Page 25 of In My Hockey Era
“You don’t have that?”
She hesitates, then shakes her head.“Not really.I mean, I love my job, but it’s notwho I am.It’s just something I’m good at.”
I nod slowly.“Maybe you just haven’t found it yet.”
She snorts.“Yeah, well, unless it turns out my true calling is yelling at hockey players on the internet, I think I’m out of luck.”
I laugh.“Hey, you’rereallygood at that.Maybe there’s a career in it.”
She smirks, but there’s something softer in her eyes now.Something that wasn’t there before.
I wasn’t expecting this.I thought this would be another round of verbal sparring, another game of who can get under the other’s skin first.But now we’re here, in this quiet bar, talking about real things.
And I like it.
A lot.
“Is there a girlfriend waiting for you at home…or a jealous puck bunny who’s going to slash my tires for meeting up with you like this?”she surprises me by asking.
I lean in closer.“You want to know my relationship status.”
She nods, presses her lips together.She’s got an amazing mouth.It’s distracting as hell.“I guess so.”
“Let me put it to you this way… I’ve beenpainfullysingle for a long damn time.”Too long.
She smiles, knowingly.“How long are we talking?”
“Current dry spell is going on…” I glance at my non-existent wristwatch, “six months.”
She scoffs.“That’s nothing.I haven’t dated anyone in almost two years.”
“Two years?!”I sputter.
“Yes, but they make some pretty good substitutes these days, so I’m not totally destitute.”
If she’s talking about something battery operated, I might die of a brain aneurysm.
Lucy signals our server for another round.“Can I get a big ice water and an order of cheese fries?”
“Good choice,” I say, recovering.
Her gaze flicks to mine.“FYI—I don’t share fries, so… do with that information what you will.”
I look at the server.“Make that two orders please.”
She scribbles it down and dashes away.
“So where’d you grow up, anyway?”Lucy asks, swirling the last of her drink in her glass.
“Little town outside of Minneapolis,” I say.“Cold as hell in the winter, but it’s basically a rite of passage up there.You’re either freezing your ass off on a pond playing hockey or you’re freezing your ass off shoveling snow.No in-between.”
She laughs, a real one, and I can’t help but grin.“Sounds miserable.”
“Nah,” I say, leaning back.“I loved it.Small town, tight community.Everyone knew everyone.I had a whole crew of guys I grew up with—most of us played on the same team from mites all the way up through high school.”
She nods, taking that in.“What about your family?”
That question always hits a little differently.I shift, rolling my glass between my hands.“Big, loud, a little overwhelming.My mom’s the type to make a meal big enough to feed an army even if only three people are coming over.My dad’s old-school—taught me to skate the second I could walk.And I’ve got two older sisters who made sure I never got away with anything.”
