Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
After a while, Van closes the tablet and sits back. His eyes drop to my book. “What you reading?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Eisenhower in War and Peace,” I say, holding it up so he can see the front.
Van’s eyebrows explode up so fast, I’m surprised they don’t launch off his head. “You’re kidding?”
I smirk at him. “Hard to believe a dumb jock likes to read about history?”
Van stares at me, hazel eyes level and without an ounce of shame. “Pretty much.”
I can’t help but snort. “Yeah, well… I love history. Military history to be more precise. It’s a really good biography.”
“Consider me fucking charmed,” he says with a wink and then stands from the table. “Maybe you can give me the CliffsNotes version at some point.”
“Our next workout, I’ll have a summary for you,” I promise.
He points to me as if to seal the deal. “Also, I’ve got my team putting together some video on Calgary. They’re going to be a harder team than San Diego this trip.”
My stomach lurches at the mention of Calgary. We’re heading there after we play the Renegades.
“Looking forward to it,” I say to Van, even though I’m dreading it more than he or anyone could ever guess.
Van lifts his chin and heads off, leaving me to think about Calgary. It will be the first time this season we’re going up against the Wild. To everyone else on this team, it’s just a game on the schedule. A cold city, an enthusiastic crowd, a physical opponent. To me it’s a confrontation with my past that I wish I could avoid.
I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the laughter circulating through the cabin. I try to tap into the pressing but soothing hum of the plane’s engines. Unfortunately, there’s not enough noise to keep the past buried deep.
I think about the last time I spoke to my best friend, Adam, and it dredges up the same severe anxiety that I experienced ten years ago. I stood outside his bedroom door. We were both seventeen, our last season in Major Junior, and his billet mom had let me in the house. Said that he had been in his room all day and wouldn’t come out.
I knew what I did and I knew I did it for all the right reasons, and still, knocking on his bedroom door to confront him about it was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life.
I made myself do it because I needed to find out how bad the damage was.
The door opened and Adam stood there, his expression one I’ve never been able to forget, even after all these years. Not angry, not at first. Just—destroyed. It was the type of demolition that happens when someone who has had their entire world upended because their right to decide for themselves was taken away. I had done that. I had let the world know about Adam’s very worst thing.
I knew it as soon as I saw his face, I have known it every day since, and knowing it has not once made me believe I was wrong to do what I did.
That is my own personal hell.
“Adam—” I said, hoarse with fear and nervousness.
“Don’t.” He was so fucking quiet and that one word hit me with the force of a nuclear explosion.
Desperation struck me deep. “I had to—”
“No,” he says, anger now sharpening his tone. “You didn’t. And I’ll never forgive you for this.”
“Gentlemen, this is Captain Reid.” I’m pulled out of my memory, thankful to hear the pilot’s announcement. “We’re about forty minutes from San Diego and starting our initial descent. Forecast has us looking at a smooth approach and we should have you on the ground right on schedule. Weather in San Diego is seventy-two degrees and sunny, which I’m told is the same as yesterday and the day before that and will be the same tomorrow. Enjoy it while you’re there and kick some Renegade ass tomorrow.”
Someone hoots a war cry in agreement, and then everyone starts making their way back to their pods to buckle up. I give my seat belt a tug, choosing to stay here.
My jaw aches, an indication I’d been gritting my teeth through that little stroll down memory lane. I release it slowly, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.
In three days, I’ll be seeing Adam Belleau, the only person in the world I truly despise and feel sorry for at the same time. He’s a second-line defenseman with the Wild and I have no clue if our lines will overlap on the ice. They have in the past, and it might very well happen again. We’ll ignore each other, of course.
Because no matter how out of control my rage can get, and no matter how many shots I’ve taken at unsuspecting players when the heat builds, I’ve never once taken a shot at Adam, even though he’s the one who actually deserves it.