Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
By the end of the second period, Phoenix is up by two, and it’s been the workout to end all workouts. My muscles are screaming and my eyes are exhausted from watching every nanosecond of the game. As I skate off the ice, I grab my water bottle, down some, then glance at the stands. That’s something I rarely do, but tonight my sister, Sophie, is here with Kade and they’re sitting center ice. I tip my chin toward them and Kade waves wildly to me, then I disappear.
That kid is pretty much the cutest thing I’ve ever seen—well, Athena is cuter, but cats aside, my nephew is—and I’d like to win for him.
In the locker room, I do my best to refocus as Coach prowls the room. “They don’t get to come into our house and clean up like that. We need to be getting in their faces. Taking shot after shot on their net. I want you to get back out there, be aggressive, take control of the game, and don’t let them get all the damn shots. Get creative. Get a power play. And get some points, men.” He breaks down the game, then highlights the opportunities we’re blowing, talks up the plays we should be taking, then pauses, scanning the room. Noah McBride looks like a CEO in his suit. He’s tall, sturdy, a former player, and now, a methodical, coolly strategic coach. His inspo speeches aren’t long. They don’t need to be, because he commands the room with his mind. “You’ve got this, team.”
When the intermission’s up, we hit the ice again with renewed focus. Aggression even. And it works.
Bryant attacks the puck fast and hard, sending it screaming into the net at the start of the third period. Ten minutes later, Falcon goes on a tear, flying down the ice, then flipping the puck to Callahan who sends it screaming past their goalie’s legs.
Yes, fucking yes! I’m cheering from the other end of the ice. We’re tied now. All we need is another goal, and for me to shut them down.
Trouble is, Phoenix slips one past me, and that’s all she wrote.
I’m pissed when I leave the ice, but one look at Kade, and I’ve got to let it go. He’s clapping as I head to the tunnel, barely seeming to care about the final score.
Truth be told, I don’t let the day in and day out eat away at me. Hockey is a long season, and I intend to have a long career. I don’t beat myself up over the losses. I focus on the next game and doing better.
A little later, after I’m showered and dressed, I track down Sophie and Kade in the corridor, where I told them to wait for me, away from the media scrum. They’re hanging out with Josie, Wesley’s girlfriend. When he told me she was coming to the game tonight—which she often does—I asked if she could hang with my sister and nephew at the end. She said yes. It’s not the first time she’s done this.
She’s showing Kade some of the trophies. No, wait. She’s reading to him the words on the plaques inside the trophy case. Of course. She’s a librarian, so everything’s a reading opportunity. When she spots me, she waves, and I head over.
“Thanks, Josie.”
“Anytime. And next time I’ll bring my hockey little reader for you,” she says to Kade.
His blue eyes pop. “Yes! Thank you, Jo-Jo-Jo,” he says, trying to say her name.
“Jo-Jo-Jo works for me,” she says, then takes off.
I scoop up Kade, who’s all smiles—the life of an almost five-year-old.
“You almost won, Uncle Max,” he says. “But I don’t care because I got popcorn. They have my favorite popcorn here. Do you know what else they have?”
“What else?” I ask the cutie as I set him down in the corridor.
“Mushroom jerky! I thought it was going to be gross, but it’s so good.”
I laugh, turning to Sophie. “Mushroom jerky? They’re serving mushroom jerky here now?”
My sister sweeps her arm in the direction of the arena. “Have you seen this place? Of course they serve it.”
“Yeah, makes sense. If mushroom jerky doesn’t say bougie, I don’t know what does.”
The vendors are chichi, the offerings are organic and expensive, and the ticket prices are outrageous. Also, every game’s sold out. Pretty sure my sister would never be able to afford the tickets on her own. She’s a nurse raising a kid solo with some help from our parents, so outrageous hockey ticket prices are not in her budget. Fortunately, I get comp seats, so I get to treat her to the best seats in the house.
I turn my attention back to Kade. “What’s your favorite flavor of popcorn?”
“Everything bagel,” he says, then shakes his head. “But I didn’t pick it. Mommy did. I wanted kettle corn, but she got the everything kind, and I didn’t think I’d like it. But I did. Just like the jerky.”