3. Lila

Chapter 3

Lila

Two weeks before training camp started, the Pittsburgh Bearcats ownership threw a party for players and their families. They'd rented out one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, and by the time I arrived, there were already three news vans parked outside.

That part wasn't a surprise. This city took its sports seriously, and everyone was excited as hell to have a WHPL team. Pittsburgh had been putting in bids to the League since the inaugural year, and they'd finally been selected during the most recent expansion. I'd heard some of the other cities had been a bit more tepid in their receptions; the teams had played in front of near-sellout crowds, but the local media and sports culture just pretended they didn't exist.

Not Pittsburgh. I'd come here during my first season for an exhibition game when the League was still feeling out cities for upcoming expansions. The crowd had been huge and wild , the hunger for women's hockey palpable in ways it hadn't been in other cities. When the League announced Pittsburgh would be part of the most recent expansion, I didn't imagine anyone was surprised.

So no, it wasn't a shock to see the local news here. I kind of hoped they weren't on the guest list, though. I was looking forward to spending time with my new teammates and coaching staff without camera lenses and microphones in our faces. There'd be plenty of that once training camp started, and even more during the season. Not my favorite part of being a pro, but if that was the price of admission—and it was—I'd take it with a smile.

As I stepped into the restaurant, I was pleased to see that there weren't any giant cameras or blinding lights set up. I recognized Tanya Jackson, who I was pretty sure was the Bearcats' team reporter, but she didn't have a microphone in her hand or a camera nearby. Probably just here to meet the team like everyone else. After all, she'd be traveling with us, interviewing us in locker rooms, and basically our shadow for the duration; made sense for her to make introductions now.

Since she was a familiar face and didn't seem to be busy, I made my way over to her. I was two steps away when she turned, and her face lit up.

"Hams!" She opened her arms. "I was so excited when I saw you were coming to Pittsburgh!"

I smiled and accepted the brief hug. "I'm looking forward to playing here." As I released her, I kept my smile in place. "Better weather than Omaha, right?"

Tanya laughed and rolled her eyes. "That's a low bar. But after a couple of winters in Minneapolis"—she grimaced—"I won't complain about the weather anywhere. "

"Pfft." Marci, the team's PR director, appeared beside us, handing one of two glasses in her hands to Tanya. "Blah, blah, blah, horrible winters." She took a sip from the other glass. "Get back to me about bad weather when you've spent a summer in New Orleans."

I wrinkled my nose. "Eww. No thanks."

"Uh-huh." She tipped her drink toward me. "Exactly."

With the weather small talk having broken the ice, we chatted about the trials and tribulations of moving, what we liked about Pittsburgh so far, and the neighborhoods we were living in. Marci and her husband had been here for years—she'd been working for the men's team up through last season—and they'd bought a house near Cranberry. Like me, Tanya had found a nice rental in the North Hills, about halfway between Cranberry (where the team practiced) and downtown (where we played).

"How are you handling the hills?" Tanya asked with a playful smirk. "I feel like after Nebraska, you'd get altitude sickness stepping onto a curb."

I laughed. "Hey, you joke, but after a year there, my ears pop driving up hills that I wouldn't have even noticed before. That place is flat . But it's nice having some actual hills here. And trees. God, I love the trees ."

For a second, I was afraid they'd think I'd lost my mind, being so happy about stupid trees, but they both nodded.

"I went to college in New Mexico," Marci said. "I'm all about trees now."

"New Mexico, huh?" I arched an eyebrow. "But you didn't want to take the job with the Albuquerque team?" That team had made me an offer as well, and I'd gone back and forth for a while before settling on Pittsburgh.

"Ugh. No ," Marci said. "Don't get me wrong—I liked it there. I really did. But that dry climate and I do not get along." She made a face and lowered her voice a little. "There was also no way in hell I was working with Vanessa Barkley."

Tanya and I both leaned in, eager for the gossip.

