Page 128 of Lucky Laces
Forty-Two
Hudson
I don’t likethe way Pat looks at Diana as he boards the team plane, but he doesn’t do more than glare before heading to the back of the plane.
“I’ll catch you later,” I tell DeeDee as she sits down with her coaching staff.
I’ll be napping after a game that kicked my ass in a way that had me feeling every minute of the two weeks off.
Meanwhile, since it’s fresh in their brains, Dee and her coaching team will be going over the matchup against the Sierra for the first time tonight—looking for all the ways we can improve.
And yeah, I know there arealwaysthings to clean up, but for tonight, they’ll be looking at small tweaks.
Because we killed them.
Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much of a blowup against the Sierra.And definitely not on their home ice.
CertainlyI’venever been part of one.
And yeah, we’re going to have a battle on our hands the next time we play them, that’s for damn sure, but I’m still grinning as I stride down the aisle and plunk my ass in an empty seat.
Because that’s the game.
That’s the sport.
Every play, every shift, every game a battle.The season long and intense and, sometimes, surprising.You never know when the hockey gods are going to smile down on you so you throw every bit of effort into soaking up each and every moment—good, bad, or otherwise.
Because who knows how long the ride will last.
Andthat’swhy I love what I do.
Hockey’s in my blood, it speaks to my soul.
And it feels fucking great to be back.
“No, honey,” I hear and glance up to see Rhodes striding down the aisle, his cell pressed to his ear.“Olive and Pear don’t need clothes.They’re cats.They have fur.”
I bite back a laugh.
Apparently not very well considering the dark look he tosses my direction as he sinks down into the seat next to me.
“And anyway,” he mutters, dropping his bag and shoving it under the seat in front of him, “you really should be in bed.It’s late.Where’s Finn?”
He goes ramrod stiff and I straighten, amusement gone.
“She’s sick?”he says.“How sick?”Then he shakes his head, like he realizes that’s a ridiculous question to ask a four-year-old who can’t possibly discern the difference.“Listen, baby”—his voice goes gentle—“I’ll be home in a little over an hour.”
Luckily we’re in Tahoe and the flight time isn’t long.
“Can you do me a favor and be an extra big girl?”He pauses, waiting for her to answer.“Oh, good.Thanks, baby.Now can you go in Finn’s bedroom and keep an eye on her for me?”
I stop, considering that.Because it doesn’t make any sense.
She’s four.
Finn’s an adult.
Then I realize that stubborn, precocious Chloe likely wouldn’t go back intoherbedroom, not just because her dad told her to.But recruit her to his side—being a big girl, looking out for one of her favorite people?
