Hutch

It's been a couple days since I've seen Daisy. She'd been in class, but she sits near the front and I'm in the back. I'm usually up and gone before she turns to go out. Do I want to ignore her? No. But I have to get my game under control. I can't figure out how or why I've lost seconds of my speed. It's pissing me the fuck off.

Dejected, I load my gear into my Jeep and shut the door. Coach keeps eyeballing me during every practice and I know he's disappointed. Scouts are coming to tomorrow's game and I still haven't got this shit figured out.

I wave to several of the guys as they come out of the rink, but since I'm not in the mood to shoot the shit, I quickly get into my Jeep and drive off. What I want to do is go get a burger, fries, and milkshake to drown my sorrows in, but instead I head to the restaurants right outside campus where they serve healthy food. Grilled chicken and steamed veggies for me tonight. Yum.Our diet during the season pretty much sucks. I mean, when I go eat at my mom's, her food is divine and it fits into my diet. How she gets her food to taste so good, I don't know. I can't cook for shit.

Sighing, I turn down the street toward one of my favorite restaurants, Bison's Bar and Grill. They serve good food and will make sure no one bothers me while I try to eat. They're good people.

And who do I see walking down the sidewalk?

Fucking Daisy.

The girl I've basically been running from. She looks a little dejected. I don't like it. I should keep driving, but instead, I find myself pulling over and rolling down the passenger side window.

"Daisy!" I shout to make sure she hears me.

She looks up and frowns. Not the usual reaction I get when I say a woman's name. Hell, half the time I can't remember names. Not because I'm a shitty person, but I simply meet so many people, people who think they know me, I can't remember them all. I don't try to remember those names because all they want is to say they know Hutch, captain of the hockey team and NHL hopeful. They don't take the time to get to know the real me, so why should I waste my time on them?

"You good?"

"Yeah, I guess." She walks over to the door. "Just out trying to find a job. The only places hiring are places I'm not comfortable working."

"Like what?"

"Bars where the women are dressed to make sure they get hands put on them during their shift. No thank you."

I've been in a few places like that. Never went back to the ones I ran across either. Women are to be treated with respect and not like property or goods for sale.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugs. "I have to get going. I still have a few more places to check."

"You eat yet?"

She shakes her head, but keeps backing away.

I don't waste time trying to argue with myself. I roll my window up, get out and lock my doors. We are in downtown Minneapolis. I don't trust leaving all my hockey gear in the back of an unlocked vehicle.

"What are you doing?"

"I was about to go eat so I figured I'd bring you with me. I've had a shit day so you can distract me by telling me about all these places you went looking for work."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You do," I assure her before taking her hand and pulling her along with me.

"I'm not good company right now."

"Neither am I. That's why I want to hear something besides the same thing on repeat in my head."

"Honestly...I'm good. I still..."

"Did you eat lunch?"

"No, I didn't have time between classes and then I had to start the job hunt."

"Then you're not good. You're running on nothing but whatever you had for breakfast which was what by the way?"

"A granola bar."

"That is next to nothing." Decision made, I pull her down the street to Bison's. "This place has good food and we both need to eat."

She tries to retrieve her hand, but I can be mulishly stubborn according to my mother. I just keep dragging her toward the entrance and then inside. Andrew, the host, and one of the soccer guys, greets us.

"Hutch, good to see you. Table for two?"

"Yeah. Someplace quiet if you have it. I am not in the mood for signing autographs today."

"Rough practice?" Andrew asks as he gathers two menus and leads us toward the back of the restaurant. We're seated in the farthest booth in the back where the other tables are all but deserted. Perfect.

I just nod and slide into the seat facing the back wall. If people can't see my face, they might not recognize me. I'm not in the mood to deal with fans. I know they can make or break me in the NHL, but today is not a good day. I don't want to smile and pretend I'm their best friend. I love my fans, but sometimes a guy just wants to eat a meal in peace and chat with a beautiful woman uninterrupted. Even one he should leave alone.

"Why have you had a shit day?" Daisy asks and opens the menu, not paying me the list bit of attention.

Which is an odd experience for me. Most girls I know want the attention and will constantly do things to make sure my focus stays on them. Daisy doesn't care who I am. Hell, if it were up to her she'd be anywhere but here. My mom would love her.

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Tough." She looks up, her green eyes snapping fire. "You didn't give me a choice so you don't get one either. Spill it buster."

I laugh. I can't help myself. After the shit day I've had, I needed that laugh more than anything, but I sober when she starts to get up.

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. I've just had a really bad day and I'd rather laugh then sit here feeling like I can't do anything right. I've talked all week with Coach and I'm talked out on the subject."

"I'm assuming its about hockey?"

"Yeah." I sigh and lean my head back against the booth, looking up at the ceiling. "I..."

"Hey guys, I'm Ashely, and I'll be your server." I turn my head to see a pretty blonde smiling at me and ignoring Daisy, which doesn't sit well.

Daisy just looks amused.

"Can I start you two off with some drinks?"

"Daisy?" I ask, basically forcing the server to acknowledge her.

"You can't have sugar can you?"

My lips curls at the absolute horror of it all. "No."

"Then water is fine."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know, but my Grannie taught me better manners than to sit here and drink something you can't have knowing you want it."

Wow. Here sits an elusive creature or I've been dating the wrong kind of girl.

"Two waters is fine," Daisy repeats when the server doesn't move.

"Have you two had time to look over the menu?" she asks instead of moving away to get our drinks.

"I know what I'm getting, but did you have time to look over it?"

"Yeah, I know what I want. The creamy chicken and veggies."

I have a feeling if she weren't with me, she'd be getting something way less healthy, but I appreciate the sentiment.

