Page 47 of The Offside Rule
She grinned like the Cheshire cat.
“You’re gloating.”
“Just a bit.” She pressed her pointer finger and thumb together. “It’s necessary for you to take care of yourself. You have Isla to worry about.”
That comment did me in.
I lowered my voice. “Catherine.”
“I watched my dad hide injuries from the team when I was younger. I watched him pretend things were fine until they weren’t. I remember what it did to him. What it did to my mom. What it did to our house when he was in pain and trying not to be.”
That shut me up.
She shifted the laptop against her chest. “You guys think pushing through everything is noble, but sometimes it’s just stupid. Better to care for your body now. It’s the only one you have.”
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. Most women I met wanted something from me. Money. Fame. Access. The story. The hockey player. The life that looked shiny from the outside. Amy had wanted the Russell name and the bank account badly enough to lie about a pregnancy and marry me under false pretenses. She left a scar I didn’t always talk about, but it was there. Catherine wasn’t looking at me like a famous player. She wasn’t impressed by the career because her father had been a superstar in his own right. She knew the cost. She knew the injuries and the road trips and the families left behind. She knewthe body broke down. She knew the part no one put on highlight reels. And she didn’t take crap. Not from rookies. Not from me.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Okay.”
Her face softened. We walked toward the exit together, keeping a normal amount of space between us because we were in the arena and I had at least one working brain cell left. Outside, the heat was brutal. Catherine pulled sunglasses from her bag and slipped them on.
“Hospital?” I asked.
“Yup,” she said. “I have a meeting about the project, then I’m helping with follow-up notes.”
“Overachiever,” I said again.
She smiled. “You already used that one.”
“It still applies.”
She opened her car door. “Bye, Hunter.”
I stood by my SUV and watched her get in. I should have let her leave, but I didn’t.
“Catherine.” She paused and looked over the roof of her car.
“You need to take care of yourself too,” I said. “You don’t want to burn yourself out.”
Her expression softened in a way that hit me square in the chest. Then she smiled, and it touched her green eyes like a warm sunny day in the forest.
“I’ll try,” she said. She waved, got into her car, and drove off toward the hospital. I stood there like an idiot long after she pulled out of the lot.
She was a terrible idea. She was thoughtful, stubborn, gorgeous, too smart, too young, too connected. A terrible idea. I got into my SUV, started it, and was halfway out of my parking spot when my phone buzzed.
Cole.
Cole: You still at arena? Need you upstairs for charity event meeting. Children’s hospital fundraiser.
I stared at the text. Right. The charity event. Because apparently my day wasn’t done with me yet. I put the SUV back in park and rested my forehead against the steering wheel.
“Beauty,” I muttered.
Then I got out and headed back into the building, still thinking about Catherine’s smile and the way she said Isla’s name like my daughter mattered to her. She was a bad decision. And I needed to remember that before I forgot every single reason why.
CHAPTER 9
Catherine Celia
