Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Tank fucking Meyers is here to lead the LA Storm to victory, and come the end of the season, not one person will doubt me again. This’ll be the best season the LA Storm will ever see.
I push myself to the limit as I put the boys through some sprints. I shoot up the length of the rink, keeping my puck firmly in sight before my blades cut through the ice and create an avalanche of shavings as I come to a sudden stop, only to turn and push myself back up the other end.
My strides push me ahead of the other guys, and I hear their desperation as their blades cut through the ice, desperately trying to keep up with me. Miller included.
“Alright, boys. Bring it in,” Coach finally says.
We all come into the center of the ice and drop down to one knee. The rink is silent apart from the boys’ heavy panting as they try to catch their breaths. I look around the circle of guys, and see they are all a ragged mess of sweat. That’s when I realize that I need to be pushing them harder in their cardio. They’re all above where they need to be in their weights training, but they all fucking hate cardio.
Well, that shit is about to change. Cardio is about to become their bitch.
The LA Storm won’t just be unbeatable. We’re going to be the team that people think about when they think of the best. Coaches all over the world will be showing our plays to their teams because we’re just that damn good. We’ll be the fucking benchmark for success. We’ll be the team that kids dream to be a part of, and those very same kids will work their asses off to make their dream come true and continue the great name of the LA Storm, just like I know my son would have.
I quit dreaming of the bright future this team has and concentrate on Coach Larsden as he gets stuck into today’s plan. He splits us into two teams, placing myself and Miller as the leaders, wanting us to go over our new plays during a mock game.
I grin over at my best friend and see the challenge written in his eyes. The fucker thinks he’s got this, and it’s going to be pretty fucking amazing taking it from him.
Two newbies get the nets and place them in position at either end of the rink as a few of the guys collect the pucks scattered over the ice. A few minutes later, the timer is set and the whistle blows.
Two hours later, after one of the craziest training sessions we’ve ever had, I stand with Miller in the locker room, stripping off my training gear. “That last shot was a foul,” Miller says as he sits to untie his skates.
“Bullshit,” I scoff, knowing damn well he’s right, but I’m not about to admit that shit. “In all my years of hockey, I’ve not once had a foul called on me. You’re just out of sorts because you can’t beat me anymore.”
“Whatever,” he mutters. “It was definitely a foul.”
I roll my eyes and quickly get myself showered and dressed before heading out to the parking lot with Miller. I’m telling him all about Sophie’s deal for returning to work when he cuts me off.
“Holy shit, dude,” he says as he gawks at the parking lot.
I look up and follow his line of sight straight to my truck, and my jaw drops. The shock of what I’m seeing quickly wears off, and morphs into red-hot fury.
The whole thing is trashed, and I don’t mean someone backed into it trying to park. I mean that it’s trashed in the Carrie Underwood “Think Before He Cheats” kind of way. All four tires slashed, and it looks like someone took a baseball bat to the windows and bodywork before finishing it off with a can of spray paint.
“Who the fuck would have done this?” Miller asks as we rush over to my truck to inspect the damage.
“I have no fucking idea, but whoever it was is going to pay,” I tell him.
Miller looks over the spray paint, reading the words out loud. “Liar. Cheater. Dickhead,” he says. “Dude, it sounds like a jealous girlfriend or something. Maybe the bitch got the wrong truck.”
“Maybe,” I grunt, taking in the damage to the grill.
“Fuck, man,” Cameron says as he comes to look at my truck with a few of the other guys. “You’ve been up to no good, aye?” he questions with a smirk. “Got a side chick we don’t know about?”
At that, I grab him by his shirt and slam him against the side of my fucked-up truck. “You ever suggest that I’ve been unfaithful to my wife again, and I’ll kick your ass so hard that you’ll never walk again.”