Hannah’s question throws me off guard as we walk down the street, Toast Malone stopping to cock his leg at every signpost we pass.
“I almost lost us our game,” I say with a shrug, looking down at the pavement.
“It’s more than that,” Hannah says, knocking me purposely with her shoulder. “I can tell.”
I look down at her to find her eyes smiling as she gazes up, and it feels like she can see straight through me. And man, what is it about this woman that I want to tell her all my secrets? This is new, and scary. And… if I’m honest, I don’t completely hate it.
“I’m at risk of being traded this summer,” I say with a resigned sigh.
Hannah stops suddenly, Toast Malone grunting in objection. She gapes up at me, confusion causing a crease to burrow between her eyebrows as she studies my face. “What makes you think that?” She narrows one eye. “Does this have anything to do with Chris?”
Avoiding her eyes, I rub at the nagging pinch in the back of my neck. “Nah, my agent told me to prepare.” I swallow hard. And, sure, I could tell her about Chris Garret’s thinly veiled threat from earlier today, but I really don’t want to risk bringinghimup right now. “And, if I’m traded, then I can say goodbye to hockey for good, because I—” I snap my mouth shut when I almost say too much. “I-I… My mom’s here, and… I-I can’t leave New York.”
She continues studying me for a long moment, her lips twisting to the side in thought before she says, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She shakes her head dismissively, and we begin walking again. “Besides, my dad loves you.”
This time it’s me who stops—so suddenly I almost fall flat on my face. Gawking at the back of Hannah’s head, she turns, looking at me like I’m the delusional one. “What?”
“Yourdad… Coach Lance Draper… lovesme?” I blow out a raspberry. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“He does.”
“Your dad fuckinghatesme.” I bark an incredulous laugh.
“You’re wrong,” she says so matter-of-factly, I can’t help but balk. “My father loves youandhe loves Dallas. I don’t knowwhy. It’s just always been the case. He calls you and Dallas hisboys.” She stabs the air with finger quotes.
Me and Dallas? I take a moment to ponder that because, surely, she’s mistaken. Coach Draper makes my and Dallas’s lives a living hell, more than anyone else on the team. There’s even been a few instances where I was sure he was going to beat the shit out of me with my own damn hockey stick.
“Trust me, out of everyone on that team, my dad will fight for you,” Hannah assures me, and I don’t know why, but there’s just something so sincere in the way she says it that I can’t help but believe her.
We continue walking in a companionable silence until we reach the green space on the corner of Mercer. Hannah releases Toast Malone off his leash, and he trots off, sniffing around for the perfect spot to cop a squat while we stand off to the side.
“It’s a nice night,” I say for the sake of it.
“Yeah,” Hannah muses, craning her head back to look up toward the sky. “Winter is officially over. Thank God.”
It’s only then that I realize just how close we are, the vanilla scent in her hair wafting up through the gentle breeze and assaulting my nostrils in the best kind of way. I peer down at her, studying her beneath the dull glow of the safety lights dotted about the park, and I’m momentarily captivated by just how goddamn pretty she is. Yes, she’s hot and sexy as hell and all that, but she’s also just… pretty. She takes my fucking breath away.
“So, why do they call you Happy?”
Confused by her sudden and unexpected question, my eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”
“Happy Slater?” She says my name like it’s a question. “WhyHappy?”
“Um… b-because… that’s my name…?”
She stares at me for a long moment, blinking once. “Your name isHappy?”
I shake my head once, so damn confused, I feel like at somepoint during the last thirty seconds I’ve been sucked into some sort of alternate universe. “Yeah, hi… have we met?” I jokingly extend my hand with a guffaw.
Hannah cocks her head to the side like she doesn’t believe me. “Your legal name is Happy?”
I scoff a laugh. “Yes.”
“Oh my God. All this time I’ve thought it was just some nickname because… well… because Happy. Really?” She shrieks with laughter. “Your parents actually named you Happy?”
I groan through my own self-deprecating laughter, dragging a hand down my face. “Well, I mean, no. Okay, so, the story goes, I was supposed to be namedHarryafter my mom’s favorite grandpa.”
Hannah nods, grinning up at me.
