Page 13 of Desperate Pucker
“You’re the one who wanted to train sooner.”
He glares at me.
“You wobble a lot when you do a one-foot stop using your left skate,” I say.
“That’s because it’s my injured ankle,” he says, annoyed.
“You do that even when you’re not injured. I’ve watched tapes of how you play.”
He huffs out a breath. “I favor my right foot for one-foot stops. It’s normal. Everyone favors one side of their body.”
“You still need to work on it. A glaring weakness like that will cost you on the ice. You need to be able to move quickly when you’re playing, no matter what position your body is in. Do it again.”
I study the way his legs and feet move as he speeds up and stops.
“You’re not rotating your lead foot enough when you stop with your left foot,” I say. “Do it again.”
Ryker softly grumbles as he takes off, then stops.
“You’re still not rotating enough,” I say. “Your left foot is about as useful as a wobbly shopping cart wheel.”
He glowers at me.
I glower back. “Again.”
I watch. He rotates his lead foot a little more.
“That’s a little better. You need to lean back into the stop more, though.”
He exhales sharply and does it again, barely leaning.
I look at him. “More. Do it again.”
I hear him curse under his breath. He’s pissed off and tired. Good. That means this training session is actually working. He’s moving his body in an unfamiliar way, but he needs to in order to improve his skating, which will help him play better.
This time when he stops, it’s decent. Not as good as on his strong side, but way better than the way he was doing it before.
“Do it again, but this time, right after you stop, change direction and speed off.”
Ryker does what I tell him to do.
“See how much quicker you move that way?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles.
I take in the sweat bead dripping down his brow. His dark hair is wet against his forehead, and his breathing has picked up.
“Need a break?” I ask, fighting the satisfied smile aching to spread across my face.
He narrows his gaze at me, annoyed. “No.”
“You can take off your hockey pads if you want. It’ll probably be a lot easier for you to move around without them weighing you down.”
He shakes his head. “I’m keeping them on.”
I tilt my head at him. “You sure?” There’s a teasing lilt to my voice that earns me another glare.
“I play with these pads on. I need to train with them on.”