There wasn't anything scandalous—and like everyone in this room, Marci was way too media-trained to tell us if there was— but apparently Marci and Vanessa had played hockey together in college, and they hadn't gotten along well.

"Too much alike," Marci admitted. "We're both happy being chefs in our own kitchens, but neither of us wants to be the other's line cook, if that makes sense."

Oh, it did. There was nothing worse than two people trying to lead the same group in opposite directions, especially when they were trying to lead each other as well. From the sound of it, Marci and Vanessa were perfectly friendly as long as they were just colleagues. Put one in charge of the other? Well… I could see why Marci hadn't taken the offered position.

I chatted with Marci and Tanya for another ten or fifteen minutes, and then we all drifted in different directions to mingle with everyone else from the team.

There were a lot of familiar faces in this room, which didn't surprise me. Hockey was a small sport, and most of us had crossed paths at one time or another, whether in our youth days, major juniors, college, or international competition. At the very least, I could put names with faces even if we didn't know each other personally.

I got a little thrill at the sight of Val—Jenny Valentine. We'd played together for a season in major juniors, and she was a power forward. She was five-foot-nothing, so she didn't have much reach, but she had speed to burn and could maneuver both herself and a puck through people in ways that seemed to defy physics. I couldn't wait to see her play at this level.

Talking to her—and towering over her because she was like six-two—was Anastasia Ilyasov. When her name had been called during the expansion draft, I'd shouted so loud I'd startled my roommate. What could I say? I was thrilled to be playing alongside the woman who held our major junior league's records for both hat tricks and shorthanded goals.

Not far from Anastasia and Val, Simone Yates had her toddler on her hip and a glass of wine in her other hand. I was thrilled to have her here, too. Sims and I had been D partners at one World Junior Women's and at the Olympics, and I had my fingers crossed the coaches paired us up again. She was a solid stay-at-home defender, which gave me the freedom to play more offensively without worrying I was leaving our zone unprotected. We were a perfect match. I hoped the powers that be agreed.

I wanted to go say hello, but she was chatting with her wife and a couple of women I didn't recognize. I thought one of them might be Euli Eskola, an amazing defender from Finland who I'd played against once or twice. The other looked like Nora Bille, a defender from Denmark who I'd almost gotten into a fight with at junior worlds. There was no bad blood there—it was hockey, and despite the sexist rules, fights did happen sometimes—but I didn't know either of them personally yet.

I didn't want to interrupt their conversation, so I kept wandering the room in search of familiar faces.

I locked on to one such familiar face, and my mood dipped a little. Colin Harvey. Anyone who knew hockey would've recognized him in an instant. He was a great guy from all accounts, but the fact that he was here bugged me. They'd invited players from the men's league? Probably to give us some more legitimacy. Ugh. As if we needed that endorsement. I mean, don't get me wrong—I appreciated that the men's league had been so enthusiastic and supportive, and they'd played a huge role in getting our league off the ground. I wasn't oblivious to that. But couldn't we stand on our own now? Did we need the guys at our events to make them real?

Apparently so. Yay.

But… then I recognized the woman standing beside him—Anya Apalkov. Also known as… our star goalie.

I turned away and took a long drink. Wow. I had completely forgotten they were a couple. Colin wasn't here to endorse women's hockey—he was here to support his wife .

Some warmth rose in my face, and I silently chastised myself. Why was I so damn prickly about everything? I'd been cynical for a long time—hard not to be when I was part of a women's league breaking into a male-dominated sport—but lately I'd just been… I didn't even know. On edge. More pessimistic than usual. Looking for every reason imaginable to throw up my hands and yell "Fuck!"

Could've been the long recovery on my knee. Missing most of last season and spending so many months rehabbing hadn't done great things to my optimism or positivity about much of anything. That came with the territory sometimes.

Getting signed with Pittsburgh had been a bright spot for a little while, but even that had dimmed pretty quickly. Like the shine wearing off a cheap, badly-plated medal, it had gone from gleaming and exciting to… not.

What is wrong with me?

