Courageous

*GENERAL POV*

Amanda had risen with the sun on Christmas morning to prepare for her best friend's surprise. She had spent time while Mickayla was out on the past road trip making the necessary arrangements and preparations for the surprise. Before sneaking out, she checked on Mickayla and Hank to find them still sound asleep. As she stepped out the door, she hoped that they still would be she brought the surprise back from the airport. Yeah, she was picking up her parents but they wouldn't be coming over until later, but right now she was retrieving what they were bringing with them from Vancouver.

*MICKAYLA'S POV*

Coming to my senses as the smell of a freshly brewed pot of coffee filled the apartment, I remembered it was Christmas morning. My first Christmas in New York and so far it had been one of the best yet in terms of the company I had gotten to spend it with. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Hank was still beside me. Looking over his appearance, it was oddly sexy how good he looked in his rumpled button up shirt and his disheveled hair. He looked like he should be on the cover of some magazine right now. Smirking, I got up and grabbed my Nikon camera from my dresser before returning to snap a picture of him... sleeping on my couch.

The flash must've brought him back to the world of the living because Hank began to rub his eyes, shortly after. Through those sleepy eyes, he smiled up at me before he saw that I was holding a camera and then he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." I promised, hiding my camera behind my back as he stood up to investigate what I had hidden from him. The closer he got, the more nervous I became and by the time he was standing not an inch from me, I was practically shaking. Reaching out with his arms, he acted like he was going to hug me, but instead he reached around me to grabbed the camera. Smirking at me, he began to thumb throw my pictures, his eyes dancing with amusement
.
"Hey, those are private!" I objected and tried to snatch the time from his hand.

"Not if you have a picture of me on this thing." He informed me, pausing for a second to admire a picture before he turned it to show me, "You look amazing in this one. Like you should be on the cover of Sport's Illustrated."

I blushed as he showed me the picture of me on one of the white sand beaches of Rio de Janeiro during the team trip we had taken there two years ago after winning a second national title. My pose suggestive if not a little revealing as my boobs were about to fall out of my string bikini top. He smirked and turned it back so that he could look at my pictures some more, but I snatched it from him before he could hold it out of my reach. He made a sound of objection as I walked back to my room and tossed it on my bed.

Running my hand down his chest, I winked "Now, don't get upset with me. We all have skeletons in our closets. Mr. I-Painted-Myself-Gold. "

"How did you know?" Hank gapped at me as I sauntered over to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Smirking at him, I shrugged as he pinned me against the counter.

"My source requests that he remains anonymous at this time." With a smirk of his own, Hank picked me up and placed me on the granite counter top before moving to stand between my legs.

"It was Gabby, wasn't it?" He questioned, pressing his lips to my Adam’s apple in an attempt to reveal to him my source.

"Hmm... I'm not sure. Did you know that you were hot as a teenager? I would've totally jumped your bones if we had known each other." I switched topics on him, trying to resist his amazing persuasive skills as he continued to kiss and bite at my neck in the most seductive way known to man. One of his hands grasped the base of my skull and the other snuck inside my shirt, moving its way to cup my breast.

"Hmm... Well, you still consider me attractive because you did just that not too long ago in Buffalo." His hot breath whispered into my ear before he nibbled on my ear. I felt myself blush again, I should've know he'd use that to his advantage, but I could still use it to mine,

"Well, technically, you used to me. I was drunk and unaware on my actions."

"Use you? Never!" He chuckled as he kissed the tip of my nose, "You were much too willing, Mickie."

"Uh huh, I'm sure I was." I rolled my eyes at him, our lips inches from touching, then I remembered that I had told my parents that I would meet them for dinner, "Would you like to come eat out with my parents and I tonight? They flew in for the Winter Classic, last night, err maybe this morning?"

"Hmm," He thought, aloud, his forehead now resting against mine as his eyes bore into mine, "I don't know. Will they crucify me for taking advantage of their daughter?"

Biting my bottom lip, I thought about it for a moment or two before informing him, "No, they shouldn't do that. My da might make some threats, but he's really all bark and no bite. My mom can be, well let's just say my grandparents didn't name her Helen without reason."

"Oh so she's like you?" He joked, his lips caressing mine but not quite gracing me with a kiss. I groaned and wrapped my legs around his waist as punishment.

