Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“All scotch tastes like dirty socks to me,” Wylde replies with a wrinkled nose. He’s drinking domestic beer, so what could he possibly know about the finer subtleties of flavors?
Chuckling, Dax shakes his head. “Dude… you are about as unsophisticated as they come.”
Wylde shrugs. “I’m just a blue-collar man stuffed into a professional athlete’s body.” He shoots Dax a wicked grin. “Besides… I’m sophisticated where it matters.”
“Oh, you mean with the women,” Erik jabs with a smirk.
“Don’t be all jealous now that you’ve lost your reigning crown as the team’s playboy,” Wylde retorts with a grin before pulling on his beer.
We all laugh but then Bishop asks a sobering question to Wylde. “You heard anything else from Rafe?”
The mood around the dark fire pit instantly turns somber. Yesterday, we found out Rafe’s father had died. Wylde had kept in close contact with Rafe since his move to the Cold Fury as he’s apparently been through something similar with a parent, although I’m not privy to those details.
Wylde shakes his head. “Nah… he said he’d text me details about the service when I talked to him last night.”
“Pass those on if you don’t mind,” I say, intent on doing something nice for Rafe’s family. A personal gesture outside whatever the team will do as figured out by the front office.
“Sure thing,” Wylde replies softly.
“I hate it for him,” Tacker mutters. “He’s had such major changes going on… his dad getting sick, moving to a new team, playoffs, and now his dad dying.”
It’s a lot for sure, and yes, the Cold Fury is deep into the playoffs, too. They had the first game of their conference playoffs for the title to the Eastern Conference last night, same as us. They’re going up against the New York Vipers, a tough opponent, but one they are expected to defeat. As it stands, most everyone thinks it’s going to be a showdown between the Vengeance and the Cold Fury in the Cup finals, but I never assume anything. Instead, I put my head down and push forward as hard as I can until I accomplish my goals.
The great thing about this team is I stacked it with men who have the same philosophy.
We chat about Rafe some more, and the guys make tentative plans to perhaps pay him a visit over the summer. Legend puts a call into the babysitter watching Charlie to check in, and drinks are refilled.
I decide to bring up a subject before we get too drunk and I simply forget. It’s a simple matter, really.
“Listen,” I say, and that one word gets their attention. “I have some special guests coming in for the game tomorrow. Kids, as a matter of fact, and they’ll be joining me in the owner’s box. I was hoping to get some of you to meet with them before the game. I have some jerseys and other gear for them. I know they’d love pictures and autographs.”
Every single one answers they’ll be there, which I appreciate greatly. I figured I could count on them. They’ve shown how easy it is for them to come together as a group in support of something, as they’ve done on countless other occasions when someone on the team has needed help.
“What’s so special about these kids?” Dax asks.
“They live in a group home in California that I donate a lot of money to,” I say.
“A cause near and dear to the heart?” he probes.
I take a sip of my scotch, savoring the smoky peat and hint of vanilla before swallowing. “It’s where I grew up during my teen years.”
Dax’s eyebrows shoot upward, and I can sense everyone else’s eyes on me as well. It’s not a private fact, but it’s clearly not well known as I can sense the shock among them.
I go ahead and fill them in since I can see the questions written all over their faces. “Parents died when I was young. Lived with my grandpa. He died. Went into foster care, but I was too old to adopt. Ended up at a group home, then left when I turned eighteen. It’s that simple.”
“Nothing simple about that,” Bishop says in a low tone.
“I had no idea,” Dax says with a slow shake of his head. “And look at what you’ve made of yourself. Impressive, man. Cheers.”
He holds his drink up in a silent toast, and I nod back with a smile. I don’t need accolades or affirmations from him, but it’s nice to know he appreciates my journey, just like his sister does.
It’s probably a given that Dax and I have a bromance going on at this point. It started when we realized our mutual hatred of Willow’s career due to the dangers, and it blossomed from there. We had actually gone out for beers the night her family called her for an ill-conceived intervention. We continued to bond as we drank and freely complained to each other about his sister.