Chapter 6

Hannah

M y tongue forgets how to move, and I don't even know what words are anymore. Logically I knew I'd sit with him at some point, but now he's sitting across from me. How am I supposed to act? Do I treat him like I should when I have a PR meeting with him? Or when I see him in passing at a party Lou throws? Or do I give into my wildest dream and pretend this is an actual date? The warm fuzzies I was feeling have completely disappeared and I'm completely frozen by my nerves.

"Hannah?" Matt asks. His face growing more concerned the longer I take to answer.

"Umm..." I reach for my drink only to find it's empty from all the nervous sips I've had tonight. There's nothing but ice left in my cup.

"I'll get you another." Matt leaves, and I try to get myself back to normal.

When he returns with a drink for me, I take it gratefully. I take a sip, surprised to find it's a Diet Coke with lime. How did he know that I didn't want a regular Coke? I shake off the thought, the bartender must have remembered.

"Lou drag you here?" I ask him.

He makes the briefest of eye contact with me before looking away. "Something like that."

I pick up my pen to fill out my card with his information and spot the number on his nametag. "Thirteen?" I ask.

"Same as my jersey."

"I know. I'm just surprised they still had that number for you. There are a lot of people here."

"People are superstitious, skipped right over it until I asked for it."

We're silent, him lost in thought, me lost to my nerves, and drinking more of my Diet Coke. I'm going to have to visit the lady's room at this rate.

He lets out a chuckle so soft I almost didn't catch it thanks to the music and chatter around the pub.

I look at him, "What?"

He lifts a hand to point across the pub to where Lou is sitting across from Maria in another booth. Maria's arms are crossed and she glares at him as if he said something outrageous. Like gluten-free tastes the same as the real thing.

"Who do you think is going to win that standoff?" I ask.

"Maria, easy."

"You don't have any faith in Lou? That's your teammate."

One eyebrow rises in question. "And?"

"Where's your team loyalty?"

He just levels me with a stare.

"Okay but shouldn't it be all bros with you guys? You've been friends for years."

"He's your brother. Shouldn't you have some family loyalty?"

"My brother has spent the better part of my life trying to be in control of it."

"Why do you let him?"

I grimace. "Let is a strong word."

"Then tell me."

"I don't know who I am anymore," I say.

He frowns, and my hand itches to smooth the scar on his forehead that's become more pronounced.

"How can you not know?" He asks me. "You're smart, and kind. Otherwise, you wouldn't have set up the sponsorship with that youth hockey team."

"But that's hockey. My life revolves around it. Who am I without hockey? I once thought I'd be on Jeopardy, but that was probably too much time at Grandma's while Lou had hockey practice."

He leans forward, putting his arms on the table. He's a big guy, but it's his presence that is making me feel safe. He owns his body and energy in a way that makes space for me to own mine too. He's comfortable being him, and doesn't need me to tone down anything about myself. Unlike some of the other men I've talked to tonight that make me feel like I'm one comment away from wanting to go home and burn this suit.

"My dad gave me some advice when I decided to go pro. He told me it's not what you do, it's how you do it. It's not that I play hockey, it's how I play it. Do I play dirty; do I make clean plays? Or do I fight at the drop of the puck? PR is what you do now, but that isn't why you go to Maria's bakery or make sure Penelope's got her favorite snacks for a game. Hockey isn't why you shared your notes with me in English. You can go anywhere, but that wouldn't change the sparkle that's Hannah."

His words are a balm for a wound I've only just discovered, and it has me looking away so he doesn't see me blink away the emotion I feel.

"So I don't need to brush up on my trivia?" I tease, trying to shake away the seriousness.

He points to a sign in one of the windows. "Maybe start with Trivia night."

I look at the sign advertising Tuesday Trivia, and just as I start to warm up to the idea I see a detail that kills it. I need a partner to participate.

The bell rings before either of us can say more.

Matt slowly gets to his feet and the position causes him to tower over me. I feel... not small, but dainty for once in my life, as he picks up my hand from where I have it set on the table. He starts to lift it up towards him, and goosebumps are rapidly climbing my arm.

Is he...?

Could he be...?

I think he's going to kiss my hand. I'm not prepared for this at all. Am I supposed to bat my eyelashes coyly like an eighteenth-century debutante? Can I make myself blush prettily on purpose? Is it getting hot in here?

"Bro! Move on." My next date has stepped up beside Matt, and he taps his shiny wristwatch dramatically. "Time's up."

