Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 53034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“Are you going back in?”
“Yeah, Suki and the girls are in Sedona for a spa weekend, so it’s one of those rare nights I can go out after a game. I’m not drinking, just having a steak.”
“Yeah, I was doing the same.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure yours doesn’t go to waste.” He grins. “Now get the fuck out of here, Lucy.”
“See you tomorrow.” I open the door of my car and get in, trying not to think about the medium-rare New York strip I’m about to miss out on.
Carter heads back and I start my car. It doesn’t need to warm up, because I haven’t even been here for thirty minutes.
It took me less than half an hour to dig myself a deep hole with Coach. I busted my balls in the game tonight—literally, I tweaked my groin—and then ruined it without even knowing what I was doing.
Hopefully Carter’s right, and by practice tomorrow morning, this encounter will be ancient history.
“Did I stutter, Beaumont? Get skating.”
Carter wasn’t right. Coach is bag skating me while the rest of the team watches film from last night’s game. My teammates are silent as I leave the group meeting room where we break down games.
“Don’t go easy on him,” I hear Coach tell our equipment manager, Trace.
Trace is my assigned babysitter while I skate laps as fast as I can. Pros rarely get bag skated unless we have a horrible game. Or talk to one of Coach Turner’s daughters, apparently.
Turner’s not an asshole, as long as you get him and do what he expects. That’s how I knew to humbly exit the meeting to change and skate. Reacting would have gotten me a much worse punishment.
It’s not about fairness. Life’s not fair. Turner says that all the time.
I actually feel for him. Since my drive home last night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how hard it must be for one of his daughters to have stolen another daughter’s fiancé. He’s probably extra protective of Talia after all that.
Now I get why she was so angry over me hitting on Kelsey. She probably thinks all men are trash after what Macintire did to her. I don’t even know her, but it makes me hate Macintire just a little bit more.
I change into practice clothes, not bothering with pads since I’ll be alone on the ice. Trace is sitting on the home team bench at our practice rink when I take off my guards and skate out onto the ice.
It actually feels good to be out here by myself. My dad is a former minor league hockey player, and he got me started in hockey when I was four, making sure I learned skating fundamentals long before I ever touched a stick.
At the time, I hated it. I wanted to be on the ice chasing the puck like all the other kids. But he was right. After a year of just skating almost every day, it was a lot easier for me to execute drills.
He owns a construction business now, but he still drives the Zamboni and coaches youth hockey back home in Duluth, Minnesota.
I lean into a turn, thinking about Talia again. I didn’t get to see much of her with the hood of her hoodie pulled tight around her face, but she’s pretty clearly still not over what happened with Kyle and her sister.
I wouldn’t be over it either. That’s some shady shit, doing that to your own sister. Coach doesn’t talk about his personal life, but I need to keep up on the high points of it in the future. What a fucking mess I made when I was just trying to prevent a bar fight.
That brunette’s shitty comment set Talia off, and she was ready for a fight. No fear at all. I’m known for starting fights over nothing during games. It’s a great way to break up the momentum a team may have going.
I like to shift their focus onto me, so at least some of them are thinking more about getting back at me than about scoring. Silas is more of an enforcer, but I hit opponents back sometimes.
Mostly though, I bring chaotic Loki energy into games. I’m a disrupter when I need to be.
It was boxing, which my dad had me train in as a teenager, that taught me not to fear fighting.
Years of taking and throwing punches and several broken noses later, I see fighting as a skill. It’s an asset I bring to my team, just like skating.
About thirty minutes into skating, I’m covered in sweat. I take off the hoodie I’m wearing as a top layer and set it on the half wall in front of our bench as I pass.
“Pick it up, Beaumont,” Trace yells, trying to sound authoritative.
“Suck my dick,” I call over my shoulder.