With his dark beard and muscled physique, Dylan looked every inch the outdoorsmen. If she added a plaid shirt, he'd be an instant lumberjack.
They'd set off on a trail with thick tree cover and for the past hour had traveled over uneven terrain. Some parts were too narrow to pass through side by side. They took turns being first to climb over large tree stumps or downed limbs or hopping across narrow streams, and Dylan had taken every opportunity to hold her hand or touch her arm.
The warm temperature and quiet stillness took her mind far away from hockey and schedules and worries. She smiled at him. "It's so peaceful here. I'm really glad we came."
"Me too. It's like our own private wilderness." Dylan slid his water bottle into the small backpack he'd carried and then laced his fingers with Blair's. "Did you have an okay time with your dad yesterday?"
"It was a bit of a frustrating day. He doesn't like that he needs to go to doctors. Any doctors. So he'll cancel appointments and then tell me that the doctor's office is the one who canceled. I finally caught on to that little trick a few months ago. He can't drive anymore, so either my uncle or I will take him. Yesterday, he argued with the neurologist about everything. He likes to pretend that he's fine, even when it's clear to us that he's not. I love him, but he's so stubborn." She clamped her mouth closed. This was supposed to be a date, not an venting session. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get into all of that. It really is pretty out here, isn't it?"
"Hey." He cupped her jaw and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "It's okay to talk about your dad. It's not good to keep tension inside. I'm here. I'll listen. I'll help however you'll let me."
Tears stung the backs of her eyes at his words. She swallowed them back and pulled him into a hug. Strong arms wrapped around her, caging her in his embrace. "Thank you. I can mostly handle it fine, but every once in a while, it's nice to have someone to lean on."
His hold tightened. "Lean away."
Laughing, she squeezed him even tighter, and stayed like that for a long moment, drawing from his strength. When she had her emotions in check, she kissed his neck and then lowered her arms and stepped back. "I really like it up here. I come here when I get stressed and need to get away."
He made a show of looking all around them. "I might have to steal your spot. The city's in a frenzy with Cup fever. I love all of the support, but it's nice not to see a hockey stick or be in a rink or talk to a reporter right now."
"Are you not enjoying it?" She led them up the next incline. Her legs and lungs were getting a workout.
"I grew up here. Since I was a kid, I've heard so many stories about the Cup-winning team that my Dad was on, and how it mattered to so many people. The players, for sure, but the fans too. They follow all the games and get to know all the players, they're invested in the sport. Ever since I joined the Bedlam, the expectations have been high. People want another Cup. We came so close last year."
"I know. Last year's loss was brutal."
"And now that Rod is here too, the expectations are even higher. We have the right pieces, the right guys. Our team is really strong. We have to win the championship. Otherwise, I've let everyone down." The weariness in his expression, like he carried the weight of the city on his back, tugged on her sympathy.
"It's not all on you, Dylan."
He shrugged and his lips quirked in a half-smile. "It is when you make a confident guarantee at the start of the season."
"I guess the press hasn't forgotten about that."
"No one has." He paused and looked at their joined hands. "After the second concussion, there was a moment about three weeks into it when I had that set-back and the resurgence of the symptoms, and I wondered if it was going to be that way forever. I knew I couldn't play hockey like that, and all I could think was what if I'm forced to retire and I'm not able to deliver on that promise. I got pretty depressed."
"Did you talk to anyone?"
He shook his head. "The guys had just finished the regular season and were preparing for the first round of the playoffs. I didn't want to bring anyone down."
She squeezed his hand. "You can always talk to me."
"Thank you." Dylan pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "I told myself that if I could just get back to good enough, where I would be able to contribute to the team and bring home a Cup, then I would be okay with hanging up my skates after this season."
"Are you still thinking you might retire?"
"I don't have to worry about that anymore. I'm healed." With a wink and a smile, he tugged her toward a more advanced climb.
They hiked up a steep hill with jutting rocks and branches that overlooked a waterfall. The scenery was beautiful, but her mind stayed on his statement. "Do you ever think about what you'll do after you're finished playing hockey?"
"I'd like to stay involved with it in some capacity. Either coaching or scouting. Hockey has been a part of my life since I was a little kid. I can't imagine it being gone for good." Shrugging, he twisted around to face her. "What about you? Do you have plans on being the Bedlam's next head trainer?"
"I think it would be a good step. I've worked really hard to get where I am, and I've
