Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“That’s the plan.”
“Don’t worry. You’re going to be training with some of the best in the biz. This year, you’ll learn more than ever.”
“Awesome,” I say softly as she checks her phone.
“Did my assistant send you over your itinerary for the week?”
“Yes. I have it all loaded in my phone.” Jesus, my hands are shaking as I raise my phone. I use my other hand to hold it still as I meet her gaze. Either she doesn’t see my shaking hands, or she doesn’t care.
Because Shelli’s face only shows a bright smile. “Great!”
Together, we continue through the compound, and I meet all the people I will be corresponding with daily. I am basically Shelli’s shadow for the season. I will live, breathe, and eat hockey. When I am not training under her, I will be training with coaches and staff to make sure I will be able to provide our hockey team with the same perfection that Shelli does. I’m unsure how the deal for moving the Assassins’ farm team to Tennessee came about, or even how my peepaw got involved, but he is excited and so is Shelli. I would be too…if only I weren’t so overwhelmed by my feelings of concern. I aim to make this a success—and to make my peepaw proud.
It’s the least I can do when he fought tooth and nail to get my sisters and me back into his life and safe from the shitshow my mother had gotten us involved in.
“So, Mr. Davenport said you’d drive back and forth to Knoxville daily?” Shelli asks her question with a look, and I nod grudgingly. “That’s a long freaking drive in the morning.”
“It is,” I agree. “But our home is forty minutes outside Knoxville, so it’s only two hours.”
“Austen, that’s insane. I have a place you can stay—for free.”
I wave her off quickly, resisting the urge to pop myself with my rubber band. Peepaw said not to inconvenience the Adlers, no matter what. “No, I couldn’t impose on your home with your child and all.”
Shelli grins. “You’re totally always welcome in my home, but actually, we have apartments for our players. I have an open one you can use.”
“Oh,” I say, and the pure joy of not having to drive all the damn time fills me. “If it’s cool with my peepaw, I’d love that.”
“I’ll make sure it is,” she says with a wink. “It’s fully furnished and ready to go. Mom leases two floors for incoming players and single ones. We want our boys to feel at home, and we don’t want them stressing.”
I quickly take notes and mentally search Knoxville for a similar building.
“We don’t want them staying in hotels, so we just do apartments, and it works great. A lot of teams are starting to do it.”
“Do the players pay for it?” I ask, making notes on my phone.
“They can after a month. We pay for their first month to see if they stay on the roster and/or to give them time to find a new place. Not that we’ll charge you a thing since we’re not paying you.”
We laugh together because she’s right, and I truly enjoy working for free.
Not.
That wasn’t kind.
Snap. Snap.
“But anyway, we have nine single players living up there now. And we’ll put three to each apartment for training camp,” she finishes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Wow, that is so amazing and kind of y’all.”
She nods. “My mom is very family based and wants everyone to feel at home.”
I eye her. “Are you that way?”
Shelli grins. “I am, and I’m not. For me, I don’t run the team with my heart. I run it to have a winning team. You don’t perform, you’re out. But Mom very much treats everyone like they’re her kids. She gives second chances and believes they’ll come around—or worse, she makes promises to people that I’m now having to deal with.” Her anger is visible, and when she looks at me, she shakes her head. “Sorry. I’m obviously still pissy from my meeting with my mom this morning.”
“Ugh, yeah,” I joke, and she laughs a laugh that holds absolutely no humor. “Can I know the situation?”
“For sure. Let’s go into my office. The rumor mill is real,” she says in annoyance as she enters her office.
I follow, shutting the door, a little confused by her change of mood. She falls back into her chair as I admire her office once again. She’s done it in a beautiful gray tone with purple accents. All the past logos of the Assassins are on the wall, along with photos of her family. My favorite is the one of her son as a newborn, in her husband’s gloves. As I sit down, she leans back and lets out a long huff. “I also need to let you know that I’m pregnant.”