Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
What’s got me wired and unable to sleep is that I haven’t been able to talk to Brooke. I didn’t call her this morning after Christian left because it would have only been about 4 A.M. her time and I didn’t want to wake her up. So I sent her a text that said, Hey, baby. Christian told me everything. It’s going to be completely fine, I promise. Call me when you get a moment.
I had hoped that would give her enough reassurances when she woke up to start the day.
She never called, though.
And she didn’t text.
Not a single peep out of her all day, despite the fact I’ve tried on a few occasions to call and text her. While the day was busy between a morning practice skate, team meals, warm-ups, physical therapy, and meetings to get ready for the game that night, I had expected to be able to have a few minutes to chat with her.
By the time I was dressed for the game, I was forced to pull Coach Perron aside to ask him about it. He’s very much aware of the shitstorm that’s going on, as is the rest of the team, because Christian made a formal announcement about it at the morning skate. As for what Brooke and I had done, he only said, “You’ll undoubtedly read what I consider to be tabloid fodder about Brooke Perron and Bishop Scott. That’s their business, and if and when they’re ready to make a statement about it, they will.”
I wasn’t fucking ready right then, mainly because I wanted to talk to Brooke first.
I did, however, take a few moments in private to tell Erik and Legend about what was going on. They’d become my closest friends next to Dax and felt they had the right to know. Both of them assured me they were cool and they had my back. It was the only thing that made me feel marginally better today.
So when I pulled Coach Perron aside before the game, I was hopeful he’d be able to tell me something that would settle me down. Just a simple I’ve talked to Brooke and she’s fine would have sufficed.
Instead, he merely glared at me before I could even open my mouth and growled, “Not in a mood to talk to you, Scott.”
“But—”
“Not another word,” he said threateningly with his finger pointed right at me. “Not. Another. Word.”
I slammed my mouth shut, beyond frustrated I wasn’t going to get any help from him.
Blue brings me another bourbon. She asks once again if I’d like something to eat. I’m not sure if she’s heard what’s going on, but I’m thinking she has by the look of sympathy she keeps giving me and the fact that she’s being overly solicitous, like a worried mother. Erik asks for a bottled water from her and she ignores him.
I merely turn my head and gaze out the window at the dark patches below while the world sleeps, broken up by areas of twinkling lights when we fly over cities. I’ve always loved flying at night, as something about the sparkling lights seems sort of festive.
They’re doing nothing for me tonight, though.
* * *
—
Thankfully, I’ve slept off the liquor by the time we land in Phoenix. Grabbing my backpack, which holds my laptop, tablet, chargers, headphones, neck pillow, and other travel whatnot, I wave goodbye to Blue and jog down the stairs to the tarmac.
“Later, dude,” Erik says as I step off to the side and wait.
Dax and Legend come down moments later. I get fist bumps from them.
Tacker gives me a chin lift.
Player after player comes down, along with some coaches and other staff.
And then Coach Perron steps out of the plane and starts to descend the stairs. When he’s three steps from the bottom, he notices me standing off to the side and his lips press into a grim line.
The minute his foot his the concrete I say, “Coach, I need a word with you.”
“I don’t have time to talk,” he growls out the side of his mouth at me.
He gets one step away before I’m grabbing on to his shoulder. Not overly tight, but just to get his attention. I don’t try to lower my voice and I don’t give a fuck who’s listening. “With all due respect, this is about the emotional well-being of your daughter, so you should make fucking time.”
He turns and glares at me.
I add, “Sir.”
Coach heaves a mighty sigh of resignation and I follow him several paces away from the plane so we can have privacy. While I want to demand he tell me Brooke is okay, I start where I should. “I really want to apologize for my deception.”
“You mean ‘our’ deception, don’t you?” he asks, but oddly he doesn’t sound all that put out about it. If anything, he seems…amused?