Page 124 of Bagging the Blueliner
“Hmm,” Zoe mused. “You neglected to mention she’s your coach’s daughter.”
“Not in the mood for a lecture. The ‘you should have known better’ schtick has been worn out by now.”
“Answer me one question, and I’ll drop it.”
I released a heavy sigh. “Fine.”
“Who ended it?”
Technically, her father.
“As far as anyone is concerned, it was me.” Zoe was perceptive enough; she’d figure it out.
“I see.”
“Cal, my boy!” My father’s voice boomed behind me, and I tore my eyes away from Hannah to face my family.
Throwing a fake smile on my face, I spun around, pulling my mom into a hug first.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered in my ear.
Some of the guys cried when the final buzzer sounded—reality sinking in that we’d won—but this was the first time tonight that tears threatened behind my own eyes. Blinking furiously, I tried to hold them at bay.
Every set of parents standing on this ice had sacrificed so much so we could be standing here tonight as champions. This victory was as much theirs as it was ours.
Releasing my mom, I could only manage a nod as a lump the size of my fist lodged in my throat.
Dad pulled me into a bear hug, and it became clear he was just as overcome with emotion as I was. There were no words between us, but he poured everything he was feeling into that tight embrace. I could never repay him for the love and support he’d given me as I had chased a seemingly impossible dream.
Next came my nephews. Calvin wasted no time, begging, “Uncle Cal, can I hold the trophy up?Please.”
Ruffling his platinum blond hair, I chastised, “You know the rules, buddy. You can only hoist it up after you win it. It’s bad luck to even touch that beauty if you haven’t.”
Twisting his lips, his shoulders dropped in defeat. “Fine.”
Julian was dead silent, his blue eyes wide in awe as he looked around at the crowd still gathered, cheering almost an hour after we’d officially won.
I feel you, buddy.
Grabbing him, I placed him onto my shoulders and took a lap around the rink, dodging the small family gatherings celebrating on the ice. Holding tight to his legs, I smiled to myself, thinking about the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I was able to give these boys. This would be a story they told their grandkids someday.
Grandkids.
Suddenly, the grief of losing Hannah hit me all over again. She didn’t want kids, and I was cool with that. I was more than willing to give up my legacy for her. We had enough children in our lives that we would be fulfilled being the fun aunt and uncle.
They might be sharing an ice surface right now, but it was a punch to the gut, knowing she’d never formally meet my family. My nephews would never know the incredible hockey mind that was Hannah. She would’ve been their biggest cheerleader at their games, telling them all her tips and tricks.
But I’d messed it all up. I let her father push me around in a moment of weakness, and I would never regret anything more for the rest of my life.
The press waited patiently while the team celebrated privately inside the locker room—spraying champagne over every surface before eventually pouring it into the rounded bowl on top of our new trophy and drinking out of it. But they could only be held at bay for so long, and the highest profile players were trotted out to speak to them in pairs.
Jaxon and I were the first to sit before them as the captain and most senior player on the team, respectively.
The bright lights were blinding. Not only were our local news affiliates in attendance, but also every major national outlet. They would be tracking our movements over the next few weeks as the world watched us celebrate our championship.
Jaxon was the ultimate diplomat, deflecting every question about his individual performance—including winning MVP—by turning it around to focus on the team effort. He was always good in front of the cameras. Me, not so much.
The first question lobbed my way was loaded as hell. “Cal, what does the future look like for you going forward?”
