Hard Hit (St. Louis Mavericks #5) Read Online Brenda Rothert

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Sports Tags Authors: Series: St. Louis Mavericks Series by Brenda Rothert
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
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I wanted to ask her what, exactly, Danny brought to the table that was so awesome, but that wasn’t a conversation to have here or now. Not with Ellen and Dr. Matello both in the lab today.

I’d give it some thought later, though.

After the conversation with my grandmother, I had to admit I wanted and deserved someone who’d give me everything I needed, both physically and emotionally. I didn’t know exactly what that was, though, which was why dating was on the back burner until after I had my PhD.

Being in a relationship felt like so much work, and I already had my hands full trying to finish my dissertation and stay in Dr. Matello’s good graces.

Sex and romance would have to wait.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Boone

Mavericks Group Text

Lars: Sheridan is crying because we are out of cookies and the bakery is closed.

Drew: Avoid eye contact and apologize. It’s the only response when your pregnant wife is crying.

Lars: I offered to go get cookies from the grocery store and she told me to go fuck myself.

Wes: Pregnant women are always right. You should definitely GFY.

Lars: I don’t know if I can survive the rest of this pregnancy. Can we leave early for our road trip?

Kon: You didn’t hear? The road trip is canceled.

Lars: What? How? Why?

Wes: He’s kidding.

Boone: You can always come coach youth hockey. It starts in 2 hours.

Lars: No, I told Sheridan we could spend time together before I leave tomorrow.

Nash: Enjoy, bro!

Lars: I hate you all.

I was in the middle of packing for my road trip to Calgary when my phone screen lit up from its spot on my bed beside my open suitcase. When I saw my agent’s name, Evelyn, on the caller ID, I dropped the T-shirt I’d been folding and lunged for the phone.

She was feeling out the possibility of a trade to Nashville, keeping it as low-key as possible for now. With the Mavericks in playoff contention, it wasn’t an ideal time to be asking for a move. Nothing mattered to me but being with my brother, though, so I was willing to ask, bargain, or even beg if it got me back home to him.

“Hey, Evelyn,” I said, my heart racing. “What’s up?”

“First things first—how’s Andy?”

She was a no-nonsense woman in her midforties with a reputation as a hard-ass. And when she was working on behalf of her clients, she was one. But Evelyn also had a big heart. She always remembered the names of my family members and remembered to ask about them. She always sent thoughtful gifts to mark my career milestones. Compared to some of my teammates, who couldn’t always get calls to their agents returned, I was fortunate.

“He’s okay,” I said, sitting down on the brown leather chair in the corner of my bedroom. “This round of chemo is making him really sick, but the doctors said that would happen. I’m waiting on my sister-in-law to call me back when we can talk alone, so I can find out if he’s telling me everything or not.”

She hummed with concern. “You think he’s not telling you everything?”

“I don’t know. He’s so worried about me staying focused on hockey and not worrying about him, I wouldn’t put it past him to put on a strong front.”

“I hope not.”

I sighed heavily. “Me too. This is already a shit-covered sundae covered with shit sauce and shit sprinkles. I’m not sure I can take a giant turd on top.”

“I can always count on you to be eloquent,” Evelyn cracked.

“Just keeping it real.”

“And I like that about you,” she said. “You know I always keep it real, too. The prospects for a trade to Nashville aren’t looking great.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry. You know how hockey is. One injury could change everything out of nowhere. They know we’re interested, so now it’s going to be a waiting game.”

“Waiting takes time,” I said, my elbows on my knees. “And I don’t know that I have time.”

“They’re in playoff contention, too, and they don’t want to make any big changes right now.”

I rubbed my forehead, wishing I had the freedom to move just because I wanted to. Being locked up in a contract wasn’t everything people thought it was.

“I’ll take a pay cut,” I told my agent. “I don’t care which line I play on. Just get me there, Evelyn. Please.”

“I’ll do my best. I promise you that.”

I stood up, stress pushing on my chest like a weight.

“I know you will,” I said. “Just let me know if anything develops. Anything at all.”

“Can we practice fighting?” a kid named Trevor asked me as we waited for everyone to get on the ice for youth practice that evening.

When I skated onto the ice for a game, I had to be focused. Even though I was just here to help coach these kids tonight, I’d still felt lighter as soon as I’d skated onto the ice. It was embedded in me; the ice was a safe place.


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