Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“People suck,” I tell Puck, who’s sitting on the back of the couch like it’s his throne.
He peeks at me, his expression saying, Look in the mirror, bro.
“I don’t suck,” I tell my cat as if he really spoke to me.
My phone rings, and I plop down beside Puck and smile before answering. “Hey, Ma.”
“How are your ribs? I saw the hit you took when you slammed Burgess into the boards in the third last night.”
I can’t help smiling. This woman has done everything in her power to support me my whole life. She and my dad both have—and when I say dad, I mean my chosen father and not the one I share my DNA with. There were times when they were both working two jobs to make ends meet, to help me get into hockey camps and participate on league teams. I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for them.
“They’re fine. I took an ice bath last night and have been icing them off and on today.”
“Did the trainer look you over?”
“Are you kidding? He knows if he didn’t, he would have to deal with you.”
“That’s what I like to hear. You were on fire.”
I grin, my mind filling with thoughts of the game mixed up with how Hayes lost it when he was going at my mouth.
“You’re smiling, aren’t you?”
A chuckle slips past my lips. “You know me too well.”
“Oh, your dad wants to say hi. I’m going to put it on speaker.”
“You still flying high after last night? You were like lightning on those skates,” Dad says with pride.
“You have no idea.” I always loved hockey. I can’t imagine what I would be doing with my life if I didn’t have it, but I really fucking love it on nights like last night…and I also wish Hayes had been watching. Did he look up highlights afterward? Did it impress him? Was he—
“Ry?”
“Hmm?” I ask, realizing I was obsessing about Hayes and missed what Mom said.
“Dad and I were thinking about coming out there. The cold has been more difficult on him this year and—”
“Yes. Absolutely. I want you out here permanently.” It’s a discussion we’ve had more than once. After everything they did for me, I want to be able to give them everything they need. They’ve stuck to their guns about staying in New Hampshire because that’s always been home. That’s where they were both born and raised. They’re also both fiercely independent. It was already hard for them to accept the house I bought them, and with Dad’s diagnosis, I know he doesn’t want to feel like he has to move or has to do anything really. He wants it on his terms, and while I get that, I also just miss them.
“I know you do,” Mom says in that soft mom voice, the one that warms your insides.
“So what’d you do differently last night?” Dad asks, bringing the subject back to hockey. He knew nothing about the game before I decided I wanted to play, but now both of them are hockey experts. They care about every aspect of my game, but I highly doubt they want to hear that I blew this hot, nerdy guy and he’s my secret weapon.
“He worked hard. That’s what he did,” Mom says.
“He always works hard,” Dad concurs, and damn, do I feel their pride in me through the line.
We chat for a few more minutes before ending the call. I’m stoked to have them out here for the next few months at least, and make a quick call to the cleaners to set up an appointment to get the small house I purchased here for them freshened up before they arrive next week.
Hayes will be here soon, so I take a shower and throw on a pair of exercise shorts, no shirt. There’s a strange buzzing beneath my skin I can’t quite tell the reason for, so I do my best to ignore it.
He’ll show up, I’ll ask him if he wants to continue hooking up with me, and then the cards will be in his hand.
I instantly perk up when my doorbell rings. A ridiculous smile climbs onto my face as I head over and open the door. Hayes is wearing a pair of jeans, a light-blue polo, and despite having just done the same thing myself, I say, “Your hair is wet. You went home to shower and change before you came over. You want to—umpf,” I grunt when he throws himself at me, making pain pulse through my bruised torso.
It’s immediately forgotten when Hayes’s lips crash down on mine. I wrap my arms around his waist, kicking the door closed while we devour each other’s mouths, hands urgent and needy all over each other’s bodies.
I really, really want to tease him for how hungry he is for me, but I’m afraid to stop, don’t want to do anything to make him think this feeling isn’t completely reciprocated.