Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Coach West answers. “Van’s defensive abilities are top-notch. His prowess on the ice can solidify our defense, but it’s his strategic understanding of the game that will help enhance our overall performance. Van’s return isn’t just about adding a player to our roster—it’s about bringing in a seasoned professional who knows how to win and can impart that knowledge and mindset to the rest of the team. This is especially helpful since, as you know, we’ve rebuilt with younger players coming up from the minors.”
More questions are hurled and an older reporter I recognize from when I last played stands. He’s old-school, clutching a spiral pad and pen to jot notes. His eyes come straight to me. “Van, can you comment on your father’s recent biography? Has it impacted your decision to return?”
Well, that’s fucking disappointing. Not that I expected the topic would be averted, but I didn’t expect a veteran reporter to care about this shit. The mention of my father causes a twinge in my gut, an old wound that refuses to heal.
What I’d like to do is smash my fist into his face, but instead, I choose my words carefully. “Let’s keep this about hockey. I’m here because I want to play, not to discuss a book I had no hand in writing.”
The next question comes from a middle-aged man in the front row, his glasses reflecting the overhead lights. “How does your wife feel about your comeback, given her own connection to the hockey world?”
Simone.
My heart clenches at the mention of her. I wrestle with my emotions, remembering why I’m here and what I left behind. “Simone is part of the hockey community, and she understands what this life demands.”
That did not answer the question, but I truly have no clue how she feels about it. I never discussed it with her. I’m surprised by how steady my voice sounds despite the fact it feels like my chest is cracking open. I glance around the room, nearly begging with my expression for someone to ask a hockey question. “Van, do you think the shadows from your past will affect your game or the Titans’ dynamic?”
The pain in my chest recedes, replaced with a burning anger in my gut at the fucking idiotic question. It’s a jab, trying to draw out a reaction. I force a thin smile onto my face, holding my ground. “I’m here to play hockey. I believe my skills on the ice will speak louder than any perceived ‘shadows.’ As for the Titans’ dynamic, I’ll do my part to contribute positively and play the best hockey I can.”
The next few questions are focused on the training regimen I’ve maintained over the last three years and not on my personal life. Even though no one asks about Arco or Simone at this moment, I’m still incredibly uneasy in the spotlight. A bead of sweat rolls down my temple, but I let that be the only visible sign I’m uncomfortable. I maintain my facade, bearing the weight of my decision to step back into the public eye. After all, I’m here to play, and that’s all they need to know.
“Okay… we have time for one more question,” Callum says, his gaze roaming the room. A flurry of activity explodes, a disorienting storm of reporters shouting questions faster than I can process. The lights from the cameras flash relentlessly, the barrage of voices growing louder. My past, my father, my marriage… they’re all on display, picked apart by these vultures.
“Van, are you afraid your father’s legacy will haunt you on the ice?”
“Did Simone push you to rejoin the league?”
“What’s the real reason behind your sudden return to the game?”
“Are you worried about your past distracting your teammates?”
“Did you read your father’s biography?”
“Did you see your father before he died?”
The questions are painful, each one a stabbing needle of inquiry. The room spins as the noise crescendos, my heart pounding in my ears. I drop my hands to my lap so the vultures can’t see me clenching my fists in anger. My skin prickles with the need to do violence because these assholes aren’t here for the hockey.
They’re here for the drama, for the man whose life has been a spectacle of tragedies.
I knew this was going to happen and it was still a better choice than staying with Simone. I’d rather be subjected to this every day than have another moment inside the home I built with my wife because that had become too painful to deal with.
A thunderous voice booms through the chaos. “Enough!” Callum snarls as he pounds his fist on the table, his face flushed with anger. “This is a hockey press conference, not a tabloid interrogation. If you can’t keep your questions related to the game, the team or Van’s professional career, you can leave.”