Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Gabriel
"Okay everyone, please sit down and stay in your seats," the teacher says.
No one sits.
Mostly because five professional hockey players just walked into an elementary school gym.
Dex looks around like he just arrived at a festival built specifically for him.
"Wow," he says. "These are my people."
"You are not their people," Coach says.
"Disagree," Dex replies.
Kids immediately swarm us.
Actual swarming.
Like pigeons attacking breadcrumbs.
"Are you famous?"
"How tall are you?"
"Did you ever punch somebody?"
"Why are your legs so big?"
"Can I hold your stick?"
"That sentence is dangerous," Bobby mutters.
The teacher claps loudly.
"Everyone! PLEASE sit down!"
Nobody listens.
One small boy is already trying to lift Colby's hockey bag like it contains treasure.
"Careful," Colby says. "That thing weighs more than you."
"I'm strong," the kid says confidently.
The bag doesn't move.
Dex crouches down next to him.
"Excellent effort," he says. "You almost had it."
Natalie stands near the back of the gym beside the principal, trying to look like this situation is under control.
She fails.
Mostly because she's laughing.
Maddie sits cross-legged in the front row like she personally invited the circus.
"That's my dad," she tells the girl next to her for the sixth time.
Coach claps his hands once.
The sound echoes like a starting gun.
"Alright," he says. "Career Day."
The kids slowly sit.
Mostly.
Dex raises his hand.
"Before we begin, are we signing autographs or is this strictly educational?"
"Dex," Coach says.
"Right. Learning."
A girl in the front row raises her hand immediately.
"Why are you so tall?"
Colby answers.
"Milk. Vegetables. Genetics."
"Genetics?" she asks.
"It means my parents were tall," he says.
Another boy raises his hand.
"Do you fight people?"
"Sometimes," Dex says.
"Mr. Miller!" The teacher shouts.
"Relax," Dex says. "Educational honesty."
Bobby clears his throat.
"We play hockey," he says. "Which means skating, teamwork, and scoring goals."
Dex nods.
"And occasionally crashing into people."
"Accidentally," Bobby adds.
"Debatable," Colby says.
The teacher exhales slowly.
"Maybe Maddie would like to introduce her dad," she says.
Maddie pops up like she just won the lottery.
"This is my dad!" she announces proudly. "He's a winger and he's the fastest player on the team."
"Sometimes," I say.
"All the time," Dex corrects.
"Except when he's falling," Colby adds.
"Traitor," I mutter.
Kids laugh.
One boy raises his hand.
"Do you get paid?"
"Yes," Dex says.
"To play a game?"
"It's a very serious game," Bobby says.
"With helmets," Dex adds.
"And taxes," Colby says.
The principal looks impressed.
Coach shrugs slightly. "It might look like a game," he says, "but it's still our job. We practice every day, work hard, and try to get better so we can do our jobs well."
Dex raises a finger.
"We should demonstrate hockey," he says.
The teacher blanches.
"Absolutely not—"
"Absolutely yes," the principal says instantly.
Coach exhales slowly like a man who saw this coming from a mile away.
"Five minutes," he says. "No slapshots."
Dex pumps a fist.
"Field trip," he says.
Bobby digs into a bag and pulls out a foam puck while Colby drags a few tiny orange cones from the equipment pile near the wall.
"Everyone scoot back," the teacher says nervously.
The kids scoot closer.
"This is a stickhandling drill," Colby explains, setting the cones in a line.
Dex takes the puck.
"Observe greatness," he announces.
He starts weaving through the cones.
A tiny second grader immediately steals the puck.
Dex freezes.
"Hey," he says. "That was not in the lesson plan."
The kid takes off across the gym.
Dex chases him.
The entire gym erupts.
"GET BACK HERE," Dex shouts, laughing as the kid zigzags around chairs.
He finally scoops the puck back and hands it over like he's awarding a tiny championship trophy.
"Future first round pick," Dex says.
Next Bobby drops to one knee.
"Goalie demonstration," he says.
A six-year-old winds up and pushes the foam puck straight between Bobby's legs.
The puck slides gently into the net.
Maddie jumps up.
"THAT COUNTS!"
"Goal of the year!" Dex yells.
The principal claps enthusiastically.
The teacher presses a hand to her forehead.
"Career Day usually involves a dentist," she says. "No one scores goals."
"Too late," Dex says. "Kid's up one-nothing."
Colby tries to restore order.
"Passing drill," he says, sending the puck toward Dex.
Dex swings and completely misses.
The puck ricochets into the cones.
Orange plastic explodes across the floor.
Kids lose their minds.
"That was strategic," Dex says confidently.
"You whiffed," Bobby says.
"Advanced technique," Dex replies. "See kids, that takes hours of hard work and practice."
"Let Maddie try," one of the kids shouts.
Maddie runs out onto the gym floor before anyone can stop her.
"Alright," I say, crouching beside her. "Stick like this."
She lines up.
Takes a swing.
The puck slides straight into the net.
The gym explodes.
"MADDIE! MADDIE! MADDIE!" the kids chant.
She throws both arms in the air.
Dex jogs over and lifts her like she just won a championship.
"Natural talent," he announces. "Definitely my coaching."
"You were chasing a second grader five minutes ago," Colby says.
