Two Years Later

 

Sweat dripped from her face and hit the ice, evaporating in an unnoticed wisp of steam. Sammie bit down on the mouth guard and leaned forward, her legs pumping as the blades of her skates tore across the ice.

Shouts—yells and screams of encouragement—disappeared in the rush of blood that echoed in her ears. Push. Harder. Faster.

She closed in on the player from Richmond. Closer. Closer still. But it wasn't close enough, the other woman was going to score—

Not if she had anything to do with it.

Sammie gave one final push and hurled her body through the air with a loud grunt, blocking the puck before it could reach the net. She heard a sharp thud and felt her flesh sting as the puck connected with her jaw just before her body crashed to the ice. Silence and then the sound of a horn splitting the air, accompanied by cheers and applause.

Holy crappola, that hurt. That really hurt. She rolled to her side and pushed up on one elbow as she looked around. Shannon Wiley, their goalie, was racing from the net, a broad smile on her flushed face. And here came Taylor LeBlanc and Dani Baldwin, two of her teammates. They were wearing the same goofy smiles on their faces as they slid to a stop next to her, spraying her with snow. Hands grabbed her, clapping her on the back and helping her from the ice all at the same time. Sammie nodded, shook her head once, then almost stumbled before she regained her balance.

Ouch. Yeah. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

But it was worth it. She stopped that last shot. The Blades won.

"Way to go, Reigler."

"Holy fucking shit, Sammie. You were airborne." Shannon leaned forward and butted her helmet against Sammie's, then patted her on the shoulder so hard, Sammie stumbled again. "Totally airborne. It was abso-fucking-lutely beautiful."

They moved back to the bench as one, all six of them: Sammie and Shannon and Taylor and Dani. Sydney Stevens and Stephanie Mason. All talking at once, drowning out Coach Reynolds's congratulations as they headed off the ice.

Sammie rubbed her jaw and looked around, her gaze coming to a rest on the guy who had been filming the game. "Do you think he caught it on camera?"

"Yeah. Sure. He must have, right?"

"And if he didn't, I'm sure someone did. I'll ask Chuckie later tonight."

Sammie nodded and pushed her way into the locker room with everyone else, the noise of their excited conversation louder in the small room. Everyone was still talking all at once, their excitement at winning another game a living, breathing thing.

Sammie accepted more congratulations then headed over to the bench and started pulling off her gear: helmet, jersey, pads, skates, shorts. She folded everything and neatly placed the equipment in her gear bag, then leaned back on the bench to stretch. Taylor dropped down beside her and leaned forward, her brows lowered over eyes the color of whiskey.

"Look up."

"What?"

"You heard me. Look up." Taylor nudged Sammie's chin with the tip of two fingers. "Yup, thought so. You need a bandage or something."

"I do?"

"Yeah. You're bleeding."

Sammie brushed at her chin then looked down at the blood smeared on her fingertips. "Is it bad?"

"Not too bad. You don't need stitches or anything. Maybe an ice pack, though, because it's already swelling and bruising."

"Yeah?" Sammie tried to stop the smile threatening to break free but failed. Her first real game-related injury. Wasn't that something to be proud of? She reached behind her and pulled the phone from her bag, then tossed it to Taylor. "Here, take a picture."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. I need to have a picture of this and I'm the worst at selfies."

Taylor rolled her eyes but snapped a couple of quick shots. "There. Happy?"

"Yes. I know it's not a big deal to you, but this is a first for me. I need to savor the moment."

"You're such a dork."

"But I'm an adorable dork." Sammie tossed the phone back in her bag then grabbed her toiletries kit and headed for the shower room.

"You're something, alright." Taylor nudged her then headed into one of the showers.

The teasing didn't stop, not even after Sammie had finished with her own shower before receiving a butterfly bandage and an ice pack before piling out of the small rink that served as their home arena. The team was heading to The Ale House, like they did after every game the Blades played at home.

After every game? Sammie laughed to herself. This was only their fifth game, in their very first season of the not-quite-semi-pro league. It still didn't feel real, despite the scrapes and bruises and her now-throbbing chin and jaw.

She had seen the notice about try-outs for the new women's hockey league eight months ago—and had nearly ignored it. A women's hockey league? She didn't stand a chance, not when her only experience had been playing in a beer league a few years ago, in a different lifetime. She didn't have anything to offer, not like the other women she was sure would be trying out. She was short and petite. A single mother. A kindergarten teacher, for crying out loud. What could she possibly offer? What made her think she could even compete?

But the idea, once planted, wouldn't leave her. So she dug out her skates and had them sharpened, then spent several entire weekends on the ice during the public skating sessions at a rink thirty minutes away from her parents' house.

Wondering if it would be enough.

Knowing it wasn't even close to being enough.

It had been thoughts of her daughter that had followed her to the rink that morning when she went to try out. Clare, who'd had her entire life turned upside down more than two years ago. It didn't matter that she wouldn't remember, not the details, anyway. Clare was only three now. A happy, well-adjusted, handful that Sammie treasured more than anything else in the world. But she wanted more for Clare—what parent didn't? She wanted her daughter to see that women could do anything they wanted, that they didn't need a man in their lives to make them complete.

Sammie wanted to be the example her daughter could look up to.

And, by some small miracle that Sammie still didn't understand, she'd been offered a spot on the team—and a contract. No, it wasn't much, barely a couple of hundred dollars per game, money that scarcely covered the cost of equipment and practices and time away from home for their road games.

