Page 54 of Playing Her Game

“No. She only goes back occasionally. She spends her time between the modest properties I have scattered across Europe.”

“Properties, plural.”

Nodding, I tell her, “She prefers the cottage in Austria to the ones in Slovenia and northern Italy.”

“Brawn and brains.” She smiles.

“I'd rather own land than hoard gold. My aunt spends her days in the garden, growing more than she could ever use. Vegetables, herbs, roses. She's got fruit trees, too, and spends half the summer putting up preserves for winter. She likes her hands in the dirt and her mornings quiet. Kaiser, Bear and Bruno follow her everywhere, usually sprawled across whatever patch of sunshine they can find near wherever she's working. She takes care of all three herself. Says they're better company than most people.”

“What breed are they?”

“Bear and Bruno are Leonbergers, and Kaiser is a German Shepherd. Do you have pets at home?”

“Pets? No. We have horses.” She frowns at the word no, but her eyes sparkle when she mentions the horses.

“They're beautiful animals.”

“Do you have any?”

“Not yet, but when this game spits me out, I'll have a few.”

“You're far too young, in hockey years, to even think about your career ending.”

“Maybe. Still, it's comforting knowing I have a plan. I won't be homeless, hungry, or broke. Ever. I may not live like a king, but I'll live a damn good life.”

“Tell me, what does Daniil Reznik's life look like after he retires from professional hockey?”

“That's a good question.” I lean back, pull her close, and close my eyes as I rest my head against the back of the leather sofa. “I want a partner, not just a wife. A woman who wants to live a life with purpose.”

“What purpose would that be?”

“Can’t put a name on it yet, but I want kids, dogs, horses. Hell, I want chickens. I want to live with purpose, off the land as best we can. I want my kids to read about the world and then see it firsthand. So, travel. I want to travel as much as I can while they're little, before school takes up all their time. But there has to be a home base.” I lean down, inhale her scent, and press my lips to her head. “I don't even know what the woman I’ve had the best sex of my life with is passionate about. So, tell me everything, fancy, and tell me what you’d see for your next ten, twenty, thirty, hell, the next seventy years.”

For a while, she says nothing, and I wonder if I didn’t already fuck this up, by rushing the goal. Her fingers move absently over my chest, and I have to focus on breathing normally so she doesn’t think I’m some sort of fucking weirdo. Then she draws a breath.

“I want to do something that matters. Something that has nothing to do with my family name, our money, or what people expect me to become. I want to know that I've made a difference somewhere, even if it's only to a handful of people.”

She shifts against me, tilting her face up, giving me those eyes.

“I want to travel. Properly travel, not arrive somewhere in a car with a driver, stay in a beautiful hotel, have someone make all the arrangements, and leave three days later having seen nothing but the things someone decided I ought to see. I want to get lost in places. Learn how people live, what they eat, what they believe, what makes them happy. I want to experience things that can't be bought.”

“Sounds like you need a better travel agent.”

She pokes my side, and I catch her hand before she can do it again.

“I also want a home that feels like mine. Somewhere I can walk around barefoot, open the windows in the morning, and know that no one is waiting for me to perform a particular version of myself. I want a garden, although I suspect I'd kill half of what I planted before I figured out what I was doing.”

“My aunt would love some company, especially if she thinks she has someone keen on learning how to grow food alongside the flowers.”

“Your aunt hasn't met me in a garden.”

“Plants aren't that complicated, Anna.”

“Neither is hockey, according to people who've never played it.”

I laugh, and she settles against me again, but her expression grows thoughtful.

“The next twenty years are harder to explain. I'm an only child, Daniil. Eventually, the decisions about the land will be mine, and I've always known that. I don't think I'll ever stop feeling responsible for it, no matter where I live or what else I do.”