Page 259 of Playing the Pucking Game
“I want to do something with food,” she predictably explains. “Being in the kitchen, making things for people...it’s becoming my happy place. I want to see if I can turn it into something.”
“You don’t need to go to school to learn how to cook,” I point out.
“No, I know. I’m thinking more nutrition, dive into the science behind it all.”
“Oh, you should do sports nutrition. It’s huge and pays incredibly well. Diet is so important to pro athletes. We could hook you up with Jade Easton, the team’s nutritionist. She’s really lovely. I’m sure she’d be able to answer questions if you were interested in going down that route.”
“Maybe,” Freya muses. “It’s a big commitment. I want to make sure it’s the right decision.”
“Anything that makes you happy will be the right decision,” I assure her.
“You’re coming to the game tomorrow, right?” Casey asks.
“Sure am. Dad is super excited about the tickets you secured.”
“Aw, he’s so welcome. It’s going to be a good night.”
“Possibly not for Rett and the Bandits.”
“That’s because our boys are far superior,” Casey states. “Have you told him you’re living with Linc yet?”
“No,” I say on a groan. “And I don’t intend to until after the game.”
“Yes, Monroe,”Killer shouts, as he manages to steal the puck from Linc and dart around toward the goal, where Handsy is waiting for him.
He pulls his stick back, ready to make a slap shot, but Linc has already recovered and is faster.
The second Monroe leaves the puck unattended, Linc steals it back.
“Motherfucker,” Monroe curses, taking off behind Linc again.
I’ve been sitting here watching them run drills with Hayden now for almost an hour.
The kid is exhausted, but at no point has he lost the smile on his face.
He was born to be here, there is no doubt about that. But he’s a rookie, and the guys surrounding him have years of experience playing.
Linc skates closer, and the second his eyes lock with mine, he winks.
I feel like a schoolgirl all over again. Only now, he’s giving me the attention I always craved.
I used to sit like this, watching him and Rett, always begging for him to look my way.
He suddenly turns, and I shriek when he hits the boards.
“You should join us,” he shouts.
“What?” I ask, assuming I misheard him.
“Go and get some skates.”
“That’s crazy. I can’t. You’re practicing.”
“We finished hours ago. We’re just putting in extra time.”
“Exactly. You’re working.”
Sure, I’ve been on the ice fairly recently. Casey and I brought Sutton here while the guys were away last year, but that’s stopped now that I’m travelling with them. But despite all my years playing, there is no way I could hold my own against them.
