Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Good to meet you, too,” I reply.
Coach nods. “This is Tip Wallace. He’s a scout for the Washington Capitals.”
Holy fucking hell.
Tip nods. “Nice game tonight. You played the wall great. Good stick-handling and speed. You’re in with your line—that’s impressive. It’s like you’re reading each other’s minds.”
“They make me look good. Why are you here?”
Tip nods. “We overlooked you because we were told you weren’t interested.”
“Who told you that?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Just heard it from another scout. I’m not sure where it started.”
My fists twitch as I think of my dad. Once I told him I was going back to hockey and to live with my friends, he’s refused my calls.
Tip continues. “Zack Morgan called my boss and told him we should look again. It’s funny, our general manager doesn’t usually get calls from other teams’ players, but here we are.” He grins.
I plop down in a seat as he talks about my career in hockey.
The same thought keeps circling.
They want me.
For what I’m good at.
“Eric?” Coach asks, and I realize there’s been a lull. “Tip just said he’d love to have you on the team.”
My chest rises rapidly. The chances of a hockey player going pro are one in four thousand—and I’m being given a chance. I lick my lips. I don’t want him to think I’m easy, but I am so damn easy. “I can’t commit to anything until the season is over, but well, the Capitals are a kickass team and I’d love to be part of it.”
Tip smiles as he presses his business card in my hands. “Of course, we just wanted to be the first to talk to you. We are, right?”
“First? Uh, yeah.”
I stand to shake hands with both men. As I do, I manage to glance out the office window and see Boone, Reece, and most of the team watching us.
I leave the office and grin as I flash them the business card.
They hoot and yell. Reece picks me up and tries to swing me around, but I shove him off, laughing.
This is it. My dream, come true.
Except . . .
Boone throws an arm around me. “We should go celebrate, bro.”
I grab my duffle. “Not tonight, but soon. I’ve been putting off seeing my dad, but I have to have my say.”
When I pull up to their house, I cut the engine and take a deep breath before I go inside. His office door is open as he types away at his computer.
“Dad.”
He doesn’t look up.
“Dad,” I say, louder.
“In a minute,” he mutters as he holds up a finger and keeps typing.
He doesn’t stop until I take the business card and slide it over to him. Even then, he only glances at it. “What’s that?”
“Look at it.”
He takes his hands off the keyboard and picks up the card and studies it. “And—”
“A scout came to the locker room tonight. They want me to play for the Capitals.”
He pushes the card away and picks up his pen and leans back in his chair. Tap, tap, tap.
“I don’t agree with you playing hockey—”
I slam my fists down on the desk. “It’s what I want. Did you tell NHL owners that I didn’t want to play pro?”
He pulls off his glasses and laces his fingers. He opens his mouth to speak, but I steamroll over his words.
“You did. Kurt’s dream was working for you. But hockey is my life. You don’t even know how good I am.” An exhale comes from my lips. “I miss Kurt every day. But I’m not him. I’ll never be him. I don’t want to be him!”
“If you play hockey, I’m writing you out of my will.”
“I don’t care about your money.”
“Eric?” Mom says.
I start at the sound of my name on her lips. I turn. “Mom?”
She walks into the office wearing a blue skirt and white blouse. Her hair is done up in a fancy style. She looks lucid. A little tired. “You moved out. I’ve missed you at breakfast. How are you?”
“Fine. A scout came to see me today. He wants me to play for them.” I thrust my hand at Dad. “He’s still on me about law school.”
“Oh.” She takes the card I hand her and studies it. “Wow, this is wonderful.”
My dad scoffs. “Hockey is ridiculous.”
Mom’s head comes up sharply as she focuses on Dad. “Eric isn’t Kurt. I heard him say it. He doesn’t want to be a lawyer or work with you.” She smiles tremulously as if something has loosened from her and fallen away. “He needs to get on with his life. I know Kurt is gone. Sometimes I just get confused. I gave Julia a tour and got a little lost in my head. Will you tell her I’m sorry, Eric?”
I nod slowly. “Of course.”
She toys with a paperweight on the desk. “I’d like to meet her again, you know. She’s very pretty. She told me about her mom’s health struggles.”