Coach blows a whistle.
Kids freeze.
"Alright," he says. "Lesson time."
He picks up the skate he brought with him.
"Anyone here ever tried running with their shoelaces untied?" he asks.
Every hand shoots up.
"What happens?" he asks.
"You trip!"
"You fall!"
"You face-plant," one kid says.
Coach nods.
"Exactly. Because when your laces are loose, you're not ready. You're distracted. You're holding back because you might fall."
He lifts the skate.
"But when they're tight?"
Kids lean forward.
"You're ready to move. Ready to skate. Ready to go."
He pauses.
"In hockey," he says, "and in life, if your laces are loose you hesitate. But when you're totally laced up, you're ready to move."
"And double knotted too!" one kid yells from the back.
Coach nods thoughtfully.
"That's right," he says. "Because if your laces come loose halfway through the game, you're in trouble."
Dex slowly turns to look at me.
"Wow," he whispers.
Colby elbows me.
"Shelly. That felt personal."
"Shut up," I say.
Maddie raises her hand again.
"Can I say something?"
"Sure," Coach says.
She points to Natalie in the back of the gym.
"That's my stepmom."
The entire room turns.
Natalie freezes like someone just turned a spotlight on her.
Dex leans toward Colby, barely containing himself.
"Oh this is happening," he whispers.
"Dex," Natalie warns.
He lifts both hands. "I am quietly supporting this moment."
One of the teachers blinks.
"You two are married?"
"Yes," Natalie says.
"It was fast," Dex adds helpfully.
"DEX," three people say at once.
A boy in the second row raises his hand.
"If it was fast, did you know you liked her before you got married?"
The gym goes quiet.
The curious kind.
Dex slowly turns toward me like he just smelled blood in the water.
"Oh this is good," he whispers.
Colby folds his arms.
"Answer the kid, Shelly."
"Yeah," Bobby says. "Run with Coach's skate thing."
Coach just watches.
Waiting.
Maddie is staring at me like this is the most important question ever asked in the history of elementary school.
I glance toward Natalie.
She looks like she wants to disappear into the wall.
But she doesn't look away.
Coach lowers the skate slightly, still holding it in his hand.
He doesn't say anything.
He just looks at me.
I glance at the skate, then back at the kids.
I exhale slowly.
"When your skates are loose," I say, "you skate carefully. You're thinking about every step. Wondering if you're about to wipe out."
A few kids nod like this is extremely serious information.
"But when they fit right," I continue, "when they're laced up tight and double-knotted… you stop worrying about falling."
The gym is completely silent now.
"You just skate. And you skate really well."
Dex whispers.
"Wow."
Colby nudges him.
"Let him finish."
I look at Natalie again.
"Being with Natalie is kind of like that," I say.
The kids look confused.
The team absolutely does not.
"So she's the skates?" Dex asks.
"That's not what I said," I reply.
Coach nods once.
"Find the right pair once," he says, "and you never want another one."
Maddie pipes up proudly.
"Dad likes Natalie more than his old skates."
The kids giggle.
I glance down at Maddie.
She's grinning like she just solved the biggest mystery in the world.
Dex points dramatically.
"Child understands the metaphor."
I shake my head, but the words are already there.
"When your skates fit right," I say quietly, "when they're laced tight… you don't have to think about every stride."
I look straight at Natalie.
"You just know they're exactly who you want."
The team goes still.
Dex leans toward Colby and whispers,
"I'm pretty sure that was the longest way anyone has ever said 'I love you.'"
Colby smirks.
"Worth the wait."
Dex nods.
"Yeah," he says. "We'll allow it."
I nod once.
"Yeah," I say.
Then I say it clearly.
"I love her."
For half a second the gym is silent.
Then it explodes.
Kids cheering.
Dex jumps into the air like someone scored a playoff goal.
"FINALLY!" he yells.
Colby claps my shoulder.
"Career Day MVP," he says.
Bobby shakes his head.
"Took you long enough."
Coach mutters behind us.
"About time he laced up his skates."
Maddie beams like she personally solved the mystery of the universe.
She runs across the gym and throws her arms around Natalie.
"I knew it!" she says.
Natalie laughs and hugs her tight.
I walk toward them.
Dex is still narrating.
"I would like it noted," he announces, "that the team played a crucial leadership role in this relationship."
"You pushed him a little," Bobby says.
"Motivated," Dex replies.
"Encouraged," Colby adds.
"Inspired," Dex corrects.
I stop in front of Natalie.
For a second the noise fades away.
Kids still buzzing with excitement.
The guys are grinning behind me.
The teachers look stunned but amused.
But none of it matters.
"Turns out the kid was right," I say quietly.
Natalie's eyes soften.
Behind us Maddie throws both hands in the air like she just won the Stanley Cup.
The principal claps.
"Best Career Day we've ever had," he says.
The teacher looks exhausted.
"This is definitely not how Career Day normally goes."
Dex grins.
"You're welcome."
The principal nods enthusiastically.
"We should invite the hockey team every year."
Dex grins.
"Tradition," he says.
I barely hear him.
Career Day might be over.
But Maddie is still holding Natalie like she belongs there.
Like she’s been part of us all along.
I chuckle as I realize…
My kid figured this out long before I did.