Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
It takes effort to force my feet into movement. It feels like those last couple steps are a slow march to my impending doom.
My gaze slides over the interior, mentally taking note of the changes since Coach K packed up all his shit and left me high and dry. There are photos of this new guy with the NHL teams he played with. Framed articles, memorabilia, awards, along with a smattering of family photos.
One in particular catches my eye. It’s a glossy eight by ten of him with a dark-haired woman who looks to be around the same age and a petite younger girl wearing a glittery skating outfit. All three have their arms wrapped around each other as they beam at the camera. The girl holds up a gold medal that hangs from a thick ribbon around her neck.
He has a daughter who’s an ice skater?
Interesting.
My gaze slides back to him as I drop onto the vinyl chair.
Unlike with Coach K, there’s zero camaraderie. He’s just a guy who’s come in and blown my world to shit. I can’t help but wonder if he even realizes the catastrophic damage he’s inflicted with his mere presence.
Better yet, would he care?
Doubtful.
It only makes me dislike him more.
I just want this season over with and then…
I guess we’ll see where the chips fall.
With a frown, he drums his fingers against the metal desktop as he continues to stare. The uncomfortable silence that stretches between us is brutal.
Just when I begin to squirm, he clears his throat. “You know, when I took this job, I spent hours talking with Coach Kasminski. He gave me a rundown of all the guys. Even the new players he’d recruited the previous year. He knew exactly where everyone in this program fit in. And I respected that.”
Yup, that sounds exactly like Coach K, and it only makes me miss him more.
His serious gaze bores into mine. “You were a big part of those plans.”
Unsure what to say, I fold my arms across my chest and remain silent. Kind of sounds like he’s going to launch into one of those I couldn’t be more disappointed speeches. Quite frankly, after the rough season I’ve had, I don’t need it. All this guy has done since day one is fuck with my head.
“And I watched enough of your game film to know that he wasn’t wrong. You’re a talented defenseman. I can understand why Chicago wants you.”
I’m sorry…what?
The unexpected compliment has my brows snapping together in confusion.
“But I’m not seeing that translate onto the ice.”
Ah. There it is.
That’s more of what I was expecting.
“So tell me, what happened? Why aren’t you playing at the level we both know you’re capable of?”
That softly spoken question feels like someone pulling a plug until I’m deflating before his very eyes. I can only slump in my chair as that question circles viciously around in my brain before dragging a hand down my face. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
As difficult as it is to admit, even privately to myself, he’s not wrong. I’m not playing at the same level as last season. My game is off.
When I remain silent, lost in the chaotic whirl of my thoughts, he continues. “That’s something you need to figure out. Your performance needs to improve. You’re better than what you’re showing me out there and we both know it. The problem is that Chicago knows it too. I don’t need to tell you how important this season is in regard to your future. The last thing I want is to apply more pressure.”
Yeah, well…it’s a little too late for that.
Sometimes it feels like the entire fucking world is resting on my shoulders.
And him acknowledging it doesn’t make it better.
Only heavier.
More soul crushing.
“You’ve been distracted. And I get it. You’re young and this is college. It’s the last year before you play in the pros or find a job.”
A pit the size of Rhode Island takes up residence at the bottom of my belly. The thought of Chicago not signing me after graduation makes me gut sick.
“There’s school and hockey,” he continues. “That’s it. Eliminate the other distractions.”
When I open my mouth to argue, he holds up a hand and cuts me off.
“I don’t want to hear it. Bullshit will always creep in at the edges. You’re to the point where you need to decide what’s important and that’s what you focus on. If you’re out partying every weekend, knock it off. At least until you get your shit figured out.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble. There’s no point in arguing.
“And if you ever pull that BS on the ice again, I’ll bench you.” His steady gaze stays pinned to mine. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” I glance down at my hands as they twist together in my lap. “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”