Page 19 of Just My Puck
She laughs, the cascading sound light and genuine. “I wish I had that problem,” she jokes, and I join in her laughter. It’s fascinating to me that, despite everything that’s happening to her, she manages to keep her sense of humor.
“That’s because your life is probably less boring than mine, or maybe just less straightforward. My life has always revolved around hockey. Clubs, championships, getting drafted, starting my career in the NHL, finding a spot with the Raptors, and now being captain. It’s the logical continuation, I guess.”
“And you’ve scored some shiny trophies along the way,” she adds, her tone teasing.
With a low chuckle, I glance at the display. “Yeah, that too. But those are just a bonus. It’s not why you play the game.” I rub my jaw. “Well, the Stanley Cup is different, but otherwise, the awards are just the cherry on top, you know?”
“So, the Stanley Cup is the big trophy you fight for every year?”
“Yep. The entire championship leads up to it. Professional hockey is a grueling sport, and the Stanley Cup is a tough trophy to win,” I say, a bittersweet feeling in my chest as I remember both the moment we won it and lost it.
“And you got it.” Her eyes soften with admiration.
“We did. Once, two years ago. It was amazing. The single best moment of my life.”
“Does your family come to your games? I saw your pictures,” she admits with a wince.
Her cheekiness makes me smile. “Sometimes. They would never miss the playoffs and the Stanley Cup finals, but regular games, not so much. My parents live in Jersey while my older sister is down in Pennsylvania. The youngest just moved to Paris last year.”
Her eyes stretch wide. “Wow, that’s far away.”
“I know. But that was her dream. She seems happy there, so it works for me.”
“I wonder if I have any siblings,” she muses, her voice like a whisper.
My heart clenches. “If you do, they’ll be out looking for you soon, I’m sure.” I know I would be. Even if Gaby is all the way in Paris, if more than two days passed without her sending me any signs of life, I’d alert the authorities.
She frowns, clearly surprised bymy answer. “Sorry, I didn’t think I said that out loud.”
“You can talk to me, you know. About all this. I’m not sure I’ll be a big help, but I’m a good listener. The guys on my team know that—and abuse it, sometimes—but I’m here if you need me.”
The corners of her lips lift, and her smile warms my chest more than I care to admit. “Thanks. I’m sure you’re a fantastic captain.”
“Doing my best.” I offer a grin, then look at my watch. “Are you hungry?”
“Well, there’s not much I know about myself, but I’m pretty sure I never say no to food,” she says with a chuckle. “Oh, and I kind of ate half of the waffles that I found in the freezer.”
I laugh, genuinely amused. “With all the vegetables and meat in the fridge, you went for the waffles? That does tell us something about you. You obviously have a sweet tooth.”
“Orrr, I just really didn’t want to set your kitchen on fire,” she says, standing up from the couch with a shrug. “Who knows what kind of cooking skills I have?”
9
“Sorry about Mr. Darcy. He’s a cuddler.”
Aria
Last night was surprisingly fun. After a nice dinner, Caleb and I spent hours talking about everything and nothing. We started building the LEGO baseball field, and Caleb kept saying things to make me laugh, taking my mind off the disaster that is my life. This morning, I feel a lot lighter than I did yesterday, even if the thought of meeting new people still makes my stomach roll.
“Hey,” Calebcalls out when I reach the bottom of the stairs. “What do you want for breakfast today? Same as yesterday, or waffles?”
“Don’t you have practice? I’d hate for you to make me breakfast again if you’re not even eating here.”
“Actually, I am eating here,” he says with a smile. “We don’t have practice today. I just have a few meetings at the arena in the afternoon—captain’s duties.”
“Oh, in that case, I’ll let you choose.” I grab a stool at the bar, tapping my nails on the marble counter as I glance at the clock. What am I going to talk with those girls about? Will we even get along? I literally have no personality. It’s a problem.
“Okay, I’ll go with the waffles, then. I never get a chance to eat a sweet breakfast since I always need to pack on the proteins. Just don’t tell my boss.”
