Page 17 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

Setting down her coffee, she shakes her head. “Except my grandma had blue eyes, and she drank just as much coffee as he did, so somehow I doubt it. Plus, you have blue eyes, and you drink coffee. My grandpa said a lot of goofy stuff, though.” She shrugs. “It made his visits fun.”

“What else?”

She screws up her face in thought, looking up to the side as she thinks, a smile breaking out on her face when she returns her gaze to mine. “I can’t remember everything. But whenever someone would knock on the door, he’d look at me with exaggerated surprise and say, ‘Now who could that be? Ain’t nobody home but us chickens!’”

My grin is as broad as hers, not just because of the nonsense her grandpa’d apparently say, but because she’s so adorable as she tells that story. “Sounds like you had fun with him.”

She nods. “He was a good grandpa.”

“Did he live around here?”

She shakes her head. “No. My grandparents lived in Portland. I grew up in the Seattle area.”

That surprises me a little, though I’m not sure why. “Oh yeah? In the main city, or in one of the suburbs?”

“A little north. In Everett.”

“Oh wow. That’s cool. I’ve been in Seattle the last few years.”

That has her eyebrows jumping. “Oh, that’s right. There’s a hockey team there now. How long ago did that happen?”

I can’t help grinning at that response, because usually people I talk to know all about hockey and the team’s history. “About five years ago. I got traded for the second season, and that’s where I’ve been since.”

She plants her chin on her hand. “Do you like Seattle? Where were you before that? And where are you from originally?”

“I like Seattle. It’s different, but it’s a cool city. Big enough, but not overwhelming like some places can be. Before that, I was in Dallas, which is very different. I’ve played for several teams, though, between college and going pro. I grew up in Wisconsin. Hockey’s a big deal in the Midwest.”

“How’d you get into it?” Her eyes are sparkling, and she’s watching me like this is the most fascinating conversation she’s had in ages. Which is flattering, if a little strange, since the broad strokes of these details are available for public consumption.

“My dad played his whole life, though never at a professional level. He played for clubs in high school but wasn’t competitive enough to play in college.” Sitting back in my chair, I fiddle with the handle of my mug, settling into storytime. Even though the teams I’ve played for and the fact that my dad played are widely publicized in my online stats, people don’t get the full story like this, and it’s nice to be able to tell it to an interested listener who doesn’t bring any of her own biases about it to the table.

“He still played for local leagues, though, for fun. I grew up going to his games.” I shrug, leaving the clear course of events left unsaid.

“Was it one of those things where you were skating as soon as you could walk?”

Laughing, I nod. “Basically. Dad had me out on the ice as soon as he could.”

“How’d your mom feel about that?”

“Okay, as far as I know. They didn’t tell me stories about her being mad or anything. She has pictures of me in my first pair of skates, Dad skating around with me at the local rink as a toddler. It was just part of our life. Like some people go to amusement parks or I dunno, the lake or the cabin and they swim from the time they’re babies. For us, it was the skating rink. My mom skated too, though just recreationally at the rink with dad and me.”

“When did you start playing hockey?”

“When I was five. I think I could’ve started a year or two sooner, but I think Mom wanted me to wait until I was school age. So my first season was the fall I started Kindergarten.”

“Your dad didn’t mind you waiting?”

Shrugging, I shake my head. “I don’t think so. He’s a big hockey nut, for sure, but he’s not an unreasonable guy. Both my parents have supported my hockey playing my whole life.”

“That sounds pretty great.”

“It is.”

She’s quiet for a moment, looking out the window as she sips her coffee. “Now that you’re retired, are you planning on moving closer to them?” Holding up her hand, she seems to stop herself. “I mean, I’m assuming they still live in Wisconsin. I guess it’s possible they moved closer to you. Did they?”

“They’re still in Wisconsin, yeah. My brother, too.”

Her eyebrows jump. “I didn’t realize you had a brother. Younger or older?”

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