Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“What’s on your mind?” she asks, sitting beside me.
“Fine.”
She laughs. “Daniel?”
Her voice startles me from my thoughts. “What?”
“You answered fine to me asking what’s on your mind.” Sitting forward, she says, “You’ve muttered the f-word twice and said Coach under your breath at least three times. I also heard ‘soft’ in there. So let me try this again. What’s on your mind?” She sits back and crosses her legs at the ankles.
Her eyes pivot to Roman regularly, like he’s her own, but when she looks at me, I can tell her attention is fully mine. It settles a piece in my chest I didn’t know was out of sync. Roman is my world, but her presence is bigger and more important than either of us could have anticipated. It’s like I have an ally for the first time in my life.
Most people don’t stick around, or I don’t let them. I find myself wanting Summer’s company, though. Accepting her like we’ve known each other for years instead of days.
“I came to the Cove to spend time with Roman out of the spotlight. It’s hard to walk around sometimes without getting recognized. I didn’t want that to invade our time together. But I also had some searching to do.”
“Soul-searching, or are you looking for something?”
Leaning forward to match her, I reach over and rub her knee. “Both. I had a decision to make, but that’s been taken out of my hands. It will now be made for me.”
She angles closer as if to protect Roman from overhearing. “I don’t understand.”
“I could play until I’m forty, even forty-five if I can keep my body from losing for me.” With rapt attention, she listens as if this is personal for her. “I’ve been told I’m too aggressive on the ice. My teammates are more kumbaya these days than competitive. I’m not from this generation. I play to win. Whatever it takes. I play my best every game, to get my team one step closer to winning the Stanley Cup again.” I grip the bottle harder as Coach’s words run on repeat through my head. “I’m supposed to put on a good PR show.”
“Why?”
“To show the bad boy of hockey is a reformed man, to soften my image, and make the game more family-friendly to grow the TV audience, according to the owners. That’s where the money is made.”
“Hockey is family . . .” Her gaze drifts away to Roman again. When she looks at me again, she says, “Wait, it is pretty rough. Teeth are flying, blood on the ice. I’ve only caught bits of games, and I know it can be hard to watch sometimes.”
The stab of betrayal digs deep, and I sit back and finish my beer. “You agree with him?”
“No. I just think it’s not for little kids. We’re teaching them to be nice to each other, to share, not to hit or bite—”
“I’ve never bitten anyone.”
She cracks up laughing. “I’d hope not. My point is we teach little kids about manners and to take care of one another, and then bam, grown adults are beating the crap out of each other on TV.”
“Boxing. MMA, Cage—”
“Doesn’t matter. Their owners aren’t trying to make it family-friendly. Your team’s owners are. And if they are, the other owners are as well. It’s probably a league-wide push.”
“Are you on their side or mine?”
Resting back in the chair, she lifts her heels to the edge, bringing her knees to her chest. Smooth legs and tanned skin. She fits her name better than any other ever could. With her arms wrapped around her legs, she says, “Yours, Sutton. But not because I think they’re entirely wrong. I’m on your side because it’s your love of this game that brings in the viewers. It’s your style of play that keeps you scoring. But mostly, why mess with perfection?” She doesn’t just butter me up. She slathers me in the stuff.
“Do you know how sexy it is to hear you say that?”
“I’m hoping very,” she replies, taking the last sip of her beer.
“Don’t doubt it for a second.”
I can feel my blood pulsing through my veins, as if reaching toward the woman curled up in the chair next to me. We watch Roman as he plays where the lawn falls under rocks that lead to the water. My gaze trails out to the ocean beyond. Without it, the cove would be quiet. Too quiet, if you ask me. But the water rolling in and out is a balm to the chaos in my head, a reminder to slow down. That my problems are less important if I focus on the moment instead.
Not everything needs to be resolved today. It was a request by Coach. A demand by the owners. I don’t have to listen to either of them, though it is implied I should. They should know by now that I’m going to buck the system. Fans would revolt if I went soft on the ice. Are they really going to sacrifice their star player, who brings in millions in sponsorships, to make a point? Not in a million years.