Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I lift an eyebrow. “Only if you want to lose your hand.”
“He’s so testy,” Mac says and pulls Willow in for a hug. Mac’s been here as long as I have, both of us having been drafted our rookie years and spending our whole careers in Seattle. He’s one of my best friends on the team and has met Willow many times, especially back in the day. “Hey, baby girl. You look delicious.”
“I. Will. Kill. You.”
He smirks at me over her head and then lets her go. “Are you saying your girl doesn’t look delicious?”
“Yeah, Ry?” Willow bats her eyelashes, and I snarl just as Aiden finds his tongue.
“You’re Mac Reynolds.” The kid looks starstruck.
“Guilty.” Mac holds his hand out to my boy. “And you’re Aiden. I’ve heard a lot about you. Let’s ditch this guy so we can talk about him behind his back.”
Aiden and Mac are already talking as Willow turns to me and lifts up on her toes, offering me her lips, but she’s still short as fuck.
It’s adorable.
“Have a good meeting,” she says. “And we’ll see you at the press conference in a little bit.”
Framing her face in my hands, I lower my lips to hers and gently nibble at the corner of her mouth. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Are you nervous?” She frowns up at me. “Ry, if you’re not ready to retire—”
“That’s not it. I’m just really glad you’re here with me today. It’s an important day. You were here in the beginning, and you’re here at the end, and I’m fucking grateful.”
Her sweet face softens as she steps into me, rests her cheek on my chest, and hugs me tight.
“There’s nowhere else I’d be. I won’t miss it. Go have your meeting.”
I press my lips to the top of her head, take a deep breath, and then step away.
“I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Willow offers me a wide smile and a wink, then hurries off to join Aiden and Mac.
Mac may give me shit, but he’ll take good care of them while I’m busy with this meeting. As I walk through the facility, fifteen years’ worth of memories swamp me. Practices. Injuries and therapy in the medical pavilion. Team meetings. Media conferences.
It was a damn good ride.
I make my way into the conference room next to the owner’s office and find everyone already here.
The ownership, led by Barry Jefferson. My coaching team. My trainers.
Everyone that helped me be a success in Seattle is in this room.
Except Andy. He wasn’t invited here.
“Cap,” Coach says, holding out his hand. They all stand for me, shake my hand, clap me on the back. Mr. Jefferson hugs me, patting me on the back.
These people are an extension of my family.
“I’m so sorry about Ray,” Mr. Jefferson says, and I nod in return.
“Thank you.”
After we take our seats, I sigh and lean on the table, folding my hands together. “I need to thank you.” My eyes move around the room. “All of you. You gave me a life that I never could have dreamed of.”
“We didn’t give you anything,” Coach says, his voice as gruff as always. “You fucking earned it, kiddo.”
I lick my lips. “I should have reached out to you all myself, rather than letting Andy handle it.”
“It’s the offseason,” Mr. Jefferson reminds me. “And you were dealing with the loss of your father.”
These guys get it, but my agent was a prick about it.
“Now,” Mr. Jefferson continues, “we would be happy to extend your contract and offer you a fuck ton of money to stay for two more years.”
I grin at him. “I appreciate that. I already have a fuck ton of money.”
He nods. “I figured you’d say that. I just didn’t want you to make a big decision like this while grieving.”
“We want to make sure you won’t regret it later,” Coach adds.
I sit back in the chair and push my fingers through my hair. I’m in my usual suit and tie, which I haven’t worn since Ray’s funeral. It’s not exactly comfortable.
“I was already considering retirement,” I admit. “Hockey is a brutal sport, and I’m thirty-five.”
“You have to hurt,” one of the trainers says with a knowing wince.
“Daily,” I confirm. “And I need to work the ranch that my father built. I need to retire before I’m so crippled up from hockey that I can’t do that anymore.”
“We’re not closing the door,” Mr. Jefferson says. “You may not play anymore, but we’ll include you in alumni games and invite you for special events. I hope you’ll consider coming. You are a part of our family.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Thank you for including me.”
“In addition,” Mr. Jefferson continues, and I see Coach’s face droop, as if he’s sad. “We’ll be retiring your number.”
That doesn’t shock me. In fact, I’d be surprised if they didn’t do that.