Matt sets my hand down, and the glare he gives the other guy is much too similar to the one he uses when he stares down an opponent on the ice. Shiny wristwatch guy flinches and then straightens his pink polo-covered shoulders and lifts his chin.

"Treat her like a lady," Matt tells him, before he walks to the next table.

The rest of the night is filled with men that just don't measure up to Matt. The rest of Ben's hockey friends filter through, some subtle while others aren't, as they ask for tickets to games. The short one even asks if I'll get him the team's autograph. They spend so much time gushing with their love for the team and hockey, I make sure to check no on my card for each and every one of them. Hockey and Lou fill enough of my days, the last thing I want is for it to fill all my free time too.

When the Sweetheart Shuffle finally comes to an end I take my time at my table. I'm making sure my card is filled out, when I see the spot by Matt's isn't. I didn't have time between Matt and shiny wristwatch guy. Even without meeting the love of my life, I don't regret spending tonight speed dating. I have a quest now, be better at the work-life balance thing, and discover what else I can do with who I am. I am kind and smart. I smile as I think about Matt's words.

"I hope that smile means you have a hot date set up." Maria says as she slides next to me, Lou not far behind her. "And it better not be number five. I call dibs."

The snort, that's far from ladylike, comes out of me without any warning. "Mama's Basement five?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I like a family man."

Lou glowers at her. "I'll show you a family man."

"What does that even mean?" Maria asks him.

He leans closer to her, and she stands her ground. "Someone that's never grown up enough to live without the apron strings isn't worthy of you."

"I happen to like aprons." Maria snaps back.

"That's not what I meant." Lou groans.

Completely ignoring Lou she looks at me. "I need to head home so I can get some sleep before I have to put on my apron tomorrow."

"Do you need a ride?" I ask her. "My car is out front."

She pulls out her phone. "I'll order an Uber. It's too bad Charlotte never made it."

Lou is scowling at her as he says, "You're not getting in a stranger's car. I'll drive you."

She rolls her eyes. "How about not."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lou asks. "I live right by you, we're literally going in the same direction."

Maria just shakes her head at him and walks out the door, with Lou following after.

W ork the next day is going as well as cheese-grating a rock, as my grandma used to say. Hard, and doesn't serve a purpose. The meeting with finance to go over the budget for the rest of the month is the worst part of my job. Tiffany always takes the opportunity to scrutinize my expenses and requests down to each penny. While I can appreciate the desire to account for it, the entire process doesn't help with my headache. If I don't get a snack and pills soon, I'll have a migraine by lunch.

"Tell me why you need to go to the Minnesota away games with the team?" Tiffany asks me.

I take a calming breath. I've answered this question multiple times now. "Because it's a player's hometown and will allow me to get material for highlighting said player."

"You mean your brother Lou."

"Yes." I force out. "Each hometown visit we've done for the team has driven clicks up seven percent, and brings sales up. I'm only asking for a spot on the plane with the team."

"Don't you have enough home material for him since you grew up together?"

"Not the kind for this media kit."

My mother has planned every spare minute of the days Lou and I will be in town. There will be no less than two mandatory parties with friends, and family. The baby shower, and barbecue were what I knew of now. But no doubt I'll be expected to be there early for set up and have to stay late for clean up.

The head of finance leans forward in his chair. "It's approved, let's move on."

Tiffany narrows her eyes at me, clearly she wasn't done with the matter even if her boss said it was. We'll be doing the same song and dance at the next meeting together on whatever expense she didn't like me submitting. The rest of the meeting wraps up with a lot less scrutiny.

By the time I am able to return to my office, all I want is to slip behind my desk and sit in a few minutes of blissful silence as the pills settle in. I am halfway to my office when Matt comes out of the break room, a muffin in his hand.

"Any lemon bars for Lou?" Matt asks me.

I shake my head, and the motion makes my head hurt worse, and my stomach starts to turn. I need to get to my pills fast. "No, Maria said she burned them. And even if she dislikes him, she despises serving anything but her best."

"Did you get one earlier... what's wrong?" he asks me.

"I'll be fine. I didn't drink enough water yesterday."

He guides me into the break room so effortlessly and has a glass of water in my hand a minute later. "Drink that. I'll get you another one to take to your office."

I sip at the water slowly at first so I can see how my stomach will handle it. The last thing I want to do is throw up in front of him. Food will be better for the pills I need to take. The box from Maria's bakery is relatively full as I'd barely had time to drop it off before running to the meeting.

