Tommy and Milo moved with seamless coordination, clearly having practiced beyond regular sessions. They anticipated each other’s moves, communicated through subtle signals, and slipped several shots past me.
After Milo faked a shot and passed to Tommy for a perfect goal, I couldn’t hold back the praise. “That was beautiful,” I spoke and signed as we got water at the bench. “The way you read each other’s movements, that’s the chemistry that makes great pairings.”
They beamed at the compliment.
Milo dropped his gloves to sign while he spoke. “Dixon’s worked with us on our passing game and what works well between defense and wings. He says the best plays come from trusting your teammate to be where they need to be.”
“He’s right.” I grabbed another quick drink. “Want to try again? This time I’ll be ready for that fake out.”
We ran through several more drills, then switched it up so I’d play offense with each of them.
