Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“I think we were all dragging out there,” Jeff observes from beside me. He takes off the jersey he has on and tosses it in the big bin that is in the middle of the room, right beside the team logo on the carpet.
“Beginning of the season is always like this,” I say to Jeff as the locker room fills up with the guys who have come off the ice. Everyone sits down at their place as they get their energy back. “At least we don’t have a game tonight.” I put the Gatorade beside me before leaning down and untying my skates.
I’ve been playing hockey since before I can remember. I think there is a picture in my parents’ house of me on skates at a year old. I could barely walk but my father laced up my tiny skates and skated with me. I always knew I wanted to play hockey. I mean, coming from the family I came from, it was a given. My grandfather was a hockey god, to say the least. He literally still has records that no one has beaten. My father played hockey. My uncles and most of my cousins all play professional hockey, so it was no surprise that I wanted to do it also. I just did it a bit different from my cousins. I got drafted when I was eighteen. Not first like most of them, but it didn’t matter to me, because no matter what number I went, I was going to finish school before playing. It was something my father and I decided together when I was thirteen. I would be drafted and then get a degree in business. I played hockey in college where I recorded twenty-two goals and nineteen assists in thirty-six games. I was at the top of the standings. When I came back the second year, I dominated even more, with thirty-two goals and fifty-seven points in thirty-one games.
Needless to say, when I finally got my degree and graduated, I went straight to the NHL. Luckily for me, Carolina drafted me, so I didn’t have to move far since I went to school here. In March before I graduated, I signed an entry-level contract and finally suited up in April for the farm team. I scored two goals and one assist in that game and quickly was called up to play my very first NHL game. It took me three games to get my groove and I finally scored my first ever NHL goal. I still remember to this day how it felt, like I made the family proud. It was so hard growing up and walking in everyone else’s shadow, having to prove you belong there, and not that you were there because of the dynasty you grew up in. I slip on my slides and put my skates under the bench before fully undressing. I hear some conversation all around me, but now that I’m not on the ice, my mind wanders. It takes me right back to yesterday. Right back to seeing Sofia again.
The minute I got into the car with Helena, I told her we should check out other event planners. I knew we would never, ever use Sofia. Can you imagine? Even when I dropped Helena off at her place, she was still telling me how much she loved Sofia. I just needed to have my space to get everything in my head clear. News flash—it just made it worse. I swear it feels like the Pandora’s box that was Sofia and me magically opened, and now the only thing I could think of is her.
I walk out of practice wearing my track suit and my baseball hat backward. My brown hair under it is still wet from the shower, as I shake my protein shake cup. I unlock my car door before sliding in and starting it. I pull away from the parking area and call my father. We speak daily, sometimes twice a day. He answers me right away. “Hey,” he greets, and I hear he’s in his car also.
“Hey there,” I reply, smiling and then suddenly missing him. It’s strange the way time works. When I was a teenager, I couldn’t wait to be out from under their rules and now there is nothing that calms me down like talking to my father. “Whatcha doing?”
“Just left the rink,” he says, and I laugh. He played for many years in the NHL. He actually got traded to New York while he was in rehab. My uncle Matthew took a chance on him. He met my mother, Zoe, who is Matthew’s younger sister, when he was looking for a house.
“Who were you training with?” I ask as I make my way over to my house.
“Uncle Evan, Max, and Matthew,” he says, “Grandpa Cooper came also.” I smile thinking of my grandfather still lacing up. He may not have the speed he had before, but he’s got the plays all in his head. “What are you doing?”