"Aren't you funny? I'm not that hot tempered." I objected, wrapping my arms around his neck before I silenced him with a kiss, at last. I was tired of being teased and drug along by him, which was curious because back in Buffalo he hadn't been in the mood for much teasing. Now, here he was in my apartment turning me a ball of mush with the way his hands, fingers and lips worked me into a bundle of need. Wrapped around each other, our lips locked in a way that we had never approached before, our desires and emotions like fire and kerosene, stoking a roaring fire of passion, need, and lust. Just when I thought he was about to rip my pants off and take me on the counter, a cheerful bark echoed as the sound of claws clicked against the wood floor. A whine then came from beside us as we pulled apart to see a black and white parti-colored poodle staring up at us intently. It took me a moment to register just who this dog was. Grinning, madly, I pushed Hank away as I slid off the counter, knelt down to the floor and held my arms open for the fluffy ball of fur,

" Fritzy!"

In less than a second, my dog tackled me, his pink tongue licking all over my face to show how happy he was to see me. Scratching at the top of his ears, I couldn't believe that he was here in New York. This was the best surprise, I could get and I knew just how was behind it.

"Fritzy down." I commanded, as I sat up and the poodle lay down without a second word, allowing me to stand up. Smiling at the confused Swede, I decided to introduce my two favorite boys,
"Hank, this is Fitzgerald or as I prefer to call him, Fritzy."

Bending down to our level, Hank held his hand out to the dog, which sniffed him, in an investigative manner before the dog licked him. Hank, then moved to pet his massive topknot as he looked to me,

"You know I would've never pinned you as the poodle type." I giggled and swatted my Fritzy's pomp pomp tail out of my face, as I remembered Hank's dog, Nova.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have thought that you'd be the type to have a Doberman, but you do."

"I'll have you know that Dobi's are a very stylish dog." He pointed out, continuing to rub down Fritzy. I nodded in agreement, as I did the same thing,
"So are poodles."

Hank snorted and gave me a funny look, "Yes, but they are so cliché. Don't you think?"

Fritzy growled at him, in response. I smirked at Hank's expression at how my dog reacted, "They say poodles are one of the smartest dog breeds in the world. He totally heard what you insult him."

At that point, one could've argued that Fritzy nodded and gave the Swede a pointed glare like he as agreeing with him. That was until Amanda came into the room holding a Rangers bandana. Jolting over to her, I wrapped her in a hug because I knew that she was the one who had my parents bring my dog out. I had been missing the fluff ball, lately and needed his companionship.

"Best Christmas ever!" I giggled afterwards as she handed me the bandana to wrap around Fritzy neck. Untying his red Boston college one, I replaced it with the blue Rangers one. Standing up to inspect my work, I placed my hands on my hips,

"Now don't you look handsome in Rangers blue?!"

Fritzy barked and wagged his tail in delight. I knew he was happy to be with his owner again and I was glad to have him back. Fritzy, then dashed out of the kitchen to explore the rest of his new home. Amanda and Hank laughed as I chased after him, but they followed to wanting to see how he reacted to the apartment.

Ducking back to her room, Amanda came back out with a basket of toys and set it up behind the couch before leaving us once again. I made a mental note to call up her parents and have them bring out her ferret at some point and to take her out to dinner in return for her kindness. Flopping on the couch, I watched my dog drag around his favorite toy: a penguin, a he continued to explore. An arm snuck around the back of my head and I rested my head on Hank's shoulder, "It feels more like home now."

"Good, I'm glad." He answered, pressing a kiss to my temple as he sat down with me. Turning to face, I sent him a questioning look, "No, I didn't do this. Amanda did. I'm just glad that you feel like New York is becoming more of your home now. You said last night that you felt like a tourist still."

Nodding, I did say that last night as we walked to the movie theatre and at the time it had been true. But now that I had my dog, everything felt more permanent like I belonged. It made me wonder why I hadn't brought him with me here to begin with. I would've settled in a lot faster and been way more relaxed if I had. Next time, if there were a next time, I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

*GENERAL POV*

Victoria, British Columbia 2006

Working in the kitchen, Helen Hammer prepared the evening meal for her family. On the menu tonight was stir-fry, it was quick, easy, and it was one of the family favorites. She would have to make it to perfection because her three beautiful children were sticklers about how they liked their teriyaki chicken. She also acknowledged that tonight would be one of the last times that they would all eat together until next summer. She knew it would be hard on them all, they were such a tight knit group that with her oldest moving to Vancouver for her career that her younger two would be lost for a while without her guidance and support. A flash of golden hair passed by as she began to cut the peppers; calling out to the teenagers she called out,

"Mickayla, why don't you come help me?"

