Page 12 of Slap Shot
"So is your sister Andi older?" Heather asked, sipping her wine.
"By three years. She's the responsible one—married her college sweetheart, two kids, house in the suburbs, the whole domestic dream." Oliver found himself relaxing despite the circumstances. "I'm the one who plays hockey for a living and needed a service dog to function in normal society."
"Charlie's not a sign of weakness," Heather said. "He's a tool that helps you manage a legitimate medical condition. No different from glasses or medication."
The simple acceptance in her voice did something strange to Oliver's chest. Most people were either overly curious about Charlie or determined to pretend the dog wasn't there. Heather treated Charlie's presence as completely normal, which somehow made Oliver feel more normal too.
"What about you?" he asked. "Any siblings?"
"Only child. My parents were both academics. Dad was a computer science professor. Mom taught mathematics. They had me late in life and poured all their ambitions into making sure I could compete in whatever field I chose."
"Is that why you started playing hockey? To compete?"
Heather's expression shifted, and Oliver caught a glimpse of old hurt. "I started playing hockey because I was eight years old and convinced I could do anything boys could do, only better. I kept playing because I was good at it, and because it was the only place where being aggressive and uncompromising was considered an asset rather than a character flaw."
The honesty in her voice made Oliver lean forward slightly. "What happened? I mean, beyond the injury."
Heather took another sip of wine, her fingers unconsciously rubbing her knee through her dress. "Senior year, we had a real shot at winning it all." Her voice grew quieter. "I blew out my knee three games before the tournament. Just a freak play. I got tangled up with a defender going into the corner, heard it pop like a gunshot."
"That must have been devastating."
"It was. But you know what the worst part was? Watching my teammates play without me. Realizing that life just moves on. The team adjusted. Other players stepped up, and suddenly I wasn't essential anymore." She shrugged, but Oliver could seethe old pain in her eyes. "It taught me that no matter how good you think you are, you're always replaceable."
"Do you miss it?"
"Every day." The admission came out quietly, but Oliver heard the truth behind it. "Not just the game, but being part of something bigger than myself. Having teammates who had your back no matter what. Do you ever think about what you'll do when hockey's over?"
The question hit unexpectedly deep. "More than I'd like to admit. Hockey's been my identity for so long, I'm not sure who I am without it."
"You're more than just a hockey player, Oliver."
The way she said his name, like she was tasting it, made his pulse quicken. "Am I?"
"You're brilliant with computers. You see patterns other people miss. You're loyal to the people you care about even when it costs you something." Her green eyes met his directly. "You're kind to animals and patient with teammates who don't understand technology and brave enough to risk everything to protect people who might never know you saved them."
The litany of compliments left Oliver speechless. When was the last time someone had seen him as more than his statistics or his anxiety disorder or his carefully managed public image?
"Heather," he said.
"I know." She set down her wine glass, something shifting in the air between them. "I know this complicates everything."
"What does?"
"The fact that I'm sitting here thinking about how much I'd like to kiss you instead of discussing our hacker problem."
Before he could second-guess himself, he reached across the table to cover her hand with his. Her skin was warm, soft, and when she turned her palm up to thread their fingers together, the last of his resistance crumbled.
"For the record," he said, "I've been thinking the same thing."
"This is a terrible idea," Heather said, but she didn't pull her hand away.
"Probably."
"I can't afford to get involved with someone I'm working with. Not after HR warned me to knock it off."
"I know."
"And you're supposed to be focused on hockey."
