Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Is she married? Kids?
Again, why in the fuck is she here to see me? We have nothing to say to each other. We’re nothing to each other. We may have shared one tiny thread of a bond years ago, but that no longer exists, and even if it did, I still would have hung up on North.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. No. I’m not doing this. I’ve worked too damn hard to keep my past buried, to move forward, even if I’ve been doing it alone. I won’t let her drag me back into the wreckage of that night, and that is exactly what would happen if I even laid eyes on her from afar.
And once I saw her, I’d think of the others. Nathan. Peter. Ryan. Jace. Colton. I close my eyes, lean my head back on the cushion and let the memories come. No sense in trying to fight them. Mila’s presence has stirred up too much shit.
The smell of sweat and ice filled the Wraiths’ practice facility, the familiar sound of skates carving into the surface, a steady rhythm in the background. Practice was over, the team lingering on the ice, joking, shoving, talking shit like always. We were a group of fifteen- to eighteen-year-old hockey phenoms, each of us with a huge ego but the skills to back it up, playing in such an elite league.
I skated toward the boards where a few guys had gathered. Nathan Gentry was laughing at something, his helmet shoved up on his forehead, his sweaty hair sticking out from the sides. He was only fifteen, barely able to shave.
Jacob McLendon was beside him, chuckling, his usual cocky grin in place. To his left was his best friend, Ryan DeLuca, and to his left, Jace Holloway. They were seventeen like me, the ones the younger guys looked up to.
And just beyond them, standing by the glass, was Mila. Her black hair in a ponytail and she was chewing a piece of gum. I can still smell the spearmint.
She was watching, pretending not to be staring at Nathan, but it was obvious. The way her eyes tracked him, the way her fingers twisted in the hem of her hoodie. She had a huge crush on the newest player on our team and it was kind of adorable. Of course, I had told Nathan he’d better be careful because our coach just happened to be Mila’s father. Not only that, Peter, her overprotective brother, was on the team.
He didn’t listen to my advice and it was obvious he liked her too.
I smirked and clapped Nathan on the shoulder. Lowering my head to him so no one else could hear, I said, “You gonna ask her out or just keep making moon eyes at each other from across the rink?”
Nathan turned red, shooting me a glare. “Shut up, Navarro.”
Ryan laughed and called out to Mila, “What do you think of the moon eyes he’s giving you?” Ryan took off his glove and patted Nathan’s face. “Look at that, Mila… not a whisker to be found.”
Nathan turned even redder and while I laughed, deep down I knew it wasn’t cool to humiliate one of our teammates like that.
Mila huffed, crossing her arms. “Maybe I like a clean-shaven man.”
Laughter rippled around us and Ryan doubled down. “He hasn’t even reached puberty yet, Mila. Our boy’s still in diapers.”
Nathan groaned, shoving past Ryan as he muttered, “Jesus, you guys are the worst.”
Jacob called after him, “Come on, rookie. Grow a pair.”
Nathan didn’t respond but as embarrassing as that was to him, he didn’t need to. He skated right over to Mila who leaned on the boards, eyes sparkling with delight as he approached.
“I don’t know what she sees in him,” Ryan said thoughtfully. “I’d ask her out, but…”
“But Peter would kick your ass,” I said, pointing out there’s no way he’d ever approve of such a thing.
The only thing saving Nathan from an ass-whooping was the fact that Nathan had not asked Mila out and probably wouldn’t. It was just puppy love and wouldn’t go any further than what it was. Nathan was young but he wasn’t stupid.
I blink, snapping back to the present. Nathan wasn’t stupid, but he was dead.
Another sip of my beer and I grimace. It tastes bitter, like most things in my life. With a sigh, I turn off the TV and leave the half-empty bottle on the table. I’ll clean it up tomorrow, but all of a sudden… I’m exhausted. My bedroom seems so very far away and it almost feels like too much effort to get undressed before collapsing into bed.
Even so, I know the minute I do, sleep won’t come easy. Not with her ghost suddenly here, knocking on my door.
Fuck.
Mila Brennan is in Pittsburgh.
And I have no idea what that means for me.