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)
Hope is supposed to be a good thing. But I was better off before I had it. I planned to be a bachelor for life. I wanted to spoil my nieces and nephews, travel the world after I retire from hockey, and stay close friends with my teammates.
Then Molly came along, bringing hope for the future that I never expected. It sounds cliché, but a switch got flipped—I understood why my married friends were happy to settle down. When you find the one, nothing else matters anymore.
I really thought she was the one for me, and that it was true what they say about things falling into place when it’s right.
Things fell apart instead, though. I want to tell Molly I’m sorry for the things I said in the heat of the moment, but for things to really work between us, I’d have to change in ways I don’t think I’m capable of.
With one last glance back at Anton and the camera crew, I head to the locker room. After a quick shower, I leave the arena and drive to my sister’s favorite boutique store to find her a birthday gift. The owner of the store always sets me up with something she’ll love.
Downtown traffic is crazy, and I have to park a couple blocks from the store. I shove my hands in the pockets of my coat as I walk, the chilly Chicago wind ruffling my hair.
A middle-aged woman and a little boy who looks around five are stopped on the sidewalk ahead of me, and she’s bending down to button his coat all the way up to his chin.
“Better?” she asks.
“Yeah!”
“I think we should go to that bakery you like and get a treat because you were so good while I was shopping,” she tells him, standing up and taking his hand. “How does that sound?”
“Yay!” The boy’s eyes shine with happiness. “Thanks, Mom. I want the giantest biggest cookie. Or cupcake!” He grins. “Oh! One of those cookies with frosting in between two cookies.”
“You can pick anything you want,” his Mom says as I walk closer to them. “Keep your hat on, Jack. It’s cold out here. And stay close to me; there are lots of people out here.”
“I will,” he promises.
I stop walking as they pass me, turning to watch them go. The mom is still holding her son’s hand, and he’s looking up at her like she’s the most amazing person in the whole world.
There’s a lump in my throat as I move closer to the building I’m in front of to get out of the flow of pedestrians. Something about seeing that mom with her son hits me hard.
There was a time I felt the same way about my mother as the little boy I just saw. It was so long ago, though.
I turn to face the building, trying to get ahold of myself. I fucking can’t, though. I’m overwhelmed with emotions. Sadness. Anger. Regret. So much regret.
My vision blurs as tears well in my eyes. I squeeze my eyes closed and a few spill over, leaving a trail down my cheek. It’s been a really long time since I cried, and now I’m doing it on Michigan Avenue as dozens of strangers file past.
“Fuck,” I mutter, wiping my sleeve over my eyes to dry them.
My shopping can wait. Sara’s birthday isn’t for a couple more weeks. Instead of going to the boutique, I turn around and walk back to my car, focused on breathing in and out so I can keep my cool.
It’s been so long. So damn long. Why are things boiling over for me today, all of a sudden? What’s different now?
Suddenly, it hits me with crystal clarity. Molly. Molly is what’s different now. I want to be with her, but I can’t treat her the way she deserves until I first treat myself the way I deserve.
Back in my car, I turn up the heat and rub my hands together, warming them. My heart pounds hard and fast as I take out my phone and pull up my sister’s phone number.
“Kit? Hey, what’s up?” my sister says.
“Hey Sara, I’m not sure if this is a good time, but can we meet up somewhere for coffee? I need to tell you something. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Molly
* * *
The scent of freshly baked bread catches my attention as I walk past a bakery on my walk home from the El Train after work. I look over at the brightly lit shop, admiring the display of loaves of bread, scones and cookies in the window.
Normally, it would make my stomach growl. But after the amount of chocolate cake I ate last night, nothing but the bread looks good to me.
I keep walking, though, because I know Gram will have dinner waiting for me.