The banana nut muffin I pick to be safe, is my first mistake. The big bite I take is my second. It tastes too much like cinnamon because I didn't grab a banana one. I try to choke it down gracefully, but my body forgets how to swallow. The longer the muffin bite sits on my tongue the more my stomach rolls in revulsion.

Without a word, I shove the glass in Matt's hand and run for the bathroom. Once my body is finished rejecting the muffin, my head feels like an ice pick is being plunged into my eyeball. I use a paper towel from the dispenser and run it under cold water and place it on the back of my neck to try and help the pain. I thank my lucky stars I haven't gotten anything on my black power suit.

"Don't tell me you have morning sickness," Tiffany says as she comes out of a stall. "I don't want to hear you be sick in here for nine months."

"Very much not pregnant."

"That's too bad. At least then you'd have an excuse for your stomach."

I don't have the energy to deal with Tiffany and her hurtful words. Instead of saying something I simply leave the bathroom and turn towards my office.

Matt stands just outside, a can of ginger ale in his hand. His shirt is much wetter than it had been before.

"Did I do that?" I ask him and point at his shirt.

He looks down, then back up at me. "I should have had faster reflexes."

"I'm so sorry." I close my eyes, one, so I can't see what I've done. But two, so that the light will stop its attack on my eyeballs.

"I texted Lou. He said to get you ginger ale, and electrolytes."

"Thank you." I take the ginger ale from him, and he gestures with his hand towards my office.

We walk together, and when we get there Matt holds out my chair for me to sit. Then he turns off the lights, which only helps a little as the hallway lights are bright as they shine through the open door.

"What can I do?" he asks, his voice much quieter than normal which I appreciate down to my bones.

"Unless you have a bed hidden somewhere, just let me enjoy the silence." I pull the pills out of my purse and take two.

"I can drive you home so you can get some proper rest."

"I'll be fine."

"Hannah. If my cousin Ivy has taught me anything, it's that fine is never that."

We're in a standoff.

Matt's arms are crossed, which pulls his wet shirt tighter across his chest. I'm half convinced he does it because I can't remember what I'm arguing about anymore. I have one eye open to stare back at him, my other eye is too sensitive with the ice pick sensation happening. I half ogle and half stare at him until Lou barges in. The noise from his entrance makes me wish I were home with a blanket over my head blocking out everything. The best I can do in my office is cover my eyes with my hands.

"Sorry," Lou starts to say, then says more softly. "I told Stuart. You have the rest of the day off."

I drop my hands, and use my one good eye to glare at him. I'm a grown woman, my brother does not run my life. Stubbornness wraps around me in a shield of defiance. "I'll be fine."

Lou steps closer before he crouches down to look me in the eye with a stern expression. "Don't make me call Mom."

"Overprotective much?" I mutter.

"Han," he says, calling me by my childhood nickname, and his eyes are full of so much concern.

He's not trying to ruin my life, or being a bully. No, my big, hockey-playing brother, is concerned for me. With that, my shield splintered before falling away completely

"Scale of one to ten?" Lou asks, referring to the pain scale used in the sports trainer's office.

I let out a sigh. "Ten."

He digs into my purse and pulls out one of those sleep mask things that I keep in there for when I travel. "My car's in the garage."

"What about my car?" I protest.

"I'll drive it." Matt volunteers.

Lou tosses him my keys, and that was that. Matt grabs my laptop and puts it in my pink purse for me. Completely unbothered by the looks people give him as he carries it the whole way to my car, which is parked near Lou's.The pills start to help by the time I get buckled into Lou's Jeep. I took them too late, sleep and darkness are all that will help me get rid of the migraine now. The sleep mask helps as Lou drives through the city to my place. He keeps the music off. For as many reasons Lou irritates me, there are just as many reasons for why he is the best brother for me. When it comes down to it, Lou has never failed to help me.

When I'd started getting headaches and migraines after an unfortunate concussion Lou always made sure to carry pills just in case I needed them. I remember when I'd found him fussing with my keys one time, I'd been so upset until I realized that he was adding a pill container to the keyring for the times he wasn't there. I've lost count of how many times he's slipped electrolyte packets into my purse so I'd remember to stay hydrated.

After we arrive at my place, Lou and Matt use my keys to unlock the door. I go straight to my room where I change out of my black power suit into sweats and an oversized Glacier Bay t-shirt. I burrow under the thick comforter on my bed and pull the pillow over my face just enough to block out any extra lights and sounds. Then I wait for sleep to take me under.

