Page 24 of In My Hockey Era
I nod, taking a sip of my beer.“Yeah, I can see that.You’ve got that whole unshakable thing going on.”
She scoffs.“Oh, please.I’m plenty shakable.”
I raise a brow.“Really?Because so far, I’ve seen you handle everything from a live debate to a room full of hockey fans without breaking a sweat.”
Her fingers tap lightly against the side of her glass.“It’s different at work.There’s no time to think, no time to second-guess.You justdo.”
Kinda like hockey, I think.But I don’t want to compare my job—which is literal child’s play—to the important work she does.
“It sounds pretty intense.”
She shifts, tucking her hair behind one ear.“Yes and no, it’s not always life and death.A lot of calls are just picking up old people who have fallen down, or nursing home transfers, or taking someone with chest pain to the hospital who turns out to have indigestion.But I did deliver a baby once.”
“What was that like?”
“Messy,” she says with a chuckle.
“I bet.”
She leans in, her eyes lighting up as she talks.It’s cool to see how passionate she is about her work.“Anyways, it’s cool being part of something that exists solely to help people in the middle of their worst situation—and no matter what—be it during a hurricane, a tornado, or in the middle of the night, we’ll show up.We’ll come running in and help you—even if you don’t have health insurance, or you’re an asshole, or even if it turns out there’s actually nothing wrong.People trust us to enter their homes, to see them at their worst, buck naked on the bathroom floor, or passed out drunk… and for the most part, we don’t judge… we just roll up our sleeves and jump in.”
“You’re a real life superhero, Quinn.Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Some days it feels like that’s true, other days, not so much.Burnout’s high in this job.And sometimes, the second I slow down, the second I let myself think too much…” She shrugs, like she doesn’t like where her own thoughts are going.“That’s when things get messy.”
I study her for a second.“What happens when things get messy?”
She doesn’t answer right away.Instead, she takes a slow sip of whiskey, like she’s weighing whether or not to tell me.
Then, quietly, “I don’t like not knowing what comes next.”
Something about the way she says it makes me think she isn’t just talking about work.
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table.“See, I think that’s what makes life fun.The unknown.The surprises.The moments you don’t see coming.”
She looks at me, her expression unreadable.“Like this?”
I smirk.“Exactly like this.”
For a second, we just sit there, watching each other.The air between us feels different now—less teasing, less combative.Just…something else.
I notice everything—the way the light catches on the golden flecks in her hair, and the subtle way her mouth curves into a hidden smile.
“How long have you been a medic?”
“Seven years,” she confirms.
I narrow my eyes, realizing I should probably know this.“How old are you?”
She laughs.“Twenty-nine.You?”
“Twenty-seven.”
I’m guessing she already knew that, she knows so much about the team, the players.Lucy clears her throat, clearly wanting to shift the conversation.“Alright, enough about me.Why hockey?”
I grin.“I mean, obviously because I love it.But if you want the real answer—it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.No matter what else was going on in my life, I knew who I was when I was on the ice.”
She tilts her head, considering that.“Must be nice.”
