Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“No, I was early.”
“How’s it going?” Kit takes a menu and opens it.
“Fine. I thought we’d finish with your childhood today and also cover college.”
When I look up from my notebook, Kit’s giving me a crooked smile.
“I meant how are you, Molly? How’s your day going?”
My heart does the irregular pounding thing again, and this time I’m pretty sure it’s because of the way his deep voice sounds saying my name.
“It’s good. Fine. I’m good. I just finished a long staff meeting.”
“I’m guessing your staff meetings are a little different than mine,” he says, sounding amused.
I’m trying to think of a witty comeback, but I’ve got nothing. Small talk has always been hard for me, probably because I have so little to chit chat about.
I work, sleep, eat and spend time with Gram and Mr. Darcy. My back and forth efforts at conversation with a pro athlete would be laughable.
“Hey guys, I’m Serena and I’ll be your server today.” A tall, pretty blond sets rolled napkins full of silverware on our table and then glances between us, doing a double take at Kit.
“You’re that hockey player,” she says, breaking out in a smile. “Kit, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Her eyes light up. “One of my sorority sisters used to date you.”
“Oh, who’s that?” he asks.
“Lane Hinton.”
Kit shakes his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Serena shakes her head and laughs. “She was probably exaggerating; I wouldn’t be surprised. But I know she and some friends would hang out with you and some of the other Blaze players at that bar…I think it was called The War Room?”
“Oh, yeah.” Kit nods. “I haven’t been to that place in a few years.”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen Lane since we graduated four years ago.” Serena flashes another smile at him. “But anyway, what can I get you to drink?”
“Water, please.”
After writing down his order, Serena looks towards me expectantly, no longer glowing like she did when she was looking at Kit.
“Iced tea, please,” I say.
“You got it.”
She turns to leave and I give Kit a pointed look across the table. “Is it always like that?”
“Like what?”
“Do all women get starry-eyed when they see you?”
He laughs. “It’s not me they get starry-eyed over. It’s because I play hockey.”
I’m pretty sure it’s not just because he plays hockey, but since it’s not relevant to my story, I drop it, instead picking up my pen to signify it’s time to start the interview.
“I’d like to ask two final questions about your brother’s illness, if that’s okay,” I say.
Kit nods. We had a brief text exchange when we set up this interview, and he apologized for his reaction to the question about his brother in the first interview, and I told him again that I should have prepared him better. Still, this feels like walking on eggshells after what happened yesterday.
“Anything you want to ask is fine,” he assures me.
Has anyone ever called you a gentleman Viking?
I silently admonish myself for even thinking of that question. I’ve interviewed senators, renowned scientists, and even an astronaut. None of them have rattled me—I stay focused on the subject at hand. I’ll do the same with Kit.
“How do you think your brother’s illness affected you?” I ask him.
“It gave me a deeper appreciation for my family.” Kit unwraps the napkin from around a set of cutlery and sets the fork and spoon on top of the napkin. “It also made me an advocate for increasing public funding into research and treatments for cancer and other diseases.”
I want to probe deeper. Kit is telling me how his brother’s illness is affecting him today, but I want to know how it felt to the little boy he was. I sense that’s a raw nerve, though, and instinct tells me not to push it.
“Is it painful to relive those memories?” I ask gently.
He nods. “Yeah, it is. It affected so many things in our family. I wouldn’t understand it if I hadn’t gone through it. There was a Christmas when Mom and Lance were at the hospital, and the rest of us were home. The month between Thanksgiving and Christmas was always a crazy busy time for Dad at the store.”
Serena returns with our drinks and asks for our order. Both of us order the special—a turkey club and chips—because we haven’t even looked over our menus.
I grab the little basket filled with sweetener packets and take out some sugar, tearing it open and pouring it into my tea, then stirring it in with my spoon.
“So Dad had been working his busiest month of the year at the store,” Kit continues. “Lance was really sick. Mom told us not to come to the hospital for Christmas, though, because Lance was in isolation to protect him from germs. And when Christmas morning came, Sara and I went downstairs and the stockings my mom always filled…they were empty. There were a bunch of sacks from the store with sporting equipment for us. That was what Dad did for gifts, because he didn’t have time to shop. He hadn’t even wrapped them.” Kit’s eyes swirl with emotion, and he looks down at the table, toying with the corner of his napkin. “And the three of us looked at each other…” He takes a long pause, not looking up. “Dad just started crying. Then Sara and I started crying, too. I think for Dad, it was just…everything. The worry about Lance, the stress from balancing it all, and feeling like he’d disappointed us on Christmas. It was hard.”