The girl, no young woman at blossoming age of seventeen turned on her heel at her mother's request. She didn't make a sound of complaint, only picking up a cutting knife and began helping to prepare the various vegetables to be put into the wok. Normally, she would've fought her at best or just plain left the house at the worst. The girl hated helping out in the kitchen and every opportunity she got she would let them know just that. Yet, something had been different about her demeanor all day, she seemed to cling to her younger siblings and her father's sides when on most days she tended to stay locked in her room or out in the back yard practicing her shooting skills on the concrete pad her husband had built for the driven child. Helen figured that it must finally be setting in for Mickayla that she would be leaving for Vancouver Giants training camp the next day and wouldn't be returning home before the Holidays. Helen feared that the WHL schedule would be drive her child to the point of insanity, but her husband had been adamant the faith he had in their talented daughter.

"Mom, how did you meet dad?" The quiet question almost startled the mother as she peered over at her daughter. She hadn't been expecting her to ask that question, but she figured it would be asked at some point. Helen would've preferred later over sooner, but since her daughter had asked she decided to tell her.

"I met him at a bar in downtown Vancouver. I used to be a bar maid when she wasn't working at Sealand or the aquarium." Sighing, Helen's eyes glazed over as she recalled the first time she had ever laid eyes on her husband of 18 years and began to weave the tail of their courtship or their oldest to hear,

I remember, it like it was yesterday. It was a hot summer night, in the middle of June. It was late about eleven o'clock at night when he came strolling into the bar with a group of his co-workers. As soon as I saw him, I knew he was an out of towner by the way he interacted with the other men he was with. He lacked the hardiness of the Western Canadian men that were frequent regulars. No, this man had to be from the eastern part of Canada. At first, I thought he was from Quebec, but that was before I heard him speak:

"Helen, table 3's packed and Charlie's got his hands full with the hockey fans. Can you cover for him?" The grizzled manager ordered to the freshly permed graduate student. Helen nodded and slid off her bar stool, picking up her notebook so that she could take the new comers orders.

"Hey, boys, whaddya like ta start out with tonight?" She inquired, leaning on her hip for support as she waited to take their orders. The five other men with the out of towner quickly rattled off what they wanted while the other guy seemed to be unsure of himself. Looking him over, she felt a shudder pass through her entire body. She had never felt like this before, she had never wanted a man so badly before. To her surprise, he was almost startled when she asked him,
"How about you?"

The business man ran his hand through his silky brown hair and shrugged, "What ya suggest? I em knew ta this part n 'avennot got much offa feel for yer beers."

Another man after catching the puzzled look that swept across their hostesses face went to explain what his companion had just uttered, "He wants ta know what kinda of beer ye got here. He's from the emerald isle and hasn't ever been out to west before."

"Oh, well, then how are you likin' Vancouver? It's not that much different than Ireland, eh?" Helen asked, jovially.

"No, it's not. I like it 'ere a lot actually. One of the few places that feels like me home. I think I might 'ave to stay fer awhile afta the trip." He informed her with a wink that suggested something that made her heart swell with anticipation.

After that night, the young man continued at to say in contact with her. They often met up after they got done with work and would talk for hours about their lives, dreams, and some times nothing at all. As the days past by Helen found herself falling more and more in love with the quirky man from Ireland and in heart she knew he was the one.

"Really? That's it? Where's the drama? The details? I know you're not telling me everything," Mickayla informed her mother with an unsatisfied scowl on her face. Helen patted her impressionable girl's shoulder, softly and smiled,

"No, my dear, the rest of the story is for you to hear when you’re older." Studying her mother from under her eyelashes she seemed to accept the promise and the two continued to go about their work in silence.

