Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
And now I’m a puddle of goo on the floor. In the short amount of time I’ve known her, Lacey Rose has not only managed to win me over completely, but she’s also cemented her place as one of my favorite people ever. It’s no wonder Kyler absolutely dotes on her. But I also know he is very particular about who is around his family, so before replying to Lacey, I look at him for a hint of how he feels about Lacey’s question. If it’s clear he’s not ready for me to meet the rest of his family yet, I’ll say no, even though it will hurt my heart to do so. But he gives me the slightest of nods, and in that moment, I know he’s not only agreeing to me going to the party, but he’s giving me one of the things most important to him—his trust.
“I’d love to come to your party, Lacey. Thank you for inviting me.”
“That’s okay. Wanna swap ice creams?”
I laugh as I switch bowls with her because the attention span of a five-year-old means the monumental conversation which has just occurred has completely passed her by, even though it will stay with me for quite some time.
twenty-four
Kyler
I glance at the scoreboard. We’re down by one goal with three minutes left. The fans are loud, cheering their hearts out and giving us the encouragement we need to get a goal scored. Losing isn’t an option, not this late in the season. In my opinion, every victory counts more now than it did at the beginning of the season. I want to see another banner hung. Hell, I want three hung at the start of next season, with the most important being the National Championship. Anything less, and I’ll feel like I failed my team. I skate to the end zone face-off spot with my stick on my knees. My opponent is there, waiting, eyeing me with fierce determination. He wants to get this puck to the other end of the ice, away from his goalie. He wants to control the game and be the one celebrating at center ice when the clock hits zero. I can’t let that happen. I briefly close my eyes and inhale in an attempt to center myself. As soon as I open my eyes, the puck drops, and I’m on the attack. My stick hits the ice first, and one of my teammates—I can’t recall who’s on my line right now—shoulders the other team out of the way. I’m grateful and move the puck toward the goalie. He slides, blocking my attempt with his leg pad. The puck bounces off, and Jayson Woodell, our right wing, is there to fire it back toward the goal. This is where we want the puck. It’s our hurry-up offense. There is no time to set up a play or dilly-dally. We need two goals, and time is running out.
The red light behind the goalie lights up and spins. Mike Dowling, our right defenseman, puts his hands in the air, and we go to him.
“Fucking perfect,” I tell him before we skate to our bench to high-five our teammates, and then we head toward Jude and slap our sticks against his kneepads. Faceoff to goal took twenty seconds. It’s time to rest, but not for long. I’ll get maybe twenty or thirty seconds before a line switch. When games are close like this, Coach tightens up his bench. He starts with at least four lines, sometimes five, but right now, he’ll finish the game with two-and-a-half. This is what we condition for all year, the stamina we need when the game is on the line. But honestly, I’m exhausted. My side hurts, and I think I have a broken rib. Coach doesn’t know because he’d kick me off the team if he knew I was fighting, especially for the money. I’m breaking multiple rules, and I hate myself for it. And part of me hates my mom for putting me in this position, but there isn’t anything I can do. Not until I’m drafted and can afford to care for my family.
I squirt water into my mouth and hear Thea and Millie behind me. I told them not to sit there, but they didn’t listen. While a lot of people want to be close to us during the game, we stink. We sweat so much our gear reeks, and the smell never goes away, and as much as someone would like to think the odor stays with us, it doesn’t. It wafts, and the last thing I want is my girlfriend to singe her nose with my stench. I don’t even care if she’s used to it because of her brother. It’s different when it’s your boyfriend.
Coach tells me to get back out there. I jump over the board and skate as fast as possible to the puck. I’m a man on a mission, and the other team tries to stop me. The thing is, I’m fast, strong, and only care about putting another goal up on the scoreboard.