Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Because losing Jenny was more complicated than anyone realized.
Jenny and I weren’t ever lovers — not in the traditional sense. She was my best friend, someone I laughed with and trusted. When we felt like it, we fooled around, but that was where we drew the line.
Until things got serious.
She got pregnant.
Marrying her was the easiest thing in the world. Nothing was complicated with us. We had an agreement, an understanding to raise our kid together and still live our lives the way we had been.
But somewhere along the way, I realized I loved her. Not in the passionate way love is portrayed in the movies, but in the comfortable, warm and reliable way. I came to care for her more than anyone else in the world.
And I never got the chance to tell her before she died.
Our goalie at that time was a senior veteran, a beast of a man who had a great career but was on his way out. His name was Sven, and he was trying to prepare me to fill his role.
I didn’t know how he did it.
I didn’t know how he found the patience for me, how he saw past the asshole exterior I knew I wore like a badge of honor.
But he did, and I would never be able to thank him and Coach enough for that.
I supposed getting Aleks in line was one way I could try.
“Listen, I know it can be frustrating when you feel like you’re outperforming your teammates. But instead of fighting them, work with them,” I chastised. “Teach them. Show them how to be better.”
“No, thanks. I’m not a fucking babysitter.”
“No, you’re clearly the child who needs babysitting,” I shot back. “Cool. Off,” I repeated, jabbing my finger into his chest. “When you’re ready to get serious about this practice and this team, you can come back on the ice.”
“Fuck you,” he said, standing. “I don’t need this shit.”
He stormed off toward the locker room, and I let out a heavy sigh before Coach walked over to join me. We watched Aleks disappear down the tunnel, and when I moved to go after him, Coach put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.
“Let him go,” he said. “Practice is almost over anyway. Let him get centered for tomorrow’s game.”
“He’s a cancer,” I said, turning to face McCabe. “And he’s bleeding into every inch of this team.”
“He’s our teammate,” Coach argued, leveling me with just one look. “I know he’s not the kind of teammate you prefer, but he’s still in Osprey blue. He’s still one of us. And you know damn well we wouldn’t have the record we do without him.”
That made me grind my teeth.
I hated that he was right.
Aleks had a bad rep around the National Hockey League and had since he joined as a rookie four years ago. When rumors surfaced over the summer that he might be traded to Tampa, I’d thought there was no way Coach would allow it. He ran a tight ship around here, and I was certain he wouldn’t let some bruiser mess that up.
But as much as he loved to find trouble on and off the ice, Suter was one of the best wingers I’d ever seen. He even had more goals and assists this season than even our star forward, Vince Tanev, which was almost impossible to believe.
The issue was his attitude.
He thought he was better than everyone else, that we were all a waste of space on the ice. He also had a fuse the size of a fucking ant, and any time he blew, we paid for it — like in last night’s game, when he ended up in the penalty box and Atlanta scored on us on a power play, leading to a loss.
“Be patient,” Coach said, releasing my shoulder.
“I have been,” I growled.
“Be more patient,” he said with a grin, and then he blew the whistle and called practice.
George of the Jungle
Chloe
Chef Patel and I had become fast friends in the five days I’d taken over as Ava’s nanny.
She was the kind of sassy I wished I could be, with a smart mouth and a quick reflex to put anyone who crossed her in their place. She pushed my flavor palette to new heights by introducing me to spices I’d never tasted in my life. And perhaps what I loved most was that I had a woman to talk to who wasn’t related to me.
Although, Chef Patel seemed to have the same disposition about men that my mom and grandmother did. When I asked her if she was married, she scoffed and waved her towel at me with a look that answered the question without words.
She’d helped me get acquainted with Will Perry’s mansion over the weekend, showing me around the property and making sure I had all the necessary codes. When Ava was with us, Chef Patel would talk to her like an adult — which I appreciated, because that was the same approach I liked to take with her. And when Ava was asleep or otherwise occupied, Chef Patel would whip up a new dish for me to try, all while telling me her fascinating stories about traveling to places like France, Spain, India, and Poland in all her culinary studies.