Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Together, we watch, cheering and tapping for the small black object to slide further but it barely makes it to the crease.
“Fuckkkk,” Wahl rumbles unhappily upon rising to his feet.
“You’re still a fucking beauty!” shouts one of the Goonie Tunes.
“Such a fucking beauty!” echoes his brother.
“That shit is wayyyyyy harder than it was in the minis,” he snickers during his return, dusting away the ice in the process.
One by one, the team takes turns wheeling.
Sliding.
Swiping.
And one by one, players miss.
Bounce it off the post.
Laugh and shake their heads at the perceived failures.
Get back to the group and assist in cheering on the next player.
“Come on, boys!” Coach cackles from the opposite end of the rink. “We need one!” Bronny collects the puck from near the net. “We just need one!”
“Ten-dyyyyyyy!” Matty howls with a hit to my back. “You got this!”
“Bring us that dub, Grofffeeee!” Frosky instantly joins in.
“Nu vot,” Cap begins nodding, boyish grin growing, stick taps continuing. “Nu vot! Nu vot! Nu vot!”
His fired-up nature naturally spreads to the rest of the team – despite them having no idea what he’s saying, which is just “here we go”.
I happily welcome the energy…the vibe…turn their taps into a tuneskie and let everything else fade away exactly as I would if I were between the pipes.
Getting a small rush up to the blue line aids in the diving part for the foam obstacles.
Cold air unforgivingly slaps my face.
Motivates me to keep moving.
Keep pumping.
Get lower to the ground.
Sticks taps continuously thunder around the rink acting like the applause of a packed barn stomping and clapping along to the Queen classic I always look forward to hearing.
Waiting a bit longer to flop to my stomach to glide underneath the bar gives me the additional distance needed to not only get to the puck while it’s still soaring but to flick it back towards the net where it hits the crossbar and drops dramatically into the white, knotless nylon.
“Gooooallllll!!!!!” Coach excitedly shouts and throws both arms into the air.
“Gooooallll!!!” the boys immediately repeat prior to banging their sticks even harder, the vibrations actively shaking my chest right alongside my laughter.
Man, I love what I do.
And who I do it with.
And for.
And I know – without a single doubt – that this season is going to be the best season yet.
Chapter 15
Gillian
I thought interning at a pediatric dentistry practice was hard.
But now?
Now, I wish for the days when all it took to chill a child out was the threat of taking away their prize drawer options.
“I don’t wanna wear my boots!” Bronny shouts from inside his room at the end of the hall.
“Why are you yelling?” I calmly inquire, frame parked near the opening of the stairs.
“You’re far away!”
“And yet I’m not raising my voice.”
That fact successfully pulls him past the threshold and into more open territory.
I swear to God, it’s like negotiating with a terrorist on a TV show.
Pretty sure that’s where I got all my skills to handle these hormone-based episodes.
Although, I’d really like to cancel my subscription to whatever this shit show is.
I had honestly thought we were onto the next season of Bronson’s Creek.
One where I would have to worry more about neighbor chicks sneaking in through his bedroom for late night “study sessions” and less about playing the wrong songs before ten a.m.
Apparently, there’s such a thing as too early for ABBA.
Jukes and I strongly disagree, however, not enough for it to be the declaration of war the athletic hormones in questionably tight jeans insisted it was.
It’s been a crazy few weeks.
Around school – thank fuck he only missed the one week – and preseason – including camp, media blitzes, goalie training, team pracky, the big franchise outing as well as medical appointments – dating has become much different.
What we do and when we do it has also changed.
There’re less late nights doing random things like drinking Turkish coffee under the stars while singing Cher and more early evenings with themed charcuterie boards to go along with our critical thinking conversations about Langston Hughes poems and fights about topics for early animal science projects.
We still do our best to sneak off to The Kaloon once a week for dessert and cover bands, but lunch pop ins and elaborate meal hopping dinners are basically gone.
Mornings – thankfully – still start the same.
Sex and homemade brew.
I get the feeling those are the two things I’m going to miss the most when he leaves for his first roadie.
He promises he’ll still get up early to “have a cup” with me via video chat, but we’ll see.
Road life gets unpredictable.
I remember that all the way from M’s youth hockey days.
M who still doesn’t know about us due to many of the same reasons my relationship with Thayne has had to change.
Except dealing with his own kids instead of a younger sibling that now he is in charge of raising for the foreseeable future.