Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Turns out, it was real.
Coach Haddock even shook my hand at the end of practice, and it startled me for a long moment. With hockey, I had forgotten what it feels like to be treated like a functioning human being and not a sack of shit.
Only problem…I can’t like the team here.
I can’t start to love hockey again.
I won’t be in New York for the full season. Trying out was always more for Coach Haddock than myself, and he seemed grateful that every phone call and encouragement at least got me out on the ice tonight.
As I kick the apartment door shut, all I can think about is calling Harriet. She’s the first person I want to talk to about tryouts, but it’s Monday night and she keeps her phone off while she’s volunteering at the hospital. So I make my way farther into the quiet apartment, but I don’t fool myself into believing it’s empty.
Most of my brothers have participated in the shared calendar, so I know that Beckett is dancing in Giselle tonight, Tom’s band practice finished hours ago, and now that Eliot landed the role of Christopher Wren in The Mousetrap, he spends post-rehearsals in his room running lines.
Charlie hasn’t updated his portion of the calendar so he could be drowning in the Pacific Ocean, for all I know. I toss my gym bag and hockey stick on the couch, and my phone pings in my pocket. My stomach knots as soon as I see the text.
Dr. Wheeler
Ben. Are you around for your session? It was supposed to start 10 minutes ago.
Shit. Fuck. I completely forgot. I scrape my hand through my hair and glance around the apartment. I’ve been pretty strategic in doing my tele-therapy sessions on campus in a quiet study room. Last thing I want is for one of my brothers to overhear.
I could bail on Dr. Wheeler tonight, but if word gets back to my parents that I’m skipping sessions, it’ll give my dad more reason to encourage me to find a new therapist. And that’s a drum I don’t want to beat again.
Fuck it. I’ll just take the call here. Not in the bathroom—the lock hasn’t been fixed, and I’m not making that mistake a second time. I slip into the coat closet, shut the door, and take my puffer jacket off the hook to bunch up at the gap between the floor and the door. I’m not sure how soundproofed it is in here, but that’ll have to do.
Sinking onto the hardwood, I’m wedged between the wall and an umbrella. I shift a heavy bag off to the side, and I unzip it to see a bowling ball. What the fuck? I don’t even know which one of my brothers bowls.
Zipping it back up with one hand, I send a quick text with my other.
Ben Cobalt
Available now. Not for video chat though. Can you call?
Less than ten seconds later, my phone rings, and I answer it.
“Ben.” Dr. Wheeler’s voice is friendly and casual. “Is everything all right? You’re usually not late to a session.”
I rest my head back against the wall. “Sorry, I had hockey tryouts. I forgot to reschedule.”
Dr. Wheeler blows out a breath of surprise. “Hockey tryouts? You mentioned you didn’t want to play…”
“Yeah, about that.” I rest an arm on my bent knee, my limbs cramped in the closet. “I decided to give it a go. Coach Haddock has been nice…really nice.”
“You seem surprised.”
My brows furrow. “He told me I was faster than most players he’s ever seen at MVU. That I’m even good enough to make it to the NHL, like third-round draft pick good enough. So I’m just wondering if he’s blowing smoke up my ass.”
“Why would you think that?”
I laugh and run another hand through my hair. Memories torpedo through me in a crushing onslaught. “My old coach said the opposite. Said I would never amount to that. It’s just confusing. Who to believe.” I grind my jaw and try to roll out the tensed muscles in my shoulders.
A short stretch of silence bleeds over the phone before he replies. “Of what you’ve told me about your old coach and your interactions with him, there is a chance he was singling you out because he thought you had an ego. So it’s possible he never told you that you were good because he thought you already knew you were.”
I try to process this as he adds, “He could’ve been bringing you down to humble you.”
I squint in contemplation. “To humble me?” Because of my last name. As if being a Cobalt somehow brands me with an overinflated, oxygen-sucking ego.
“It’s a theory,” Dr. Wheeler says. “Because there’s no real reason your new coach would lie to you.”
“If he wants me on the team this badly, he could just be telling me what I want to hear so I’ll join.”