Page 42 of Slap Shots & Sweethearts

"Are you serious?" I ask him. "I'm being called up?"

I can hear Lennox’s grin. "You're getting called up, but we have to get this signed, sealed, and delivered by the end of next week, or the offers are off the table until draft talks. Look these over, and then decide if you want to chance it with the later drafts."

He hangs up, and I head to the pizza pub to meet Ivy.

I'd much rather be sitting across from Hannah, but sitting across a bar table from my cousin isn't the worst. Ivy looks a lot like a little kid as she sits on the bar stool with her short legs dangling. The dim lighting of the pub and buzz of conversation around us is welcoming, but it does little to help with how much I miss Hannah. Instead it just reminds me of the Sweetheart Shuffle.

Ivy takes a long drink from her glass while the trivia host, who happens to be the same host from the Sweetheart Shuffle, counts up totals to determine the winner. I'm not holding my breath though, my head wasn't in it tonight, and unless it was a question about something medical, Ivy wasn't much help.

"Someone else you wanted to be here with?" she asks.

"Not your fault," I mumble because it's not her fault I wish it was Hannah sitting across from me instead of her.

I'd really thought after ice skating with her we were starting something. Her reaction to my gift, I couldn't hide my anger over it. Or the fact that I'd learned from overheard snippets of conversation that she'd been getting gifts from someone else. I never thought she had a deceptive bone in her body, but there she was playing me for a fool.

"Want to talk about it?" Ivy asks, her voice gentle but probing.

I give her a look that makes it clear that I don't.

"Noah's been talking about the game." She doesn't need to specify which one. "He was disappointed he didn't get a chance to see you really play."

I don't respond, because there's nothing to say. I messed up, and let Noah down.

"He also mentioned that he liked the lady more than the old guy. Wanted me to ask you if you knew why she didn't take him to the Zamboni like she promised."

That shocks me. "What?"

"And I quote, 'The nice lady said she'd take me to the ice, but she didn't.'"

"That makes no sense. Hannah handles that." Could she have really been so upset after our talk in the tunnel that she wouldn't do her job?

"Oh, so she has a name." Ivy says. "And is she who I can blame for your grumpy mood?"

"I'm not grumpy," I mumble into my glass.

"Yeah, but that's the thing. The kids at the hospital have started calling you Mr. Grumpy Pants. I've been asked to tell you not to come back until you have a better attitude."

I slump on my stool. The weight of my regret pulling me down.

"Hey." Ivy snaps. "None of that. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"I'm not." I protest weakly.

She pulls up her phone and snaps a photo of me. "This," she points to my face in the photo "is exactly what you are doing. Knock it off so I can enjoy my pizza."

We eat our food in relative peace as the trivia host, comes back and announces the winner for the night. I make room in my inbox, and wait for Lennox’s emails to come through with the NHL offers. After finishing our food, I drop enough cash on the table to cover the bill and tip our server.

We're walking to the door, when the trivia host steps into my path.

"You," she says. "Were you at the Sweetheart Shuffle?"

I nod. "Yeah."

Ivy laughs. "You went speed dating?"

I glare at her until she stops, before turning back to the host.

"I knew it. You were number thirteen. It's a very memorable number."

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