Page 56 of Hooked
“Three years ago,” Honor repeated, narrowing her eyes at me. “There's that number again. Same time you were traded. Same time you switched sticks.”
I gulped and tried to play it off like a coincidence. “Yeah, huh. How 'bout that. I guess you're right.”
“What was her name?”
“Doesn't matter,” I grumbled.
Her forehead creased with worry. Before, when she ran face-first into that brick wall, she looked determined to find another way around it. But now? She looked like she'd realized she reallyhadhit the wall, and was about to give up on getting around it altogether.
So we made small talk instead. The weather. The wine. But I could sense her disappointment with all that surface bullshit.
“Okay,” I sighed. “Fine. My last girlfriend. Her name reallydoesn'tmatter. But, if you have to know, it was Vanessa.”
Relief flooded her face. That look alone? I'd live for it. I needed to see that look on her face more.
“Tell me about Vanessa.”
“She moved to New York from Texas our junior year of high school. That's when we met and started dating. She was my high school sweetheart.”
“Oh …”
“The only girl I'd ever been with up to that point in my life.”
Honor frowned. “What happened?”
“I got drafted, and made it into the league in my rookie year. Once I started earning that big NHL paycheck? She moved in with me, and things were going great. I thought things couldn't get any better. So I proposed.”
“Did she turn you down?”
“No. She said yes.”
“Oh. Er. So what happened?”
“She cheated. I found out a few months before the wedding.”
“Oh, Hunter.” Honor reached across the table and grabbed my hand with hers. “I'm sorry.”
“It's okay.” I shook my head and laughed. “You know what's crazier?”
“What?”
“Remember Chris Cunningham?”
“That creep from Boston? God, how could I forget.”
“Yeah. That creep was my teammate, my best friend. Or so I thought. Until I found out he was banging Vanessa,my fiance,on the regular.”
Her jaw dropped. “No.”
“Yup.”
“What could she possibly see inhim?Ew.”
I blew out an angry gust. “Dunno. Don't care. Hate 'em both.”
I could see the puzzle pieces falling into place for her. “And … isthatwhy you were traded?”
I sighed again. “Yup. The day I found out? I spent all night drinking. We had practice the next day. I showed up way late, still drunk. The boys were already on the ice when I got there. I threw on my skates, ran out, grabbed Cunningham and started swinging. Everyone was so pissed. The coaches sat us both down and kept asking what the hell had gotten into us, but neither of us said a word. I just told them I'd played my last game for Boston and demanded that they trade me.”