M y eyelids feel like sandpaper when I wake up to a dark room. There's a bottle of a blue sports drink on my nightstand, and a bottle of my migraine pills next to it. The pain is gone, but I need to hydrate or it will return with a vengeance. I sit up and drink a third of the bottle before attempting to leave my bed completely.

I take the bottle with me as I leave my room. Now that the pain is gone, my stomach rumbles to remind me I haven't really eaten anything all day. It will be awhile before I'll eat another muffin, but the leftover Thai food sounds good.

I am halfway into my kitchen, running a hand through my frizzy hair that had come out of its bun sometime during my nap, when I realize the TV is on.

"Afternoon Sleeping Beauty."

I blink.

Matt is sitting on my couch, watching my TV.

I blink again.

He is still sitting there, although he's muted the TV.

"Did you put this on my nightstand?" I hold up my drink.

"No. Lou took care of that before he left."

"Lou left you here?"

"Yeah, he had a thing he said he couldn't get out of, and I said I'd stay so he'd know you were okay."

"Oh."

"Are you feeling better?" Matt asks.

"Much." My stomach grumbles.

"I ordered a pizza if you think you can wait a little bit. I wasn't sure how long you'd sleep for, and I didn't want to steal your food."

"As long as there aren't anchovies, I'm in."

"None, but I hope you're okay with pineapple."

"Totally okay with it, even if it is of the devil."

He pats the spot on the couch next to him. "Sounds like a story."

I sit down by him. Not close enough to touch, but the couch isn't that big. Between my extra curves and his hunky hockey muscles, we are close enough I can smell his aftershave. He smells of plum, and amber, and a day at sea. He half turns on the couch, one leg down and his other one is half bent so he's facing me without the need to turn his neck. The move has shifted him closer to me, and that spot where I can almost feel his leg by mine, feels akin to a spark waiting to zap me.

An apt reminder that I'll be burned if I test that spark. I have no doubt someone at the arena noticed Lou and Matt leaving with me. Who knows who saw Matt taking my car? After taking a moment to settle into the armrest on my side of the couch, I've managed to put a tiny bit more space between us.

Matt leans towards me and places one arm on the back of the couch. "Tell me, who hates pineapple that much?"

I laugh and spill the story of the guy at the pizza pub. For the next half hour we end up trying to one-up each other with the worst dates we've been on. I'm pretty sure I'm winning with a story of the guy who took me to a movie and proceeded to talk the whole time. Not to mention that he made me buy my own popcorn and then put it in the empty seat on the other side of him because I didn't need to be tempted by all the extra calories from the butter.

"Well you'll love the oil lady I met last night," Matt tells me. "She gave me her business card and everything when she asked me to join her sales team."

"A pyramid scheme, really?" I ask him.

He nods. "If you think about it, the speed dating thing means they have to perfect their sales pitch so it can be delivered in a short amount of time."

"That's a brutal way to launch it."

"It probably only takes one for it to be worth the effort. And with the stack of business cards, I wouldn't be surprised if she gets sales from people deciding to purchase something."

I shake my head, then lean back so my head rests on the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. "How do you know so much about MLMs?"

"My dad joined a lot of them when I was growing up. He was convinced that each one was the ticket to retirement."

I turn my head to look at him and find his hand is close to one of my stray curls. His hand moves closer, until his little finger is close enough to touch my hair. He moves so slowly, I could stop him if I wanted to, but I don't. Instead, I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, as I wait for him to make the next move.

I watch as he gently wraps that curl around his finger, and then untwirls it.

We're silent, Matt's hand moves a little further into my hair, and I can feel the tension crackling between us. His touch is tentative as if he's afraid to break the fragile spell that binds us together.

His fingers brush against the soft strands of my hair, sending shivers down my spine. I close my eyes, savoring the sensation, as he delicately wraps that stray curl around his finger once more. The world around us fades away. No Lou, no hockey, just two people having a moment as they wait for pizza.

I can feel the heat of his gaze on me, intense and searching as if he's trying to unravel some mystery hidden within my soul. Jokes on him, I wear my heart on my sleeve. He could have it if he wanted to.

For a moment, time stands still as we linger on the edge of something, something electric and charged with possibility. There's an unspoken question lingering in the air between us, begging to be answered. Will we take the leap and cross the invisible boundary that separates us, or will we remain trapped in this impasse?

I open my eyes, meeting his gaze with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, silently daring him to move toward me.

And then, he looks at my lips and leans forward.