44. Hannah
HANNAH
Lucky grips my hand tight as I walk through the underground maze of tunnels, her eyes wide as she takes it all in.
There are people everywhere, but not nearly as many as are up on the public concourse.
I’m trying to make this experience as seamless as possible for her, knowing how uncomfortable she is around crowds, and one of the perks of being the daughter of the head coach of the New York Thunder is that I get to take a shortcut through the concrete bowels of Madison Square Garden.
Jonny flew out to France last night, but Allie, Happy’s mom, Linda, and Linda’s husband, Lewis, are all here tonight, up in the private suite Jonny paid for to ensure Lucky has a safe space, knowing the game one home crowd would be a lot for her little emotions to handle.
I brought Lucky down here to see Happy one last time before the guys head out for the game.
Not because she asked me to—she was having fun up in the suite with Fran, Emily, and Millie, wearing her very own WAG jacket, eating snacks and dancing to Taylor Swift—but I brought Lucky down here because Happy asked me to.
He sent me a text message five minutes ago, asking if I could bring her down for last one Lucky hug.
I think he’s really nervous for tonight.
Not just because it’s the playoffs, but because he’s starting, and because he has some huge skates to fill while Alex Henry is out.
When we arrive outside the Thunder locker room, I smile at one of the officials standing guard, and he nods his chin at me, waving me closer, and as I peer in through the open doors, I can see my father front and center, giving one of his pre-game speeches which is really just him cussing a lot, clapping his hands, and throwing a few buzz words in there to keep morale high.
Lucky and I navigate the people standing on the outside, and we nestle into an out-of-the-way nook, waiting. But just as I get us situated, my gaze unexpectedly meets a familiar icy gray glare focused directly on me.
I don’t look away. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking first, instead lifting my chin a little higher, my fuck you face set firm as I stare him down, and I can’t help but wonder what the hell I was even thinking with that whole…
situation. I swear I was delusional because there is no way this man resembles anything even remotely close to George Clooney from of One Fine Day.
Chris’s eyes flit down to Lucky, zeroing in on where Lucky holds on tight to my hand, and I notice the way his jaw tics, the slightest hint of his top lip curling, and it takes all I have not to grab one of the Gatorade bottles lining the table next to me and pelt it directly between his eyes.
“Let’s get out there, and let’s show Halifax, our fans, the league, everyone why we’re fuckin’ here!”
I startle, pulled from my death-like glower by my father’s booming voice, followed by a deafening roar.
Next to me, Lucky flinches, cowering into my side, and I look down to find her face scrunched up.
I crouch down and wrap an arm around her and she opens her eyes, relief softening her features as she glances about the room to see everyone moving.
Suddenly, Lucky is swept off her feet, pulled up and into her daddy’s arms, her face lighting up as she rips off her headphones.
“There’s my girl,” Happy says, pressing his nose to hers.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“I needed another good luck Lucky hug.”
Lucky grins.
Happy glances sideways at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me in close. He tilts his head, his lips grazing my ear as he says, “I saw that asshole looking at you. You okay?”
With a thick swallow, I nod, forcing a smile, and he presses a kiss to my cheek.
“Didn’t realize this was the family room,” a familiar voice says from behind me.
With a knowing smile, I roll my eyes, looking over my shoulder to find my father, his unimpressed scowl in full force.
Turning, I reach out and smooth a hand down over his tie, straightening the lapels of his sports jacket. “Good luck, old man.”
“Old man,” he repeats with a scoff.
I offer him a smile, leaning in, and press a kiss to his cheek with a whispered, “You’ve got this.”
“Thank you, baby,” he whispers straight back, his gaze quickly flitting side-to-side like he’s worried someone nearby might’ve just heard the Lance Draper show some semblance of human emotion.
“Good luck, Coach!” Lucky chirps.
Dad’s face cracks, and I spot an emotion in his eyes I don’t recall ever seeing before as he reaches a hand and connects with the one Lucky holds out for him. “Thank you, Lucky.”
Happy’s eyes meet mine, and I can tell we’re both a little stunned by the unexpected exchange.
With a proud smile, I watch my dad walk out of the locker room with the rest of the coaching staff, Chris trailing after them, glancing at me briefly on his way out, and I barely contain my grimace.
Turning back, I find Happy and Lucky, with Robbie hanging back so Lucky can give him a good luck kiss to his cheek.
“I think my daughter likes my teammate more than me,” Happy says out the corner of his mouth.
I lean up and whisper in his ear, “I like you more than anyone.”
Lucky and I file out with a few other stragglers, watching the guys as they head down the tunnel toward the arena and cheering them on.
I look down at Lucky and give her a thumbs up, which she happily returns, and with a satisfied nod, I turn and lead her back down the tunnel, starting the winding walk back to the elevator that will takes us up to the suites.
But just as we turn a corner, I’m stopped by my name, spoken in a voice that sends a chill down my spice. I turn to see Chris step out of the shadows, like he’d been waiting here for me.
Lucky looks up at me, her forehead bunched with confusion, but I offer her my most reassuring smile, squeezing her little hand in mine to let her know everything is okay.
“Can I help you?” I arch a brow.
Chris looks from me to Lucky and back again, the casual smile that ghosts his lips not matching the steely look in his eyes as he leans in and whispers, “So, not just fucking then, I take it.”
Lucky has her headphones on, and I know she can’t hear his low voice, but I still spear him with a warning glare, trying so hard to put myself between the two of them without her or anyone who might pass by us noticing the obvious tension.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
“End it,” is all he says.
Stupidly, it takes more than a moment for me to understand what he’s saying. When it dawns on me, I can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, okay,” I mock, rolling my eyes, which he doesn’t appreciate if his clenched jaw is anything to go by.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Chris,” I continue, “you have no cards left to play. Everyone knows everything about Happy and me—and her.” I indicate Lucky with a nod of my head.
“In fact, it seems like you’re the only one with something left to lose.
” I step up closer to him. “So be careful before you try to tell me what to do, because if I have to tell the world that you’re a cheating son of a bitch, I will. Don’t underestimate me.”
Chris remains completely stoic, like a fucking sociopath, and I go to turn, but then he speaks, rendering me unable to move. “End it, or I trade him to Utah.”
The longer I stare at him, the more I come to realize he’s not bluffing.
“I have a very tempting trade offer pending on my desk.” Chris purses his lips. “Break up with him, and I tear it up.” He shrugs a shoulder like it’s no big deal. “Don’t break up with him, and… well… do you really think he’ll still want you when he finds out you’re the reason he’s been traded?”
“Three minutes, Chris,” someone calls out from behind me.
“Sure thing, Ben,” Chris says with a pleasant smile, like he didn’t just blackmail me.
I try to swallow around the lump in my throat, but acid burns my tongue. I feel sick. Like I might actually be sick. But I also know I can’t show weakness in front of a man like Chris. I won’t. Plus, Lucky needs me right now.
“Enjoy the game.” Chris winks at me, looking down at Lucky and throwing her a finger gun before spinning around on his shiny loafers and walking away.
“Hannah?” Lucky’s small voice breaks through the myriad of conflicting thoughts suddenly racing through my mind.
I glimpse down at her with a smile I know doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Are we going to go watch Daddy?” she asks, such raw innocence in her big brown gaze.
“We sure are, Lucky Duck.” I squeeze her hand. “Let’s go!”