Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I look over my shoulder and see him standing there, leaning against his truck. He’s wearing another pair of black joggers with a hooded sweater this time. A baseball hat turned backward; he has stubble on his jaw, but all I can really focus on is him holding out his hands to the side with a huge-ass smile on his face as the girls run toward him. “Who’s ready to skate?”
I walk down the stairs with the girls’ bags in my hand, making my way to them. The sleeves from my sweater fall from my elbow to over my wrist. “Let me help.” Christopher walks over to me, grabbing the bags from my hand. “Open the trunk, will you, so I can put the stuff I bought in?”
“Stuff you bought?” I ask, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing much,” he says, opening my trunk and then going to his and coming back with two small hockey bags. “Just like, chest protectors and elbow pads. Some shin pads, just a little bit of everything,” he mumbles as he puts the bags in the trunk. The girls are already loaded in the back of the SUV.
“I didn’t know you were going to be here this morning.” I take a deep breath. “I would have made you coffee.”
“We can get coffee after,” he suggests, avoiding looking at me. “We should get going. We have to check them in. I filled out their registration papers, but things are missing.”
“You filled out registration papers?” If someone had told me three months ago, or even last week, that Christopher Stone would be filling out kids’ registration forms, I would have bet money against that person, knowing it would be a sure bet.
“Yeah, I don’t know their medical history and all that,” he states, walking around the SUV and opening the door. “Did you want me to drive?”
“Um, no,” I say as I walk to the SUV and pull open the driver’s side door in time to see him turn in his seat and share his excitement with the girls.
“Are we all buckled in?” I look in the rearview mirror at the girls, who are both smiling so big it feels like it’s Christmas morning. I buckle myself in before I pull out and make the mistake of looking over at Christopher. “How long were you out there waiting?”
“About fifteen minutes,” he answers as if it’s nothing, and all I can do is pick my jaw up off the floor. I don’t say another word to him because the kids ask him questions about if he’ll be on the ice. What happens if they fall? Is he going to tie their skates?
We pull into the parking lot, and it looks like almost all the spots are taken. He’s out of the car before I even turn it off, opening the back door and getting the kids. I join them in the back of the SUV, where Christopher hands me a manila folder. “The papers are in there,” he tells me as he puts both bags over his one shoulder, then grabbing their bag with skates.
He presses the button to close the trunk before turning and walking toward the doors. The girls walk on each side of him, and I follow them. I take out my phone and snap a picture of it.
When we walk in, I’m a little taken aback by all the parents there. I look around quickly to see if there are any faces I recognize, breathing a sigh of relief when there are none. “Hi,” Christopher says to the guy sitting behind a brown table. “My name is Christopher.”
“Yes, you called about your girls,” he says, and my eyes go wide. I immediately look down at the girls to see if they caught that, but they are much too interested in getting on the ice.
“This is Rain, and this is Luna.” He smiles down at them. “That’s Mom.” He points over at me. “Dakota. She has the forms that need to be filled out.”
“Perfect, you can go in there, and they will hand you a jersey for each girl. I got the payment already, so you’re good to go,” he says, pointing at the hallway we went in the last time.
“You got this?” Christopher says to me, motioning to the guy with his head, and all I can do is nod.
“Let’s go, girls,” he urges them, and they don’t even turn around to say goodbye to me. I walk over to the desk, open the folder, and see that he filled out all their things with their names and birthdays. I go through the medical side of it and check no for everything before handing it to the man.
“Thank you.” I smile at him, turning and seeing all the parents walking into the rink through the two brown doors. The cold hits you as soon as you step foot into the rink. I walk up the two steps to sit on the bleachers, looking at the side. I see a couple of the kids lining up at the door when a guy walks out wearing a black tracksuit and helmet. The kids move away to give him a chance to open the door before they get on the ice.