Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I look to my left at my core group…Bishop, Erik, and Dax. Their heads swing my way and we all sort of have a silent moment of agreement that we’re stepping up to the plate for Tacker whether he likes it or not.
“I’m moving Rafe up to first-line center,” Coach says and this isn’t a surprise. He took Tacker’s position when he was suspended for ten games for trying to kill Lars Nilsson back in November and he did a good job of it. Rafe Simmons is one of those guys that plays better when he has something to prove.
“Are there any questions?” Coach asks but none are forthcoming. He nods and steps away from the podium, crumpling up the piece of paper he’d been reading from. “All right…get changed and hit the ice. We start drills in twenty minutes.”
Chapter 28
Pepper
I stare at my iPad so hard that the white screen starts to flash and go wavy. I’ve been trying to put something—anything—down for over an hour and I am absolutely blank.
I don’t believe in writer’s block. As long as I have the idea, the words always come. I’m not a big plotter but I always have a rough idea of what the story will be about, most particularly the moral because that’s the crux of any children’s book.
Princess has wandered off without telling her parents where she went. She has a big adventure meeting new neighbors around the pond while her parents are sick with fear. She runs into dangers—a crafty old fox for one—and she starts to get homesick.
Yeah…the story is completely there but I can’t move it from my head to the surface of the iPad. I tap my digital pencil against my temple, hoping to jar something loose.
And…nothing.
Blowing out a huge gust of frustration, I set the pencil down and lean back in my office chair. I converted one of the upstairs bedrooms that look out over my backyard into an office. I set my drafting board in the middle of the room but put my regular desk right up against the window so I could look out over my little backyard sanctuary. If Legend thinks my front yard is “busy” with color, my backyard simply overwhelms. But I love it and it brings me happiness. It also normally sparks my creativity by appealing to the artist in me but I’m getting nothing today.
I’m worried sick about Legend because he’s worried sick about Tacker. He’d managed to make a quick call to me after the accident happened. Legend is the epitome of strength under duress. He’s proven that time and time again over the last two months and yet he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice when he told me that Tacker intentionally drove his truck into a concrete wall.
My heart was sick and my stomach pitched as well. The extent of his despair has clearly been underestimated by all, and I know more than anything, Legend is feeling guilt for not seeing it.
I couldn’t tell him that, though, because the phone call was short and it wouldn’t have made an impact. I tried to give him my thoughts when he came home last night, but he wasn’t interested in talking. He was frustrated that he was turned away at the hospital and was grumpy to say the least. I’ve come to know enough about Legend as far as when to push and when to let him be.
Last night his only interest was getting in bed and going to sleep. He did this only after pulling me into his body tight and practically smothering me as he drifted off to sleep. His embrace loosened but I didn’t move away from him, making sure even in slumber he knew I was by his side.
This morning he got up early and asked if I could watch Charlie until Lucy arrived at 8:00 a.m. He wanted to get in an early workout before practice.
I kissed him tenderly at the door and he pressed his palm against my cheek for a moment while we stared at each other. I got a small smile from him and then he was gone.
Charlie and I hung until Lucy arrived. Lucy and I shared a cup of coffee while I helped her fold a pile of fresh out of the drier burp rags then I came home so I could get some work done.
That was almost two hours ago and the only productive thing I’ve done so far was take a shower and brush my teeth.
Maybe I need to just step away and do normal stuff.
I head downstairs and unload the dishwasher. I wipe the counters down even though they don’t need it. I just vacuumed yesterday and dusted the day before that, so my house is pretty tidy.
I consider doing a load of laundry but immediately push that thought aside as I just did it on the day I dusted.