Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Something twinges in my chest, because I assume everyone thinks that’s why I’ve remained decidedly single to this day. Because I can’t get over Melissa.
Ava doesn’t think that, but then again, I’ve told Ava the underlying truth about my marriage. No one knows that except my family.
“It always boils down to my career. I’m so deep into my work that I don’t have time for much else. It was the exact problem that caused my marriage to crumble. I may have walked away from hockey, but I’m back now and fully invested in my new life of coaching. I don’t have a lot of room to share myself, and I don’t want to feel guilty for loving my career so much.”
“Stolen moments,” Ava murmurs. “Now I get why you keep talking about that.”
“I just want to be honest with you about who I am. We need to have an understanding.”
Ava pulls her hand from mine and places it on my chest. “You’ve been very clear, Cannon. I don’t have any pipe dreams, okay? Just… if you get to the point you think we’re moving at different speeds and I’m going somewhere you don’t want to go, you have to tell me.”
“Okay.”
“Promise,” she demands. “Don’t let me chase something that’s not achievable.”
“I promise,” I say, and it’s the cruelest commitment I’ve ever been asked to make because I don’t want to hurt her.
And I’m afraid that’s going to happen no matter how open we’ve been about all of this.
CHAPTER 19
Ava
Cannon holds my hand as we walk toward the restaurant. It’s a steakhouse a few blocks down from the Houston hotel we’re staying in for the last game of the road trip tomorrow night. Today the team had a light practice, some meetings, and now a team dinner where everyone can relax and have a good meal together.
While many on the team have seen me here and there the last few days—at breakfast with Cannon in the hotel restaurant or hanging with him in the lobby after the team came back from a game—I’ve not spent any time with them. This isn’t due to choice but rather circumstances. It’s busy, busy, busy on game days.
Outside of the trunk-or-treat where I met a handful of players, tonight is the first time I’ll be interacting with them. I’m grateful Sophie is on the trip with Baden so at least I have another woman to talk to.
The last few days have been… well, I’m not sure how to describe it. The Titans played back-to-back games in Los Angeles—first the Demons, then the Dragons. Cannon was super focused, working with the coaching staff and at the arena practicing with the team. I got to see firsthand how much of him goes into this job.
He spent a lot of time away from our room, which was fine because I was working, but even when he came to join me for lunch, he was always answering calls and texts, checking his iPad, and parceling out tasks. Every night I’d wake up to find him at the desk, his face awash in the glow of the tablet screen, watching video and taking notes.
Even with all that, Cannon handles the stress of his job well. If he’s feeling it, I’m not seeing it, but I know it can’t be easy.
Still, yesterday I woke up braced for the dawn of November fourth—the nine-year anniversary of Melissa’s death. I didn’t know what to expect or how Cannon would act. If he was under intense work stress that I wasn’t seeing, I worried that the anniversary might push him over the edge. I was prepared for him to behave in a variety of ways—sad, sullen, withdrawn, angry—and I was ready for whatever Cannon needed from me.
To my surprise, it was a normal day. Well, normal for a head coach of a professional hockey team who had a game that night. Outside of a forty-minute phone call with Connie over the lunch break while I worked, Cannon acted no differently. I asked him one time only, just before he headed to the arena to get ready for the game. “How are you doing?”
He knew I wasn’t asking about hockey.
Cannon pulled me into his arms and pressed a kiss to my forehead before saying, “I’m good. A little sad, but also not having any problems focusing on the things I need to focus on.”
I believed him too.
Then he kissed me again, this time a little deeper before rubbing his nose along mine. “Thank you for asking. And for understanding.”
When we enter the restaurant, we’re led to a back room reserved for the team. It looks like most of the players and staff are here, which isn’t surprising. Cannon talked me into a shower quickie before we came, so now we’re a few minutes late.
He introduces me to everyone. There’s no way I can remember all the faces and names, and by the time we make it to the table we’re sharing with the other team members, my head is spinning.