“Andyou came here in …”
Hesipped his coffee and gingerly put the cup down. “I was traded to the Blizzardin 2014. A few months before the Kings won their second cup.”
“Thathad to hurt.”
Amirthless laugh. “Yeah, that one sucked big time.”
Okay.Time to change the subject. “Soyou’re from Michigan. I’ve never picked up the Midwest accent. Born on a farm?”Where your pretend puppy bought it in the hay baler?
“Yep.”
Ithought he wanted to talk?“Um, you still have family back there?”
“My dadand stepmom live there. Believe me, when I visit, the Yooper accent comesroaring back. My mom’s was classic.” He paused to cough. “I have a younger brotherin San Diego. Cooper.”
She satup a little straighter. “I remember. The car. Does he play hockey too?”
“Notprofessionally. He was my shooting target growing up. My buddies and I used todrag his scrawny ass—him out on the ice, prop him up in the net, and take shotsat him,” he chuckled.
“Thatsounds … fun? Not for him, I imagine. Are you close?”
“Not asmuch as I’d like. But with more time on my hands, maybe I can change that.”
“Sowhere will you move once your place is sold?”
“I havea place in the mountains, above Evergreen, one I’ll never sell. I bought itfree and clear years ago and put it in my dad’s trust for the family, so I’mpraying the creditors don’t put the grab on it. I’m really the only one whouses it, but once in a while, we all get together. Those times are special.”
“Yourmom. When did she pass?” she asked softly.
“Shedied when I was twelve and Cooper was eight. Dad remarried shortly after. Idon’t think he wanted to be alone, you know? Marion, his wife, is a nice lady,but we’re not close. She had a few kids of her own when they got together.”
“Thatmust have been hard for you.”
Beckettflashed her a warning look, pain and defeat shadowing his handsome features.The subject was closed. Her heart squeezed.
Sheleaned her elbows on the table. “So tell me about playing for the Cup. Aboutscoring the game winner. About how it felt winning hockey’s holy grail.”
Theshadows lifted, and he let out a soft laugh. “Which part?”
“All ofit.” She smiled. Maybe if he talked about his passion, got lost in the world heloved, he could hold the demons at bay. For a little while.
“It’sgoing to take more than one cup of coffee.”
Sherested her chin in her palm. “I’ve got time for a second cup after all.”
.~ * * * ~.
Beckett reveled in the re-telling. He always did.
“When Itook the shot, I was just trying to get it to the net so a teammate could popit in. Everything seemed to slow way down, like slow-mo. Then suddenly theplace exploded. My teammates were jumping and screaming, throwing down theirgear, mobbing me. It sounded like a roar came from the stands. All thatcommotion, all that noise, that’s when I knew we’d won. And I couldn’t believeit.
“When Igot my turn with the Cup, I swear jolts of electricity went through my fingersand arms. The thing weighs damn near thirty-five pounds, but I barely felt itwhen I lifted it above my head. I skated the rink with it, and there wasn’t adry eye in the place.”
“I betthere was quite the celebration afterward.”
Hiseyes slid to the ceiling while his mind wandered back to the ice and thecelebration that had spilled into the locker room.
“Ohyeah. We hollered and whooped and sprayed each other with champagne and beer. Ican still smell it. We sang ‘We Are The Champions,’ but only the words soundedlike Queen,” he laughed. The euphoria matched nothing he’d ever felt before orsince. “My jaw hurt for a week from smiling so much. What a hell of a ride.”If only Mom could have seen what all her hard work and sacrifice achieved.
Hismind zoomed to what followed: dinner with his Dad, stepmom, and brother;celebrating with teammates and their families; a party that lasted days withhis then-girlfriend, a smoking-hot actress, and her pretty friends. Recollectionsof that debauchery were dim, littered with images of empty handles of liquor,dancing bodies, mounds of cocaine and weed, mind-blowing sex, bowls of Viagraand ecstasy that looked like pastel M&Ms, passed out people. Everything wasto excess—except sleep. Thank God Mom didn’t see that part.
A knotwedged in his throat, and he cleared it with a cough.
Andie’svoice brought him back to the coffee shop. “I watched the parade on TV and sawyou dancing and cheering and playing air guitar on top of a bus.” Her lips werecurved in a smile that exposed her dimple, her light green eyes dancing withamusement. “I remember wondering if you were sober. I’m not sure I would’vebeen.”
Hebelted out a laugh. “I’d been partying for days, so I was in a complete stupor.But I do remember that parade. I’d never had one thrown for me and my teambefore … or since. Something like two hundred and fifty thousand people werethere. It was mind-bending.”
“Didyou do anything special with the bonus money?”
Henodded. “I took care of a promise I’d made my family and bought the mountainplace. I also started a kids’ hockey camp.” Which had fulfilled a promise he’dmade to himself.
Shebrightened. “A hockey camp?”
“It’sclosed now.” Because of my unending fuckups. Without means to continuethe venture, he’d recently shut it down. The memory sat on him like a boulder,so he forced his mind back to winning the Cup.
Twenty-sixyears old and he’d been at the top of the fucking world. And if he could do itagain? Forget the parade, the parties, the girls, the drugs, the booze. All hewanted was one more turn on the ice hoisting the coveted prize, thatresplendent silver Cup, that thing of glory and wonder.
.~ * * * ~.
Later that evening, barefoot, in shorts and a baggy tee,Paige reclined on her couch, her computer open on her lap and a cool breezeruffling her white cotton curtains. She glanced at her phone. No call fromAdrian since yesterday, only a brief text saying he was slammed. She sent hermom the obligatory email, then sipped a cold glass of chardonnay. An
