Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“What?” Matthew and Max both whisper.
“Whatever,” Zara says, and then she lets go of my hand. “You,” she goes to Matthew, and, “you,” she points at Max, “no funny shit on the ice. Got it?”
I shake my head and bring her back to me. “Zara,” I hiss, “I got it.” She gets on her tippy toes and pecks me on the lips. “Good luck out there.”
She turns back around. “Don’t make me put shit in your shampoo.” She glares at them and walks away.
“You made her change?” Matthew asks confused, and then Max asks, “Like her clothes?”
“Yeah,” I tell them. “She was wearing this white shirt you could see her bra,” I tell them and then turn to walk away. I go into our locker room and get ready, going through the same routine I always go through with my workout drills and then I suit up for the pre-game skate. I go on the ice and skate around, and then I see her. She is holding a kid in her hand that has to be Max’s. Seeing my girl holding a girl, I swear my heart squeezes in my chest. I almost stop skating in the middle of the ice when it hits me. I love her. I’ve fallen in love with her. She is wearing my jersey, but the little girl is wearing the New York jersey, and I skate to the side where she is at. She whispers in the girl’s ear, and the girl waves at me. I bring my glove up and bend my fingers to say hello. When I get the puck, I throw it over, and she picks it up for her, and the girl smiles from ear to ear.
Corey pushes me to move and do the play, and practice is over before I know it. I skate to the back and go over the drills in my head. The coach comes in and goes over a couple of plays. “It’s our last game before going home,” he says. “Let’s win at least this one.” We’ve had three loses in a row on the road. No one wants to make it four. When we take the ice, I’m ready. I skate onto the ice with the boos sounding in my ears.
We start at the center ice, and it’s me against Matthew, Corey against Max, and I look over and see them talking. “I promise not to hurt you tonight,” Matthew says, and I throw my head back and laugh. “I promised.”
I shake my head. “Bring it,” I tell him. “Do your worst.”
Now he laughs, and we stop talking when the referee comes over. “Let’s start the game, boys,” he says, and I lean down, my eyes on his hand, and the second that he drops the puck, I move on Matthew. We both miss the puck, but I kick it behind me with my skate and push past him. He doesn’t hit me, though he anticipates every move I make, so when I push, he just pushes harder. It goes on like that for two periods, and I’m so fucking tired, but I’m not giving up.
I look up at the jumbotron and see that two minutes remain in the third period. “I’d really like to win in regular time,” I tell Corey, who just nods his head, and then it’s our line’s turn, so I jump over the board right when they are making a play in the neutral zone, and Corey intercepts it. Turning to go back into their zone, I’m there with him, and because we messed up their line change, we are with the fourth line instead of playing against Matthew and Max. Their defense man backs up while we are three on two. Corey passes it to me, and I see him speed up, so I pass it right back to him as he skates on the side and I rush the goal. He passes me the puck, and I shoot, hitting the side of the post. When the puck lands on my stick again, I flip it up and send it over the goal line. The red light behind the goal goes on, and I lift my hand and point at Corey. “All you.”
We go to the bench and high-five everyone and then skate back to the center ice and now Matthew and Max come back on. “Got a lucky one there,” he says, and I just shrug.
“Either way, I’ll take it,” I say, and for the next two minutes, it’s head to head. They pull the goalie and one of the rookies slides it in to clench the win two to nothing. We skate off the ice, and I’m named first star, but I don’t do the round like I do in Dallas. Instead, I rush to the room and change. The rest of the team are heading back tonight, but I’m staying back, and I booked a private plane tomorrow afternoon. I hurry up and shower, then grab my stuff, throwing it into my bag that is going back to Dallas. “Safe flight, boys,” I tell them. I told the coach this morning that I would be going back home the next day because I had a personal appointment. He knew full well what my personal problem was, and as long as my ass was on the ice on Monday, he didn’t care. So I walk out of the locker room in search of my girl.