"I'll take the lemon herb chicken and steamed vegetables."

"I'll bring your drinks to you in just a minute." Ashely gives me another come hither smile as my mom calls it. I stare back at her, expressionless, until she moves away.

"Does that happen a lot?" Daisy asks. "That star struck look?"

"More than I like. I love my fans, but I can never tell with girls if they like me for me or if they're just hoping to land an athlete. Its part of the reason I don't date."

"That sucks."

She has no idea.

"So what's going on with hockey that has you looking like someone just ran over your puppy?"I really don't want to talk about it.

"Look, I get it. I don't want to talk about stuff either, but in this case, I think talking about it with someone who has zero knowledge or interest on the subject might help."

"You don't like hockey?"

She shrugs. "I grew up in West Virginia. We don't play hockey. Football is king."

"Fucking football." I guarantee I can take the hits on a football field and if the football players tried hockey, they'd go off crying. Hockey is a hundred times more brutal than football. Even with all the changes in the sport to try and protect players from career ending and life changing injuries, it's still the most brutal sport out there.

"No love of football?"

"Not my thing."

"But hockey is your thing?"

"I love hockey."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, dufus, why do you love hockey?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe that's your problem then. You don't like it anymore."

"I love it," I deny.

"Then why can't you tell me why you like it?"

I want to say its not true, because deep down it's not, but in that one second, I don't know why I love it. I'm saved from answering it when the server brings our drinks.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No."

The word is curt and I flash her a smile to take the sting out of it. As much as I don't want to play the athlete to an adoring fan, I can't afford to come off like an asshole either. One bad press statement or article could kill my forward momentum, especially with the Raptors.

Daisy arches a brow and sticks her straw into her glass of water.

"I really do love it."

"I believe you, but I think right now, you're not so in love with it."

"Why would you think that?"

"Let me rephrase, I think its the stress that comes with it that you're not liking. Every time I see you, your shoulders look tense when people approach you. Maybe you need a break from playing the athlete for a while?"

"You never get a break."

"Then how do you keep your love of the sport if you always have to be "on"?"

"Fuck if I know."

And there was the problem. She'd hit the nail on the head. Stress. I hated being in the spotlight anymore. Add in the pressure of the scouts from my favorite team and this big ball of dread sat in the pit of my stomach.

"So is there anything in particular you're stressed about right now?"

"Do you really want to hear this?"

"Sure. It'll get me out of my own head for a while."

The exact thing I wanted when I asked about her job hunting and she'd somehow turned the tables. Only my mother had ever been able to do that.

"I'm behind three seconds on my time."

"Three seconds?"

I laugh at the incredulous look on her face. "Three seconds can be the difference between making the slapshot or not."

"That whatsit?"

"Slapshot. Its when you raise your stick and then hit the puck so hard, its like a slap. You can hear it."

"You do that a lot?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. My speed and my slap shot are what I'm known for."

"But you're three seconds behind?"

"Behind my counterpart in our third line."

"What's the third line?"

"You really know nothing about hockey do you?"

"Not a thing."

"Have you ever been ice skating?"

"No. I've been on roller blades but never on ice skates."

Now that is something we are going to change.

"Then you can't understand the joy it can bring you."

"Doesn't sound like you're getting much joy out of it right now."

"I've been trying to find a way to get back on track, but its not working. I can't shave those seconds off and the scouts are going to be here tomorrow."

"And that is why you're having a shit day."

I nod miserably. "They're expecting to see me at my best, not worse than the third line."

"And how are they supposed to know that? Are they going to be timing you or something?"

"Its not out of the realm of possibility."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Dang."

"You really don't cuss a lot do you?"

"Nah, I've usually got better words to use and its fun trying to watch people sort out if I've insulted them or not when they usually have no idea of what I'm talking about."

"Are you insulting them?"

"Usually."

I laugh at her statement of fact.

"I've never really met anyone like you."

"Now its my turn to wonder if you just insulted me."

"I didn't, promise. I'm just not used to girls who tell it how it is and don't try to simper and say exactly what they think I want to hear. It's refreshing."

"My Gannie raised us to be straight-forward. Lying gets you nowhere and if you don't let people know what you're thinking, then its your fault when things don't turn out. How can they know you're upset if you don't let them know it and why. That makes more sense to me than anything else. Be open and honest. You'll get yourself into a lot less hot water."

"My mom would agree."

"Here we go." Ashley smiles down at us as she sets our food down. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"We're good," I tell her. "Thanks."

Daisy laughs and I glance up to see Ashley glaring at her. What the fuck?

"Girl, please. I have no designs on him. He seems to think I don't eat enough and I was hungry."

"Uh...I am right here you know."

"I know." She winks and picks up her fork. "Now eat so I can finish looking for a job before it gets too late. I still have homework to do."

I watch as Ashley walks off. Why are girls so territorial? Even when the man doesn't belong to them?

"Eat up, buttercup. Time's a wasting."

"I thought you decided we were here to talk out why I had a shit day."

"We did that. You're under too much stress. You're not having fun and when you get the fun sucked out of something you love, then you stop doing it as well. Simple."

Fuck, it is as simple as that. How did she figure it out so fast?

She nudges my plate with her fork. "Eat so we can go."

"Fine, but I want to show you something. You said yourself you're having no luck finding a job today, so don't argue."

"What do you want to show me?"

Smiling, I dig into my food, ignoring her suspicious glare. Maybe I can't tell her why I love hockey, but I can show her.

For the first time in months, I'm smiling when it comes to the sport I've dedicated my life to.

"Eat up, buttercup," I throw her words back at her. "You're in for a treat."

She doesn't look like she believes me, but I don't care. She'll love the ice as much as I do.