Now, almost five years later the same girl stood before her, now older and wiser in the ways of the world. The years had transformed her daughter into a successful, confident woman, who had achieved many great feats at such a young age. She was currently in the middle of her rookie campaign with the New York Rangers and seemed to be on top of the world. Occasionally, Helen would catch the same soft, endearing look that she'd get whenever she looked at Ewan, in her daughter's eyes whenever she would look at her Swedish teammate, whom she had invited to dinner. Just from that, Helen knew Mickayla was in love with the man that was sitting next to her and he with her. Glancing at her husband, she could tell that he could see it as well and it scared him. Sure, the man, Henrik, was considerably older than their oldest child, but Helen was five years Ewan's junior.

"Excuse me, lad, but how old are ye again?" Her husband's voice asked from across the table before Helen knew what was going on. Aligning her hand upon Ewan's knee, she stilled the fire behind his sea green eyes some. Looking across the table, Mickayla was glaring daggers at her father, a similar anger flickering in familiarly blue eyes.

"Da!" She hissed, lowly as to not cause a scene in the uptown restaurant in Manhattan they were at. The large hand of the man sitting next to her came to rest upon her shoulder, Mickayla's stare soften as her eyes connected with his. Clearing his throat, Henrik informed them in a calm, relaxed voice,
"I'll turn thirty the second of March."

Ewan frowned, slightly as he absorbed the information that had been given to him before he asked yet another unacceptable question, "How long have you been married?"

Both Henrik and Mickayla's heads snapped up in shock at his words. Helen was just able to catch the tan line from a wedding band on the man's left ringer finger before Mickayla covered it up with her paler hand. Helen knew that at the pace this was going her daughter would never want to speak with them again.

"Actually, I'm recently divorced. My ex wife and myself just separated a few weeks ago." Henrik again answered her husband in full. The way his eyes darted to Mickayla told Helen that their daughter had fallen down the same path she had a long time ago. Falling in love with a soon to be married or in her case, married man always caused a lot of heartbreak and drama. This was the drama; Helen had refused to tell her daughter about in hopes that it would never happen to her. Ewan opened his mouth to once more but this time Helen intercepted him,

"Ewan, don't you dare criticize either of them. You and I were both in their position a long time ago. So don't say something you're going to regret."

"Shut the front door!" Mickayla exclaimed, eyes dazzling with realization as she looked between her parents. Helen sighed, hoping that the truth wouldn't have had to come out this way, but her daughter was now aware of the full circumstances surrounding her parents' courtship. Her blue eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to her mother for the first time since this conversation had began,

"You never told me dad was married before."

"He wasn't... Well, he hadn't walked down the aisle yet." Helen protested, in hopes that she hadn't lost her daughters trust.

"Oh, sure, I bet you were the one who changed his mind and ran away with." Mickayla snorted, rolling her eyes at Helen and folding her arms across her chest, "At least, you didn't lie to me about that part."

"I told you that I would tell you the rest when you were older." Helen reminder her hot-tempered daughter, glancing at the man seated across from her for support. Henrik, however, just watched on as Mickayla's face turned flush with anger as she pointed at her father, who had opened his mouth to speak,

"You have no room to talk, either. You sit here and criticize Hank like you have the right to judge his decisions, but you're really just a hypocrite! You could've told mom, 'no' but you didn't you feel in love with her."

After that Mickayla rose from the table, pulled on her coat, and left without another word. Hank followed her, but forgot to get his coat. Helen watched for a moment in complete shock before she looked back at her husband who was still trying to let their daughter's harsh sink in
.
"I hope you're happy, Ewan. You just ruined her first Christmas in New York." Tears filled her eyes as she stood and grabbed Henrik's jacket before rushing out to return it to him. Things had been going so well until her husband decided to be an arse, she hope the damage caused wouldn't take too much time to fix. She wanted to be a part of her daughter's life and she wanted to support her.

A chilly blast hit her as she stepped out onto the busy New York sidewalk, searching for her daughter and her friend. When she finally located them, they were across the street. They stood near ally in a heated argument, his arms on her shoulders as he tried to calm her down. Luckily for her, the stoplight ahead had just turned red so she dashed across the halted street, shouting,

"MICKAYLA!"

*MICKAYLA'S POV*

I was overwhelmed by the sudden change out events that had just changed my outlook on my parents. In my eyes, they had been the prefect love story that I had always wanted for myself. Now they were nothing but liars who had sugar coated the truth in order to prevent me from looking down upon them. In all honesty, I wasn't upset with the fact that they had lied to my siblings and I, what upset me was that my dad was roasting Hank over something he was just as guilty of. Once outside, I let tears fall from my eyes that I had been fighting since I had gotten up from the table.

