Page 92 of Bagging the Blueliner
God, I couldn’t love this woman any more if I tried. “When did you stop?”
A shadow passed over her eyes. “The spring I turned thirteen.”
Doing the mental math on what level of hockey happened at thirteen, the pieces fell into place. “Ah. When they began to allow checking.”
From my experience, men treated women on the ice one of two ways. They were either afraid to touch them, expecting bias from the referees and penalties called for looking at a girl the wrong way, or they deemed them fair game—if they wanted to play with the boys, they were treated as such. Hannah was the queen of trash talk, so it would be no surprise to learn she’d made her fair share of enemies on the ice.
Ruefully, Hannah shook her head. “No, it wasn’t because of the checking.”
Frowning, I took her hand in mine. “What was it?”
Sad blue eyes looked up at me. “Middle school girls can be mean.” Scoffing, she added, “And high school girls, and adult women for that matter. Being one of the guys made me a target.”
My jaw dropped. “You were bullied?”
“Let’s just say the move from Providence to Hartford came at the perfect time. I was one of the guys. Girls at school were jealous I was spending all this time with the boys they were crushing on. Imagine middle school-aged junior puck bunnies.” She shuddered at the thought. “Anyway, instead of cozying up to me to get intel on my teammates, they tore me down so I wouldn’t be their competition. It got to a point where I stopped wanting to go to school. They made my life miserable. So, I quit hockey. It was just easier.”
I clenched my free fist. “Little bitches.”
“Preach. But some good came out of it. The move gave me a fresh start. I met Natalie and Amy, who gave me a safe space to be myself. I’ll forever be grateful for their friendship. I would do anything for those girls, and I know they’d do the same for me.”
Pulling her into my arms, I kissed the top of her head. “I bet you were good.”
Hannah scoffed. “I was better than good; I wasgreat. Someday, I’ll teach you some of my moves.”
“Can’t wait.”
Turning her body, she looked up at me. “How about I make you a deal? You bring home the hardware this year, and I’ll show you everything I know.”
Chuckling, I dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “You’ve got a deal.”
Hannah went back to watching film, but I couldn’t focus on anything but her—her facial expressions, her animated hand gestures, and her spot-on analysis. With a last name like Moreau, it was a wonder she hadn’t found her way into a broadcasting booth. It was probably for the best. With her constant swearing, she would have given some poor tech in the control room a run for their money. Cable networks would be where she was best suited.
Moments like this were fleeting. Sure, Hannah would still watch film, but I wouldn’t be the one on the screen. The time left in my career was running out.
I was learning to accept my fate. It used to scare me, but everything changed when Hannah waltzed into this penthouse and straight into my heart. I could figure out the rest later when the time came. Having her was enough for me.
The only question that remained was if post-career Cal would be enough for her.
Thinking out loud, I asked softly, “Will you still love me when I can’t play anymore?”
I’d chosen those words carefully, dropping the L-word on purpose. I knew how I felt, but I was too chickenshit to say it first. This was my way of trying to trick her into saying it so I could say it right back without hesitation.
Giving me a playful smirk, she answered with a question of her own, “Who said I love you?”
My heartbeat was so loud in my ears that I was half convinced that Hannah could hear it.
Three little words, that’s all I wanted.
Playing it cool, I causally leaned back, placing one arm behind my head on the couch. “Just a hunch.”
“You always were a cocky bastard. Glad to see that hasn’t changed. You probably think every girl you’ve ever slept with has a shrine built with your face front and center hidden in their closet.”
As nervous as I was, I couldn’t help but laugh. Where did she come up with this stuff?
Leaning into her ridiculousness, I challenged, “What? You don’t?”
Hannah’s smile was so wide it reached up to her beautiful blue eyes. “Dream on, Berg. You’re not that good in bed.”
