Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
After a couple of minutes tick by, she leans closer. “Are you certain about going through with this?”
Hell, no.
At the moment, I’m not sure about anything. I could end up making a huge ass out of myself in front of an arena full of fans. And you know damn well that people will whip out their cell phones to video the entire thing.
With my luck, it’ll go viral.
That thought makes me nauseous.
For all I know, Ryder has moved on.
Or worse, I really hurt him, and what I say won’t mean a damn thing.
I’ll have single-handedly thrown away the best relationship I’ve ever found.
Or will find.
The fear that grips me is almost paralyzing. Thick emotion clogs my throat as the Western Wildcats take to the ice, circling their half for warmups. As soon as Ryder skates past our seats, my gaze latches onto him. He’s the only thing I’m cognizant of.
I’ve missed him so much that my heart aches.
My gaze licks over him greedily as he skates by. It feels more like weeks or months rather than days since I last laid eyes on him. It doesn’t make sense that I’ve known him my entire life and we barely had anything to do with each other, and in the span of a few short weeks, he’s become my everything.
“Are you all right?” Carina asks softly.
I rip my gaze away from Ryder long enough to meet her concerned eyes before they bounce back to him. Not once has he glanced in this direction, and I know that has everything to do with the fact that I’m sitting here. He understands that no matter what happened between us, there’s no way I’d miss Maverick’s game.
“I think so.”
“When were you planning on doing it?”
I jerk my shoulders and gnaw my lower lip. “I’m not sure. When the time feels right, I guess.” That thought has a horde of angry butterflies winging their way to life inside the confines of my belly. Any moment, they’ll escape.
“Do your parents have any idea what you’re up to?”
I shake my head.
“Well, this should definitely be interesting,” she says, tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.
That’s the least of what it will be.
After fifteen minutes, both teams return to their benches and the lights dim. A spotlight falls in the center of the arena as music blasts throughout the building. The visiting team roster is announced first. The atmosphere becomes even more amplified as the Wildcats take to the ice one player at a time. The hometown crowd goes wild, cheering and clapping.
Bright light once again floods the large space as the first lines for both teams take their positions. Ryder skates to the blue line. All the insecurities he’s admitted over the past few weeks circle through my head. More than anything, I want him to have a good game and find the same kind of joy he used to have while playing hockey.
The puck is dropped and both centers fight for possession. At first, our team has it, but then the small black disk is knocked loose and stolen by the other team’s right wing as he races down the ice. Ryder skates backward, keeping his attention focused on the guy. Air gets trapped in my lungs as the other player attempts to deke him out, faking one way and then the other.
Ryder leaps forward, his blades digging into the ice as he knocks into him. The puck goes flying as they scrabble over it. Everyone in the stands jumps to their feet and cheers as Ryder scoops up the small black disk and takes off, flying across the ice. He winds up, looking like he’ll try to place it in the upper left corner of the net. When the goalie starts to slide, Ryder pivots to the right. But it’s too late for the goalie to catch it, and the puck whizzes past him before hitting the back of the net.
The fans filling the arena go crazy.
A horn blasts as Ryder slows, circling around the back of the net. Even from the stands, I can see the grin lighting up his face. It’s not uncommon for a defensive player to score, but it’s been a long time for him, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. What I notice throughout the rest of the game is that he plays with more confidence. I don’t know what finally clicked in his head, but I’m happy for him.
Just as the buzzer rings, signaling the end of the third period, the players clear the bench and swarm the ice. The Wildcats pulled off another win. Ryder gets a bunch of slaps on the back from his teammates.
I draw in a lungful of air to steady my nerves before quickly unzipping my jacket and tossing it to my seat so that my McAdams jersey with Ryder’s number is clearly visible. Then I hold the posterboard I’d rolled up and carried into the arena.