Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Why do you look like I’m sending you to the guillotine? For fuck’s sake, Erickson, it’s a grade one, bordering on a grade two, tear. It’s not the end of the world. Get rest, wear the brace, and you’ll be a hundred percent in no time.”
“How much rest?”
“You’re out for three to five games, light practice…”
I tuned out as blood drained from my face, panic gripping me by the throat. I was in no position to lose two or three weeks of hockey. Time was ticking, and the phone had been eerily silent for weeks. That happened sometimes with Randall, and as much as I tried to tell myself everything was okay, this was…bad.
“It won’t take that long,” I assured him. “One game and—”
“Don’t argue,” he chided, holding my glower with an impressively placid stare. “I need you healthy for the playoffs. And with the way we’re playing lately, we have a chance to make some magic. You’re part of that, Erickson. Trust me, you’d rather be on the bench now than later.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know, but…I’m still waiting for my agent to…you know.”
“Scouts have already seen you, Jett. They know your game. And let’s face it, you’re more valuable with two good knees than one, eh?” He gave an exasperated huff. “Quit worrying. Honestly, I think you’ve been playing better than ever ’cause you’ve broadened your horizons. Keep it up. Do some more physics stuff. I think the scientist is a good influence on you.”
Coach escorted me to the door with a shoulder squeeze and a “See you tomorrow, kid.”
That was it.
I moped all afternoon, more distracted by my fucking knee and my silent phone than ever. This was usually where I’d head to the gym, hit the treadmill at a steep incline and blast my music so loud my ears would ring for an hour afterward, or go to a party and get absolutely obliterated.
I texted Malcolm instead.
Want to grab some dinner? I’ll swing by your classroom.
My cell buzzed as the physics building came into view. I’m at home. Tired. Professor F thought I might be contagious.
Be right there.
I showed up on Malcolm’s doorstep with a container of soup from the diner, cold and flu medicine, and a packet of tissues. I figured those items checked all the boxes and if not, he could use them later. Selfishly, I really needed to see him.
Layla ushered me inside, her brows arched as she looked me up and down. “Soup and hockey lessons. That’s a new one.”
Okay…this qualified as an awkward situation. Layla was the one person I was sure knew that our experiment had ended months ago. Hell, she was Malcolm’s close friend and roommate. She had to know something was up, but neither of us had told a soul…for an obvious reason: this wasn’t supposed to last.
An unsolicited drop-in with chicken noodle soup and cold remedies was tough to explain, so I fudged it. “Yeah, um…I was at the diner, and everyone likes soup.”
Layla didn’t buy it. “This seems suspicious.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You’re being too nice or something.”
“I am nice,” I argued.
“Maybe.” A smile ghosted the corner of her red-stained lips. “But be warned, ‘My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.’ Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice.”
“Noted.”
“Stay put and don’t steal the silverware. I’ll get Mal.”
Malcolm had obviously been asleep. He shuffled into the living room, his hair was standing on end and lines from his pillowcase etched on his skin.
“I wasn’t sure what you had, so I brought the cold season starter pack.” I held up the paper bag in my hand.
He cocked his brow curiously. “I’m not sick. I’m just…tired and a little worn down. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open while Professor Finkwell was commenting on a student’s inability to understand physics of productivity.”
“Sounds snoozy.”
“No, no, it’s actually fascinating. But…not today.”
He smiled and I smiled back. Neither of us said another word. We just stood there, looking goofy as fuck until Layla cleared her throat.
“Looks like this is a party for two. I’m going to the library for a couple of hours.” She retrieved her coat from the rack and grabbed her bag. “Be good, boys.”
I waited for her footsteps to recede. “She knows, huh?”
“Possibly? I’ve been having quite a few sleepovers lately and she’s inquired about my new paramour. I haven’t uttered a single word, but…”
“I showed up with soup and gave us away,” I finished, raking my fingers through my hair. “Shit.”
Malcolm set a comforting hand on my back. “Layla wouldn’t say a word. I promise.”
“Oh. I wasn’t thinking about me. I’m sorry if I made things weird with you and your best friend. I don’t know why I assumed you were sick. I should have called, but my day was shit and I really…I needed to see you.” I brushed my thumb across his bottom lip and kissed him. “I feel better already.”