“Did Keelie stay at home with Brooks?” I asked.
Cormac perked up. “Yeah, and she said he smiled today. He’s sleeping better, too. Six whole hours.”
“That’s great, man.”
A pang hit me as I realizedagainthat I could have had a kid. I could be the one bursting with pride because the tot slept several hours in a row. Maybe by now we would even have a second little peanut on the way—if Hana was interested in more kids, of course.
Maxim tossed stuff around in his locker. “Where’s my apple butter?” he asked.
“Here,” Cruz said.
I whistled as I noted the size. That was ahugejar.
“You’re sharing this,” he informed Maxim. “I don’t want to hear a word! You don’t want to end up over your weight limit.” Cruz pulled out a container of plastic spoons and disposable bowls. “And if I see you trying to hoard this kind of thing again, I’m taking you down.”
“Like to see you try,” Maxim snapped.
“Leave it, guys,” Cormac said, his tone easy. Everyone listened to him. Maxim and Cruz settled down, maybe because Maxim was now snarfing apple butter. Dude was addicted to the stuff.
Stolly’s phone rang, and he dove for it, crooning into the receiver. I would have rolled my eyes at how lovesick the sap was if I didn’t want the same thing—and just like that, my thoughts returned, again, to Hana.
“Put that liquid candy down, Maxim. Now. Get your heads out of your butts and into the game,” Coach said as he strolled into the room. How he knew Cormac was staring daggers at Cruz before he even entered was pure magic.
“Off that phone, Stol,” Coach said. He finally looked up from his clipboard. “Paloma’s on standby if Millie needs anything. Now, I want to go over the plan of attack one more time before we warm up.”
* * *
The game was a bruiser,but I relished the aggressive play because it required my full focus. No time to worry about how I’d left the situation with Hana or get my hopes up about a future she hadn’t admitted to wanting.
I slammed a defenseman into the boards with my shoulder and turned to block his stick as he tried to reach for the puck. I slapped around his flailing and shot the puck up toward Stol, who gave his wrist a gentle flip and slipped the puck into the net between the goalie’s outstretched arm and leg.
The blue light swirled, and the crowd grew quieter, except for the cheering from our CATS section behind the bench. Cormac patted my helmet and Cruz whacked my shoulder while the rest of the team congratulated Stol.
Yeah, the two of us made a great offensive duo, but without Cormac, Cruz, and Maxim blocking San Jose’s offense, we wouldn’t have had so much puck time. This group of men worked together as a seamless unit, one we’d been trying to build in our second and third lines. I was beginning to realize that our closeness off the ice helped us play better together in the rink—no doubt another reason Coach was keen on us getting together often.
San Jose came roaring out in the next period, seeming determined to tie the game. The ferociousness heated up, and I took an elbow to the same cheek Hana had hit with the stapler. The team medic pulled me off the ice to have the gash cleaned and bandaged. I glanced over while the trainer worked on me, catching a glimpse of Hana, who sat in the seat next to Ida Jane. She wore a simple blue sweater and dark leggings tucked into calf-high boots. Her hair was pulled back from her face and in a long, thick braid that had settled over one shoulder. A few wisps of Hana’s blue-black hair framed her face. Her brown eyes were large with worry. When I offered her a wave, she sent back a tight smile.
Ida Jane leaned closer to Hana and spoke into her ear. Hana nodded but kept her gaze on me, not bothering to look when the crowd gasped then booed.
I wasn’t surprised that Ida Jane had introduced herself nor that she’d taken Hana under her wing. These games were a lot more to handle than the high school versions.
When I looked back at the ice, Maxim had an offensive player against the boards, and Cormac was trying to sweep the puck from between the guy’s skates. A collective groan went up as Cormac scraped the puck clean and shot it forward to Stolly. He laid into the slap shot, but the goalie blocked it with his padded shin.
I returned my attention to Hana and found her staring at me. I winked, which led to another smile.
“Stop that,” the medic said. “Now that the cut’s clean, I’ll get the glue in there before I put on the bandage.”
“Sorry, Derry. Just letting my girl know I’m okay.”
“After you’re treated,” Derry said, never taking his eyes from my cheek. “Done.” He pulled off his gloves and gave me a nod.
I headed toward Coach. “I’m good,” I said.
Coach nodded, his arms crossed, eyes never leaving the play on the ice. “Take a breather. The rookie’s got something to prove, and we’re going to see if he can manage to do so.”
I grumbled, frustrated with the idea of a twenty-one year old coming for my spot. Not that I wasthatmuch older, but I had two and a half seasons with the NHL under my belt, and Stol and I were practically unstoppable when we paired up.
“Hana saw you play,” Coach said, seeming to read my mind—and the thoughts I hadn’t beenwillingto think. “She’s duly impressed. Now, let me win this game so I don’t have to deal with the media vultures picking at my bones later.”
