I Want You Back (Want You #1)(45)

“I’m listening.”

“From what I understand, youth hockey has changed drastically since I was a kid. And I’m not just talking about the fact the hockey club I belonged to didn’t have a single girls’ team. I’d like to claim I paid attention to that type of stuff so you’d consider me somewhat enlightened, but the truth is, I didn’t. I played with girls in the peewee leagues, but by the time it was decided that I had the skills for club hockey . . . no girls were around.”

“I’m no more enlightened on the subject than you are, Jax. I didn’t even pay attention to your hockey games, let alone anyone else’s.”

That stung, but I wasn’t surprised. During the time we were together, she’d attended maybe half a dozen games. “The popularity of hockey has spawned lots of new opportunities for female players, on both the recreational and the competitive sides. I’m not sure how the groups are divided except that the players are still grouped by their ages.”

“Let’s say I agree to let Mimi try it. Would she have practice every day? Games every weekend?”

“Not at her age. After she’s passed the basic skills class, and if she still likes it, then I’d suggest we put her in a recreational hockey program.” That went against everything I’d had beaten into my head as a young player, but this wasn’t about me.

Lucy frowned. “Recreational instead of . . . ?”

“Recreational games usually take place at community centers, where everyone gets a chance to play. Unlike club hockey, where you have to audition first and then you pay to play.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad. But if everyone can play, then do you know if they separate boys and girls?”

I shrugged. “Some organizations do, some don’t; it depends on the enrollment. But regardless if she’s playing in a mixed league, she’d be playing with boys her age. Even in a recreational setting, an eight-year-old girl won’t be playing against a twelve-year-old boy. USA Hockey is very strict about that.”

A look of relief crossed her face.

“To be honest, Luce, I don’t know if they play actual league games at her age. Some programs focus on hockey basics. Learning about the different positions, stickhandling, skating. I remember hearing that some places don’t even introduce the puck until midway through the season.”

“How would that work if she wanted to be a goalie? She’d have to sit on the bench for half of the season? How is that fair?”

On the outside I merely smiled. On the inside I grinned like a damn fool. I had her. Lucy was this close to saying yes to letting Mimi try hockey if she was already worried about the fairness of ice time. “There are enough options in the Twin Cities that I wouldn’t choose a venue or coaching staff that had that criteria. There’s something to be said for playing it safe, but playing slow . . . that’s not what hockey is about. Puck handling is the single most important skill she needs to master. Besides skating.”

Lucy sighed. “Spoken like the pro athlete you are.”

“Like the pro athlete I was,” I reminded her.

Then awkward silence hung between us.

I let it. Lucy needed to come to terms with this on her own. I’d given her the information; I wasn’t about to beg or badger her as she silently weighed pros and cons.

No idea how much time passed before I noticed she was about to crush her soda can between her hands, so I gently removed it from her grasp, set the can on the coffee table and took her shaking hands in mine. “Talk to me, Lucy Q. Like you used to. From that big heart of yours.”

“I’m scared.” She squeezed my hands. “For all of the reasons I mentioned during our discussion. And . . .”

“And what?”

“I’m afraid that she’ll love it. There’s no doubt in my mind she’ll excel at hockey, because we both know she’s ridiculously athletic. So I worry that she’ll try it, love it and become obsessed with it, like you were. Her entire focus will be on hockey, and all traces of my Mimi, the child I’ve nurtured for eight years, will be gone.”

Fuck. She could knock my legs right out from under me even without a damn stick in her hand. “Lucy. We can’t know anything about how she’ll react until we give her the chance to try it.”

She looked down at our joined hands, but not before I saw the tears in her eyes. “I know. It’s so freaking stupid, but right now, that’s the thing that’s stopping me from saying yes. Not that I’ll lose her to you, but I’ll lose her to hockey.”

“Aw, baby, come here.”

“Jax—”

“Come. Here.” I tugged her to my chest and she came willingly.

All the harsh words from earlier vanished. We hadn’t been this physically close since before Mimi was born, but we fit together like we hadn’t been apart. Like our bodies knew what to do even when our heads and hearts hesitated.

After a few moments, she spoke. “Hockey was already your life when we met, Jax. You never pretended I would come first, because hockey had claimed you first. It might be hard to believe, but I never begrudged you doing something you loved, especially when you were so good at it. I can’t claim that I was proud of you, because I had nothing to do with you reaching the highest level of the game. But with Mimi . . . it’d be different. I’d be invested. I’d have to be just as supportive as if she’d chosen to pursue ballet.”