Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
A collective gasp was followed by raucous cheering. I didn’t take it personally. It was all part of the game, right? One minute, you were on the precipice of greatness and the next, you were tasting your own blood, staring up at white lights.
Was that my blood? Christ, there was a lot of it. And those lights were fuzzy now, dimming in my periphery. Someone was calling my name.
“Trunk! Trunk, can you get up?”
“Fuck, that’s a lot of blood. Is he okay?”
“Get the medic out here. Hurry the fuck up. Move it, move it!”
No way. No medic.
I had to get up. Blood was no big deal. I’d been here before. Gimme a Band-Aid, I’ll be okay.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out. The darkness was edging out the light and voices sounded warbled, as though everyone was talking at once with their mouths full of marbles. The sound and the light were fading fast, and my head hurt like a motherfucker. And blood…
It was a lot of blood. Too much blood.
All I could think was… Damn, that fucking yellow tape.
“Trunk, man. Can you hear me?”
I blinked awake, floating on a hazy cloud. Where the fuck was I? The IV and the whoosh of some machinery gave clues I couldn’t sort through without using my brain, and damn, my head was pounding. I winced, swallowing around the cotton ball lodged in my throat as I studied the eager six-foot-five wall of muscle sitting beside me.
“Kimbo?”
Vinnie “Kimbo” Kiminski smiled, squeezing my hand with obvious relief. “Yeah, it’s me. Damn, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“What are you doing here? Where am I?”
“You’re at General Hospital in Buffalo, New York, honey,” a chipper woman with dark hair, mocha skin, and beautiful white teeth piped in. “My name is Charlotte, and I’ve been looking after you. I’m happy to see your eyes open, and I’m not the only one who feels that way. You’ve got half the world worried about you. Including this dashing gentleman. Now you stay put while I grab the doctor, ya hear? I’ll let your sister know too.”
She was gone before I could respond. I worked my jaw, my gaze fixed on Kimbo. I hadn’t seen him since I’d worked as a coach at his hockey camp last summer. That was months ago. Maybe?
I searched my memory as if I were scrolling a Wikipedia entry. Vinnie Kiminski, thirty-nine years old, former teammate and an excellent captain. Shit. I took his place in Seattle. I’d always had a bad case of impostor syndrome, knowing there was no way I could ever fill his shoes.
Vinnie was a legend. By the time he retired, he’d been an NHL superstar for almost half his life. He’d been an exceptional D-man and a natural leader. His fans and teammates adored him. Even his opponents grudgingly liked the guy. His retirement had made headlines, but he’d made bigger headlines when he announced he was bisexual and had a boyfriend.
Was that real?
“Are you married to a dude?”
Vinnie grinned. “I am. You were at our wedding, remember?”
“Maybe.”
Sort of. But I couldn’t remember what month it was or what I was doing in a hospital in Buffalo. Something was wrong with me, but as far as I could tell, nothing was broken. Except maybe my skull. Oh, wait…my ribs ached.
Fuck, did I crack one or…all of them?
None of that explained Vinnie’s presence, though. I must have asked, ’cause Vinnie scooted a chair closer to my side.
“You got knocked out at the game last night and lost a lot of blood,” he said. “Mega concussion too. A doozy. You’ve been floating in and out on a steady diet of happy juice.”
“Oh.” As if that explained everything. “Why are you here?”
“Nolan and I flew in for the game. You were going to meet us for dinner afterward, but…change of plans. Coach Marsden has been pacing the halls with Mickey and the boys. Including that goofball, Chicklet. I cannot believe he’s a captain, but let’s not go there. Tell me how you’re feeling. Can you see me okay?”
“No, you’re blurry.”
“Shit. How’s the noggin?”
“Hurts,” I rasped, more concerned about the fuzzy edges in my periphery. I scanned my hospital room to test my vision and noted the evidence of visitors in the to-go cups on the side table and a pink winter coat draped over a plastic blue chair. “Is that my sister’s?”
Vinnie nodded. “Yeah, Tara drove in from Rochester. Your parents are on a cruise in Alaska, and she’s trying to gauge whether she should tell them to come home or—”
“No.”
“You can work that out with her.” He glanced toward the doorway briefly and continued in the same low, intense tone he’d used for pregame speeches when he’d been captain. “Listen, they’re gonna put you on strict concussion protocol, and Tara wants to take you home with her. She lives closest, so it makes sense, but she’s got kids, animals, and a lot of chaos in her house. You’re welcome to stay with us. Let her nurse you a bit. She’s going to insist and I’m not trying to butt in, but I’m presenting another option ’cause I know how too much family can be. Come to Elmwood. We’re planning to do some repairs on Nolan’s old house before we put it on the market, so it’s free…and furnished. You can stay there.”