But then my gaze snagged on another teammate, and it all started to make sense.

Sabrina McAvoy.

She was near the edge of the room, talking with Chloe Morin and Hannah Reilly, our GM and head coach, respectively. She was listening to something Chloe was saying, smiling in a way that seemed genuine.

I didn't want to admit it, but she looked good tonight. She always had—hockey players were my catnip anyway, and she had the audacity to be seriously hot. In a tailored sapphire blue suit with her dark hair tumbling loose over her shoulders, she was… God, she was criminally attractive.

Like me, she was on the taller end for players; I was a hair under six foot, and if I recalled from her stats, she was about five ten. She had that slim but powerful hockey build that made my mouth water—hips and thighs for days, arms and shoulders that made me glad she was wearing a jacket right now so I didn't start openly drooling.

I took refuge in my drink again and pulled my attention away from her. She was, fortunately, still talking to our head coach and GM, so she hopefully hadn't noticed me staring at her. I was grateful she hadn't looked my way, both so she didn't bust me and because for all I disliked her, I found those dark eyes absolutely mesmerizing.

Maybe it was just as well that I couldn't stand her. If I actually liked her as much as I was attracted to her, I probably wouldn't be able to skate around her.

Why can't I be attracted to someone I like?

Ah well. I'd only been in Pittsburgh for a little while. I had plenty of time to meet women who weren't insufferable and unavoidable like my teammate.

Teammate. Ugh. Great. That meant that for the next few seasons, none of us would be able to do anything without commentators and reporters bringing Sabrina into the equation. I hated that no one could talk about Anastasia's accomplishments and records without also mentioning that Sabrina had the primary or secondary assist on most of her goals. It was like no one could exist in the same place as her without being described as if they were in her orbit. All roads led to Rome, and all scoring titles and achievements in women's hockey somehow led back to Sabrina McAvoy.

I could grudgingly admit she also received a lot of praise she deserved. Watching her play sometimes filled me with envy. Her strong but seemingly effortless skating—the speed, the agility, the way she could maneuver while also protecting the puck—I'd have killed to be half that good. She also saw the ice in ways so many people didn't; it was like she was always three steps ahead of everyone and knew exactly where to be or where to send the puck. There were moments when everyone from the commentators on down wondered what in the world she was doing, but then the puck would suddenly be in the back of the net, leaving us all wondering what just happened.

Imagine how many other players would be that good if they'd had access to all the training and resources she did.

Okay, I needed another drink. Maybe a stronger one this time. Sabrina was here, I was here, and I wasn't going to let her presence sour this whole experience—both the party and playing for Pittsburgh. I just needed to get the hell over it, focus on hockey, and ignore the talking heads who screeched her name like trained parrots.

I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders, and headed for the bar. As the bartender poured me a beer, someone appeared beside me, and I had a split second to worry that Sabrina wanted to talk to me for some reason. Just what I needed.

Then I realized who it was—Faith Adamo, my best friend. She was my roommate here in Pittsburgh, too, and she'd been hired as the team's skills coach.

"Hey." She nudged my elbow and said in a stage whisper, "We're at a party, not a game."

"Not a—I know." I eyed her. The bartender handed me my drink, so I paused to thank him, then turned to Faith as we stepped away from the bar. "I know we're at a party. That's why I'm in this." I gestured at my suit.

"Mmhmm." She cocked her head. "But you have your murder face on."

"My—" Oh. Crap. I cleared my throat and schooled my expression. Media-trained as I was, I could still forget myself sometimes and let my mood show through. "Better?"

She giggled. "You don't look like you're about to dump your drink on someone, so… yes."

I managed a laugh, which made the less hostile expression easier to maintain. "I'm fine. I'm just—"

"Hams!" a voice broke through the noise. "Oh my God!"

