Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
And honestly, with three kids, my husband considers a matching satin bra and panties lingerie. He’s unfailingly eager. We’ve gotten very good at pleasing each other, and we’re having more sex than ever.
Marlowe wraps her arms around me in a quick hug and I squeeze her back. She knows me well, and the championship series has been exciting and fun, but I’m also a giant, fraying ball of anxiety.
Beau didn’t want to talk much about how nervous he was about this game, but I’ve been able to feel the anticipation coming off him in waves since the Coyotes made the championship.
If we don’t win tonight, the final game will be in Boston. A championship win is a win on any ice, but our whole family won’t be able to make it to Boston for the final game.
“Let’s go, Dad!” Charlie screams as the ref holds the puck in the air, looking at the players positioned to fight for it.
It takes no time and forever all at once. He drops the puck and the game starts.
CHAPTER FOUR
Beau
Colby passes the puck to me. I’m in position to receive it and take a quick shot when a massive brick wall barrels into me instead, boarding me so hard it takes me a second to catch my breath.
Trevor Morris knocks me back to the ground as soon as I get up, grunting and punching his chest like a pissed-off primate.
I scored the game-winning goal for my team last night, and our opponents are punishing me for it. Trevor’s always been a beast, but during his first two years in the big league, he’s gotten leaner and faster.
The refs aren’t calling many penalties so far. We prefer it that way in high-stakes games, as long as they’re doing it to both teams. Just let us brawl it out and see who’s stronger and better.
The tang of blood runs down my lips and touches my tongue, making me realize I’ve got a bloody nose. I ignore it until line change.
As soon as I climb over the wall, our trainer passes me a towel to clean up with. Ford glances at my face as I wipe away the blood.
“It’s not broken,” he mutters absently.
I’d keep playing even if it was. I’ve dreamed of this moment my whole career. It’s a lot of pressure, playing in a championship game for the first time with my wife, our kids and the rest of the family watching. I’m thirty-two years old. This is probably my last game ever.
My left knee has been killing me off and on all season. I’ve had every kind of shot you can get this season to alleviate the pain and swelling, even one that uses my own blood. The doctors have told me there’s nothing nonsurgical left and that it’s a wonder I can mask the pain as well as I do.
Mila and I had the hard conversation a couple of months ago, and I know she didn’t tell another soul about it, and she never will. Not even Colby, her own husband.
It’s time. The team needs to acquire some younger, sharper players, and veterans like me need to gracefully step aside to make it happen,or get traded.
I’ll never play for another team. I’m a Coyote. Mila held on to me for a couple of extra years out of sheer loyalty. She knew our new coach, Phil Farmer, was putting the pieces in place to get us to the championship.
Win or lose, I’ll never be able to express what it means to me that Mila gave me this moment. This is my home. Not just Denver, but this team. These fans.
After the first period, the game is tied 1–1. Ben scored our goal. His wife and son are here, too, though Joey’s too young to really understand what’s going on. I love that Charlie’s old enough now to get excited about my games.
That comes with pressure, though. I want him to be proud of me. This season has been a battle with my knee issues, and I’ve got teammates who have also fought through a lot to be here.
Sergei’s got a shoulder that needs surgery when the season ends. Colby’s got long COVID, the fatigue making it hard for him to keep up. He pretty much sleeps and plays hockey right now, and he hates not having much energy left for his family.
I glance around the locker room as Coach Farmer lets us all have a few seconds to get a drink and sit down. It already looks different, some old faces replaced by new ones. Dom suffered a career-ending broken leg two years ago. Beck got traded last season.
I want us to win tonight, but I get a lump in my throat as I think about never dressing for another hockey game. It’s such a big part of who I am.