Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
She draws in a breath, like she needs to steady herself. “At first, it did a little. But I try to look on the bright side. It’s nice to have so many people rooting for you to move on.”
My gut twists with the reminder that she’s still very much in the moving on phase. And I’d do well to remember that.
36
JUST A TASTE
Lake
Hockey.
Just hockey.
Only hockey.
That’s what goes through my head the rest of the day as we practice at the Evergreen Falls Arena.
Since Remy will be moving on when this ends, and I’ll have to as well. Don’t want to move on from her. Don’t know how to convince her to move on with me. Hockey though? That’s what I’ll never move on from.
I remind myself of that as we shoot press photos with the Sea Dogs for The Sports Network before the game. Our first line heads to the ice as if we’re facing off against theirs. Wesley Bryant, their hotshot right winger, Asher Callahan, their veteran left winger, and Miles Falcon, their center. Since it’s a promo shot, our goalies are here too at center ice, looming ominously.
Miller’s next to me, mask on, game face tight for the cameras. But once the cameras are off, he grins like an excited kid. “This is going to be so fun.”
“’Cause you like losing,” Wesley tosses out.
Miller shakes his head. “Nah. It’s going to be so fun to beat you here just like we did on your home turf earlier this year.”
Wesley snarls. Miles deals us an ominous stare.
But Asher just gives a shoulder shrug. “Miracles do happen, boys,” he muses like nothing can bother him.
I know that feeling too when I’m on the ice. The ice is the place where nothing can hurt me. Where emotions don’t touch me. Where I’m one with the puck.
“It’s not going to take a miracle,” I drawl as I skate away. “It’s just going to take me.”
Maybe I’ve put a target on my back, but I don’t care. I want to beat our crosstown rivals as much as I want to beat any team, but I especially want to tonight.
We might not be a real thing, but I promised Remy I’d show her how a good man would treat her, and I’ll do that till the planned end. I’ll do it as well as I play the game I’m obsessed with. There’s something about winning in front of the woman you want to impress. It’s hot, plain and simple.
Once we’re in the locker room, taping up before the game, I turn to the guys, starting with Miller. “A thousand dollars for every goal saved.”
He scoffs, “You don’t have to bribe me. I’m going to fucking save them anyway.”
“Consider it an extra incentive.” I switch my attention to Riggs and Corbin. “And a thousand for every point you fuckers score.”
“Love it when you pay us extra to do what we were already going to do,” Riggs says, then points his stick at me. “But don’t forget we still have a grand on you falling in love.”
I wince at the reminder of the bet. At the way it makes my chest squirm. Love is for other people. Love is for other times. Someday when she’s ready, Remy will find a man who gives her the world—someone who knows how the hell to make love work.
When we hit the ice, both teams join some local kids all suited up in skates and gear. It’s part of an effort to drive awareness of mental health for young players. As I stretch out the hammies with some teenagers, I briefly wish my father would take his mental health as seriously as these young athletes do, but I’ve suggested that in the past to him to no avail.
You can’t make someone you love get help. All I can do is still love him. And I show him that at game time when I tap my left shoulder for him. Then I look to the press box where Remy is and I give a chin nod. Mouthing the word presume. So she knows that gesture is for her.
Even if this is all going to end after the wedding, she deserves the full boyfriend treatment now. Like I promised.
At the face-off I jostle for the puck, snagging it from Bryant, then flying down the ice with it. I spot an opening, line up at just the right angle for a sharp, precise wrist shot, and bam! It sails past their goalie and lands in the twine with a satisfying thwap. Victorious, I give a fist pump, then shoot Bryant a look like told you so. After the scoreboard boasts of our early lead, I dig in, and focus on each second, and keep playing at the top of my game the whole night.