That I didn’t remember, probably because I’d been plastered. But I did know how Maxim looked at his wife, and each time I saw that devotion in his eyes and her soft smile back, I was reminded of Hana.
Cruz had taken care of me that night, too, and not said anything to the guys about it, for which I was thankful. I still wasn’t ready to discuss Hana with the team.
“Last night was simply the callback to that, which told me you still care too much to let go of the hope of a future with her.”
He wasn’t wrong. And I was positive Hana was my soulmate, but that didn’t change the hurt I’d caused her. I closed my eyes and swallowed, grimacing at the terrible taste in my mouth.
“Ass out of bed, Naese. You only have an hour-fifty to pack for our next game and get yourself showered.”
“Why?” I croaked. I opened my aching eyes and looked at him.
His expression seemed to soften beneath that thick beard. “You need to talk to your girl. Get up,” he said again. “We really should leave in an hour and a half. I’m not going to let you mess up this meet-and-greet I worked hard to put together.”
“I…” I shut my mouth.
Last night’s baby shower had caused a resurgence of my disgust at walking away from Hana, the love of my life. It was a constant battle now to swallow my disappointment in myself. At least I’d made some better choices since coming to Houston, and I was long past the point where casual relationships filled the void of loneliness I’d ripped into my soul when I told Hana we were through.
I hadn’t once felt a connection to another woman like the bond I’d shared with Hana. So, I’d simply become less and less satisfied with my dating life and my hockey career. For the first time ever, I was unsure how to correct the problems. Normally, I’d call my dad and get advice from him, but he’d been the one to push me to end things with Hana. In fact, my parents had nailed our coffin shut and thrown it out to sea when my father told me I had to choose between my family and career or the woman who was holding me back.
I’d listened to him, but I’d come to hate him for his words.
I was furious—with my father, especially—soangry that I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive either of my parents. But I shouldered the blame for not calling Hana back a few days later after she’d left me a message.
If I had…
If I had, maybe she’d be here with me in this bed, and I’d be happy. I could barely remember what that felt like anymore. Even the camaraderie of my teammates failed to chip away the coldness that seemed to surround my soul.
“Why?” I asked again, the rest of the words choked off because my throat ached. My response to Cruz was embarrassing. He’d caught me while I was down, and I hated getting emotional.
“You don’t have to keep beating yourself up over a mistake you made years ago,” he said, his murderous resting face softening…a little. Cruz would always look like he was going to kill someone. It was part of his charm—that and his brutal checks and punches on the ice.
I loved the guy. In fact, we all adored Cruz.
“From what you said last night, your father also bears some blame,” he noted. “You admitted to the screw up, and now it’s time to take back control. She may not want you, and you’ll have to deal with that, but at least you can get out of being stuck.”
I was sick of pretending I was okay—I wasn’t. I missed Hana. I screwed my eyes tightly shut.
I miss her terribly.
My hands fisted, and anger pumped through me—hot, heady, and dangerous if I didn’t find a proper outlet. I didn’t want to lash out at my friends…or Hana.
No, this was a rush I should unleash in practices, maybe a game.
I swallowed down my initial reaction. My next step was to fix the situation with Hana. I was determined to wash off last night’s overindulgence and then move on to my parents’ lies. The only way to get Hana back was to talk to her.
I turned on the taps in my shower and stripped off the boxer briefs and T-shirt I’d slept in. I was a professional hockey player with multiple years in the league. I played for one of the best teams because Coach had traded for me partway through my first season. To most people, I seemed to have it all.
Professionally, I did. But I noted how happy Coach was with his wife, Paloma. Adam and Naomi were all lovey-dovey, as were Cormac and Keelie, and now the mighty Maxim Dolov and his tiny obsession, Ida Jane.
Even notorious ladies’ man Luka Stol had settled into familial bliss, that fucking asshole. And here I was, still chasing the thing I’d always wanted—and had let slip through my fingers.
Cruz pounded on my bathroom door. “Thirty minutes till we gotta leave!”
“I’ll be ready,” I called. I hissed as I stepped into the stall, but the lure of seeing Hana again kept me rooted in the space.
Hana. We’d known each other practically our whole lives. Her family had moved in down the street right before second grade. Hana and her older brother, Aiki, had arrived just days before we started classes. I’d met them in the vacant lot between our houses. Aiki was loud and fun—a rough-and-tumble boy who didn’t mind getting dirty, or in trouble.
But Hana was quiet. Many people considered her shy. She wasn’t, though, not once you got to know her. She just assessed a situation before stepping into it, an essential part of her personality, just like hockey was to me.