A gentle hand upon, my shoulder let me know that Hank had followed me. Leaning into his touch, he pulled me into an awkward hug as his lips pressed against the side of my head,

"Mickayla, do you want to talk about it?" I shook my head and hiccupped. "I think we should."

He insisted, engulfing my hand in his as he led me across the slow street. As soon as we had crossed the light turned green again, I thanked God for Hank's timing. Looking around, I saw that this side of the street wasn't nearly as busy and that meant Hank was going to make me talk.

"Why did you leave?" He inquired, turning me back to face him. Looking up at him, I saw that his eyes were glazed with worry. I shrugged, but gave him the honest answer,

"Because I couldn't take it any more... I wanted to go home-"

"And what would that have solved?" Sighing, I knew he was right. Running away was such a childish thing for me to do, but I couldn't help myself. Growing up, it had been my only defense against my parents when we argued. I'd simply end it before it blew up into something I couldn't control.

"Nothing." I admitted, finally after the long look he gave me, "But I still want to go home."

"No, you aren't." He pressed, firmly, pointing in the direction of the restaurant, "We're both going to finish dinner with your parents. It's the polite thing to do."

Even if Hank was right, I still felt the need to rebel against his words. I hated the situation my father had created and I wanted to rip his head off for being so rude to Hank. I didn't think that going back was the right thing to do at the moment.

"No, I'm going home." I insisted, moving to fetch a taxi when Hank grabbed my arm and spun me back into his arms. I melted a little as I looked back up at him. His hair was disheveled and now fell around his eyes as he stared down at me.

"Mickayla-" He began, a rebuttal forming in his eyes, "You need to sort this out with them."

"No, not in a public place. This is too personal to talk about in a restaurant and I refuse to make myself look like a raging lunatic in public." I argued back. Taking a step back from him, I continued, pleading with him now, "I am going back to my apartment. I will call them in the morning and talk with them myself... Right now, I just want to-need to go home."

With a sigh, Hank gave in. I knew that he would, eventually. I knew that he didn't like to see me distressed. Running his hand through his hair, he messed it up even more, "Fine, let me go back-"

He was interrupted when the voice of my mother called out, "MICKAYLA!!!"

Whirling around, we both were surprised to see my mother standing on the curb in front of us, her hands clutching Hank's jacket. Black streaks from spilt tears, painted her cheeks. Instantly, I felt bad for causing her so much distress. Without a second thought, I ran to the woman who gave me life and crushed her into a bear hug as my own tears began to fall again,

"Mom, I'm sorry for the way I acted in there, but I can't go back in there and talk to Da right now. I need to cool off. Hank's gonna take me back to my place."

Patting my hair, my mother nodded with a wink, "I understand. I just thought Hank might want his jacket back."

Laughing, Hank came forward and relinquished my mother's hold on his jack before slipping himself into it. I, then, stepped back from my mother to stand beside him, "I will call you guys tomorrow. So that we can get our stories straight. I think we've all got some explaining to do."

"Yes, I agree." She smiled at me before turning to my Swede, "I'm sorry my husband's been an arse to you tonight. I think he's a bit shocked that Mickayla's turned out to be more like me than we wanted."

"It's alright." Hank assured her, "No harm and no foul. I hope he understands that Mickayla and I aren't together just yet. There are still a few things that needed to be settled before that."

I blushed as they both looked at me, knowing that Hank was referring to what I was going to do about James. Shaking my head, I smiled at my mother before I offered, "Why don't you go back to dad? We'll walk across the street with you?"

She nodded and linked her arm through mine as we actually used the cross walk this time. Her steps were weary because of the ice and her heels. Once back in front of the restaurant, she pulled me into a hug as Hank hailed a cab.

"Don't let this young man go, you hear? I don't care if you think there might be someone else. This one is who you need to be with." My mother ordered me as she pulled away before walking back inside.

Shaking my head at her, I returned to Hank's side and ducked into the cab. There was no choice to be made now. Hank was the only one. I just had to figure out what I was going to do about James. Glancing back at him, he offered me his hand and a smile. I accept them both offering him my own weak smile in return as the cabbie drove us back to my apartment.