But it was something. Sammie could proudly tell everyone that she was a professional hockey player—kind of. And she had new friends—family, really. Women just like her, trying to prove to the world that they could do anything they wanted, and do it better than anyone expected.

She still couldn't believe she had nearly thrown it all away. Not just her—all of them. The entire team. They had all been prepared to quit yesterday, when they'd had a showdown of sorts with the owner.

Only time would tell if anything they'd said would make a difference, but Sammie thought it might.

And holy crappola, Sammie still couldn't believe they'd done it, confronted the owner that way. That she'd done it. It shouldn't be so hard to believe, not really. She was a different person than she'd been two years ago—her daughter's life wasn't the only one that had been turned upside down.

But that was a long time ago. She needed to keep her promise to herself and not look back, needed to keep focusing forward. And for the most part, she could. It helped having family.

And friends.

Even if those friends were a little on the crazy side. Like Shannon, who once again was standing on the chair. She paused, whipped the long blonde hair from her face, then looked down at Sammie with a wide grin.

"To the D-man who made a brilliant save! Just don't get any ideas about taking over my job, Short Stuff."

The women around her laughed and cheered, raising their glasses in a toast. Sammie did the same, taking a small sip of her soda just as Shannon yelled "Heads-up."

Sammie looked up, saw a flash of black heading her way, and managed to get her hand up just in time to deflect it. The puck bounced off her wrist and rolled across the table before coming to a stop against a pitcher of beer. Shannon shook her head then jumped off the chair and reached for the puck. "Okay, I take it back. I don't have to worry about you taking over my job."

"It's not like I was expecting you to throw something at me. What is it, anyway?"

"The game puck. Duh." Shannon tossed it through the air again, an easy lob that Sammie caught this time. She stared down at it as a lump of emotion formed in her throat.

"The game puck? Really? For me?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Reigs. Don't go getting all emotional or anything, okay?"

"I'm not." Sammie's denial only caused her teammates to laugh, which made the lump in her throat grow bigger. She blinked against the sudden burning in her eyes and reached for her soda, hoping nobody would notice the way her eyes were watering. They did, of course. She held her breath, waiting for the teasing to start again, but it didn't come.

Probably because Dani kicked Shannon under the table and told her to stop before she could start.

"I wasn't going to tease her about crying. Honest." Shannon leaned across the table, a crooked grin on her face. "I was just going to tell you I think you might have a fan."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"That guy over there. He was watching you."

Nine heads turned in the direction Shannon indicated. Sammie looked but couldn't see anyone—male or female—looking their way. And she certainly didn't see anyone who looked even a little bit interesting. "Where? I don't see anyone."

"He was just there. I swear it."

Dani grabbed the glass from Shannon's hand and held it away from her. "That's it. You're cut off. No more."

"Hey, that's my first beer. Give it back."

"No. You're seeing things."

"The hell I am. I'm telling you, there was some guy checking Sammie out."

"Yeah? Then what did he look like?"

"Tall. Dark—"

"And handsome?" Sammie finished Shannon's sentence with a giggle. "I could only hope to be so lucky."

"That's not what I was going to say." Shannon retrieved her beer from Dani then drained it one long swallow. She put the glass down, gave a small belch, then looked past Sammie, a frown on her face. "I was going to say intense. Or maybe brooding. Something like that."

"But not handsome? Gee, way to get me all excited over nothing." Sammie pushed away from the table and grabbed her small purse. "I need to go pee."

"Hang on, I'll go with you."

"Shannon, I'm a big girl. I can go by myself."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe I just need to pop the seal."

Several of their teammates groaned, but instead of taking the bait like she normally would, Shannon simply ignored them. She grabbed Sammie's elbow and started leading the way across the crowded bar, glancing over her shoulder every few feet.

Sammie tugged her arm from Shannon's grip. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me? Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're acting funny. Weird. Whatever. More than normal."

"No, I'm not. I'm just—" She hesitated, looking over her shoulder again. "I don't know. Call it a feeling."

"A feeling? Like what, a full bladder?"

"No. I told you, there really was a guy checking you out."

"Maybe. But he's gone now—if he was ever even there."

"He was."

"Hmm. If you say so." Sammie pushed through the restroom door then bit back a sigh at the line. Of course there was a line. There always was.

"I say so. And I told you, he looked…intense."

"Yeah. So?" Sammie shoved her hands into the front pockets of her slacks and tried to cross her legs without being obvious about it.

"So I figured maybe you shouldn't go wandering off by yourself, that's all."

"I think you're overreacting. Or seeing things. There was no guy." She held up her hand, stopping Shannon before she could say anything. "And if there was, he was probably staring at you. I mean, you were the one standing on a chair and throwing stuff. Besides, men don't stare at me."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because they don't. I don't exactly stand out, you know."

"Well, you kind of do now, with that bruise on your jaw. It looks like you went three rounds in a boxing ring and lost."

"Then that must be what your mystery man was staring at." If he even existed, which Sammie seriously doubted. Shannon was either seeing things, or just being melodramatic.

"Yeah. I guess. I still think—"

Sammie waved her off and made a mad dash toward a newly-opened stall, ignoring Shannon's laughter as she slammed the door shut.

There were more important things to worry about than Shannon's mystery-man, and this happened to be one of them.