Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
But new to our line is Atlas Karolak at left wing and North Paquette at right wing. We worked hard this week doing drills together and then watched footage of those drills, discussing things we would change or explaining our reasons for certain moves. We developed and solidified a sort of language by which we will communicate on ice and we took all our meals together during the day.
Learning to work as a fluid unit is more than just practicing together. It’s about building trust, and I have really good vibes coming from the new guys, as I know Camden and Hendrix do too.
As I finish lacing up my second skate, I try to think of the game and focus on the job I need to do. But instead, visions of a beautiful redhead keep popping in. It’s annoying as fuck and this has been going on for the past three days—or rather, since that almost-kiss in my bathroom.
Mazzy wisely stopped us from making what could have been a huge mistake. But part of my annoyance in these continual thoughts and analysis of that moment is that it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like I was on the verge of doing something right and I don’t know why. It wasn’t even an actual kiss and is nothing that should be mourned.
And yet… I feel like I missed out on something monumental. It’s been bugging the shit out of me ever since she poured the metaphorical bucket of ice water on me.
She said it would be too confusing for Bowie Jane and that brought me to my senses. It would probably be confusing for me and Mazzy as well, so it was a good thing it didn’t happen.
Except… fuck… I really wish it had.
I cannot shake the feeling that it could have been the start of something really good. I mean, in my mind, Bowie Jane is a mature ten-year-old and I think she would understand and possibly even approve. She wants her parents to be happy. On occasion, she’ll ask me why I don’t date or why I don’t have a girlfriend. I always blow her off, telling her that she’s the only lady I need in my life. In my mind, I’ve just come out of a bad marriage and am not keen on starting up anything new anytime soon.
But Mazzy has certainly changed that.
And I likely can’t rid myself of these thoughts because my kid is crazy about Mazzy. I trust my child implicitly and she has judged Mazzy worthy of her adoration. I know I’ve certainly got my own thoughts on that because these last few weeks, I’ve learned enough about the woman to realize I want to know her better than just as Bowie Jane’s caretaker.
But… it’s probably too much confusion. It’s a bad idea for me to get involved with Mazzy, especially on the heels of Bowie Jane’s mom flaking out.
You’d think that after us almost kissing, things might be stilted and awkward between us the last few days, but on the contrary. Mazzy has acted like nothing happened. She’s been her bright, sunny self with both me and Bowie Jane. She mixes in her Mary Poppins, no-nonsense expressions, which are fucking adorable, and has engaged in conversation with me without a hint of unease.
In fact, she’s been talking to me as if that moment never occurred, fully comfortable in my presence. She doesn’t look at me strangely or hopefully or even with anger. It’s like she erased it and it never happened—and to be honest, I don’t particularly like that either.
I, on the other hand, have been stewing about it. All I can think about is—putting aside the question of how Bowie Jane would handle it—why I shouldn’t have taken that kiss. There is no doubt that Mazzy was right there with me. When we were in a quiet bubble in the bathroom with no outside influences or responsibilities, she was just as into it as I was. I saw it in her eyes.
The fact that I’m still thinking about it three days later and right before I’m about to play the first home game of the regular season tells me it’s a bigger burden than I’d anticipated. If I’m still thinking about it, it means I probably don’t accept Mazzy’s logic that this could be a bad thing. Granted, it could be sticky and messy and it might not work out.
But what if it did?
And for that matter, what the hell do I even want? Do I just want sex? I don’t think that’s it because I’ve already developed feelings for her. How could I not when she’s been so wonderful to my daughter? But maybe this will be casual, without commitment. Or maybe it would be with commitment but casual.
I really have no clue what I want because only two years after a divorce, I’ve barely processed the things that I knew I didn’t want. I think I need to commit to an ideal of what I do want before I go any further.