Page 18 of Breakaway

“There is no ‘just’ in being a mom,” Teddie says. “Raising responsible, involved children is one of the most important jobs.”

“What’s your dream, Teddie?” Leslie shoots back.

“My wife and I have a little farm. We raise sheep, organic crops, and honeybees. Currently we sell the wool and honey locally. She works at the antique store, and I’ll probably get a bookkeeping job in the area. It’s the town where we were raised, and we have family there. A chill life. We’re trying to adopt.”

“Steph you’re next,” Leslie prods.

“I’m going to play as long as I can. I already do the books for my dad’s body shop. When I’m done playing, I’ll probably pick up another client or two.”

“And you, Cat?”

All eyes turn to me. This is my dream, one I never expected to achieve. “This is all I’ve wanted since I learned to skate. Other than that, I’m kind of a day-to-day person.”

“Come on. There must be something else you want to do when this is over,” Teddie prods.

I shrug. “Once I found the game, all I’ve ever wanted to do is play hockey. Somehow be a part of it.”

Tatum covers my hand under the table and gives it a squeeze. “She’s going to be the career player. After she’s racked up ALL the awards, she’s going to teach little girls who love hockey how to be just as badass as she is on the ice.” She meets my gaze. “You have such a passion for the sport. You’re selfless on the ice.You encourage everyone and share everything you know. You’ll be perfect as a coach and mentor. The kids will love you.”

A dream? My dream? A career and kids to teach? Could it happen? Someone to love. Someone to love me. My hand trembles as I lift my cup to my lips.

“Somehow I knew we’d find you here.” I glance over my shoulder and get lost in Turk’s smile as Clark continues to speak. “The rest of the team are already in the restaurant and have ordered dinner. Would you ladies please keep the two of us company?”

“Sure,” Tatum says, “you are buying. Let me go pay our tab here.”

“It’s taken care of,” Turk cuts in.

“Thanks, Bro.”

Turk stays close to my side, making sure he gets the seat next to me. After we’ve all ordered, he offers me wine. “Thank you, but I don’t drink.”

He nods and passes the bottle down the table not taking any either. “You don’t drink?”

“Occasionally. But it’s not something I need, nor do I get drunk. I’m a surgeon and sometimes get called in on emergencies at the hospital. Having my head on right is more important to me.

“Clark raved about last night’s game. I can’t wait to watch you tomorrow. I also heard that Steph may be playing instead of Missy. How did practice go today?”

I glance across the restaurant. Coach is with the other half of the team. Missy and Baylor are at a private table for two with what looks like a Champagne bottle between them. Funny she was too sick to practice but is out drinking?

“Truthfully, it felt really good. Steph’s a team player, constantly watching what’s happening. We all just sort of blended perfectly. Almost like our moves were choreographed.I’m excited to see how we work in a game. Sometimes the nerves come out.”

“But when you’re clicking with your teammates that doesn’t last past the first couple of plays.”

“I forget you used to play. Why’d you quit?”

He takes a drink of his water. “My lower left leg was broken in two places the last game of my college career. I’d been signed by the pros but with the pins in my leg and the healing time required, they released me. I wasn’t worth the risk. Orthopedic medicine has come a long way since then.”

“Oh no. That must have been heartbreaking.”

“It took me a while to get over it. But I love what I do now, too. Being able to be part of this team is very satisfying. I love watching you play. You were made for the ice. How’d you get into hockey?”

These are the questions I hate. But my answers are well rehearsed. “My parents died and I ended up in foster care. My foster father coached hockey and taught me. I fell in love with it the first time I hit the ice.”

I don’t mention I was with teenage boys that resented the hell out of me when I was better than they were. I got more than my share of cheap shots, but I came away stronger than I’d ever been. With the knowledge that I was good at something.

“Want to walk off a little of this dinner,” he asks as we leave the restaurant. “The courtyard is enclosed. We can visit the koi pond and fountain. Thirty minutes. My sister will take that long in her bath. Does she still bring her own bubbles?”

I laugh. “Yes. She does like her late-night routine of bath, bubbles and three chapters of whatever romance book she’s reading. She says it’s her good luck charm.”

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