I turned toward the sound, and my mood brightened a little as Joanna Lawson—Laws, as she was called—crossed the room. She was tiny, not even five feet tall, and there was a reason she was described as "sunshine off the ice and a fireball on it." She was an absolute menace out there—a lightning fast skater, a wicked sniper, and a fearless fighter if she was pushed far enough—but once the buzzer went off, she was the sweetest person in the world. We'd played together in major juniors and against each other at the Olympics.

When she was close enough, she squealed, "Hey!" Then she pulled me down into a tight hug. "I was so excited when I saw that you were signed here too!" Releasing me, she met my gaze with a huge grin on her face. "I can't believe we get to play together again!"

"I know, right?" I couldn't help smiling, my irritation fleeing in the light of my teammate's smile. Gesturing at Faith, I added, "You remember Faith, don't you?"

Laws's eyes lit up, and she hugged Faith, too. "Of course I do." She scowled playfully at my roommate. "I'll never forget you mugging me at the Olympics."

Faith laughed and shrugged. "It isn't like it made a big impact on the game or anything. Ooh, waaait…"

Laws rolled her eyes and tsked as Faith and I shared a fist bump. "Too bad we beat you in overtime, eh?"

We all chuckled. That gold medal final between Team USA and Team Canada had been intense, and Canada had finally beaten us in triple overtime. Disappointing, sure, but we'd earned the hell out of our silver medals, so I had no complaints.

Well, aside from everyone acting like we'd only made it that far in the first place because we'd been blessed with the Goddess McAvoy's talent and—

I dismissed those thoughts and took another swallow of beer.

Fortunately, Laws's wife joined us right then with their three-year-old perched on her hip. Introductions were made, and we all fawned over Reagan; who wouldn't? The kid was adorable.

Naturally, though, the conversation quickly shifted back to hockey.

Laws looked at me. "So how's your knee doing?" She grimaced. "I was so scared you wouldn't be able to come back after what happened last season."

I suppressed a shudder. I still had nightmares about that game. That awful moment when I'd realized something in my knee had moved in a way it shouldn't have. That pop. The way my knee had been an explosion of both pain and instability. The panic, the certainty my career had just ended—it was burned into my memory in the most visceral way.

"I was worried myself," I admitted. "But it wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be."

"A torn ACL wasn't that bad?" She gaped. "I'd have been freaking out!"

"Oh, I was. But honestly, the doctors told me pretty early on that I'd recover. They always recommend sitting out most of the season after that just to make sure it heals right. And they figured as long as they were going in to fix the ACL, they might as well clean up some of the other issues, so…" I half-shrugged to mask another shudder. "It wasn't fun, but my leg is a lot better now." I bent and straightened it as if to emphasize my point. "I'm good!"

"That's great!" Laws sounded genuinely relieved. "I'd bet money you'll be on the first power play unit."

I smiled. "Well, let's hope I impress the coaches."

Faith and Laws both scoffed, and I laughed. I was proud of what I brought to a team's power play. Omaha had had the number three power play in the League the season before last, and I had no qualms about acknowledging my part in that. This was a sport that had taken a long time to get the respect it demanded, and I wasn't about to shy away from the respect I'd earned on that ice.

Laws dropped her voice a little. "Can you believe they signed Sabrina McAvoy? What a score!"

Annnd… there went my brighter mood.

Struggling to keep my media smile in place, I said, "Yeah. That was… We're definitely lucky to have her."

"We are! I mean, we have Sabrina McAvoy, and we have a healthy Lila Hamilton." She clapped her hands and bounced on her feet. "This season is going to be amazing!"

Of course there was always that qualifier—a healthy Lila Hamilton. Because everyone knew I was an asset as long as my knee was cooperating. The instant it was out of whack, I was a liability who needed to either retire or be launched into the sun. Yeah, I read the comments on articles and social media. I knew how people felt about me.

But hey, if my knee decided to be stupid, maybe no one would notice this time because the spotlight would be so focused on the dynastic generational talent we were so blessed to have.

I sipped my drink but didn't really taste it.

Maybe I should've accepted that offer to play in Albuquerque after all.