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"I'm a player. I play left-wing."
Mia raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, I literally have no idea what that means."
"So, you don't watch hockey at all?"
"No," she confessed. "My grandfather, he's the bartender downstairs—"
"Wait, Jake's your grandfather?"
"Yep. He always tries to get me to watch with him, but I've never been into sports that much. I don't know much about hockey at all."
"Well, I'm one of the guys responsible for creating offense and scoring goals. I primarily play on the left side, which is why my position is called left-wing."
"Gotcha." She put a few nachos on her plate. "Congratulations on winning your series. Apparently, it's a big deal from what my grandfather told me. That has to feel really good."
"It should be the biggest day of my life so far. I get to compete for the Cup. It's what every hockey player dreams of their entire life. To lift that shiny, silver trophy over their head."
Mia's brown eyes grew sympathetic. "But it's not the biggest day... because of her?"
He stifled a sigh. "Shay has a talent for ruining everything."
"Sam, I know we don't really know each other, but can I say something? I don't want to butt in or whatever, so tell me to shut up if you want."
"No, it's okay. Go ahead."
She glanced down at the table for a moment, then brushed a lock of dark brown hair away from her face. "It's just... maybe instead of looking at this as a night that's over and ruined, you should look at it as the start of something brand new and amazing."
He leaned back in his seat, then took a drink of beer. "Go on."
"Now that your girlfriend is an ex-girlfriend, well... you have a clean slate, right? No more stress, no more aggravation, and no more apologizing for someone else's behavior. That's the past. But starting now, you have the chance to achieve all your hockey dreams. This is your time. Don't let her take all your happiness away. You need to stay in the moment and enjoy every second of what's in front of you. Embrace that."
He studied her, letting the meaning of her words sink in.
Mia was right. Why was he wallowing in misery when this was what he'd wanted for so long? To be free of the stress of Shay and all her drama?
He was silent for a few beats, then leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. "This is going to sound weird, but I feel like someone who's been wandering around in the woods for months, and I just stumbled across a compass. Because that speech was as true north as it gets. Thanks for pointing me in the right direction."
Mia nodded, then gave him a small smile. "I'm happy to help."
"So, are you like an advice columnist for depressed hockey players or something?" he teased.
"Ha! No. I'm just a bartender. I work at a lot of places around Vegas, actually. I float to where I'm needed. I also go to college part-time, but just online. It's easier with my schedule." She glanced down at her watch. "Speaking of work, my fifteen minute break is over. I better get back downstairs before my grandfather fires me."
"Oh, right."
Damn. He wished she didn't have to go. It was nice to sit and talk to a woman without constant fighting and tension.
She gathered up her plates and put everything back on the tray. "It was nice meeting you, Sam. Good luck with your series. I really hope you win. My grandfather says every player wants to lift the Cup over their head. I hope I get to see you do that."
"That means you'll have to start watching hockey," he said playfully. " Are you sure you can stand it?"
Mia laughed. "I'll try to watch some games, I promise. I may have to settle for highlights if I'm working, though. How many games are there?"
"Depends. It's the best of seven. Might be as little as four, or as many as seven."
"I can handle that. Take care, okay? And good luck."
"Wait," he said as she turned to leave. He didn't want to lose touch with this woman.
