Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“I’m used to it.”
“I don’t think I could ever adapt to freezing my ass off. I prefer sunshine and margaritas by the pool.”
“That’s because you grew up in California. If you were raised in Philly, you would be used to the cold.”
“I’ve lived in Philly for the last three winters. I doubt I will ever get used to it.”
“You got your early acceptance letter to UC Berkeley. You’ll be back to warmer climates in no time.”
She frowns. “I’m gonna miss you next year.”
My sadness mirrors hers. “I’ll miss you, too, Tay. But we have to grow up and become adults.”
“I am an adult,” she says. “But not like a real adult. I just look like one.”
I chuckle at her silliness. “I don’t want things to change.”
“Me either.” She pats my arm and nods in the direction of the players skating onto the ice. “Maybe you’ll end up with Preston in whatever city selects him.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I smile at the thought of spending the rest of my life with Preston.
Even though it hasn’t been that long, I have a gut feeling about Preston and me. We’re going to make it. I just know it.
“You could be a hockey wife.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “That would be fun.”
“I can’t follow him around from city to city. If you rely on a man for everything, you won’t have anything if he walks away. I’m not saying Preston will leave me, but anything can happen. I have to at least get my foot in the door at a sports management agency or do something sports related. Otherwise, my four years of college will be a complete waste.”
“You have a very hunky admirer waiting for you to notice him.” Taylor points at the glass.
A very shocked Preston stands on the ice, his gloved hand pressed to the Plexiglas, lips parted. I wave, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. He tilts his head to the side gesturing for me to meet him where the players exit the ice.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Taylor.
Preston waits for me, the door propped open, dressed in full gear. He pulls out his mouth guard and says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying home and hanging out with Taylor.”
“I am with Taylor. Just not at home.”
“I can’t believe you drove all the way up here. It’s a long ride to only stay the night.”
“I wanted to give you a good-luck kiss.” I lean into him, pressing my chest to his, and take his bottom lip into my mouth.
He parts my lips with his tongue, palming the back of my head with his glove.
“Young lady, what are you doing here?” My dad’s voice pulls me from my Preston-induced coma.
Preston straightens when he sees my dad and says, “Coach. I was just—”
“You’re just practicing, Parker. Get your ass back out there and stop kissing my daughter.”
“You got it, Coach.” He winks at me, and then he skates off.
“Hey, Dad.” I give him a sheepish wave hoping he doesn’t yell at me. “I thought it would be a nice surprise since this is Preston’s last year on the team and your first year as head coach. Plus, Boston isn’t super far.”
“You should be home studying or working on your ball handling skills… not chasing after boys.”
I suck in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m not chasing after Preston. I want to be supportive. I’m here for you, too. Not just for Preston.”
He smiles. “Okay, well, go take your seat and stop distracting my players. Parker needs to stay focused. This is a big game for us.”
“I know.” I pat him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
When I turn around, I lock eyes with Kellan Lehane. Fear floods my veins, adrenaline rushing through my body. He mouths something to me I can’t make out, and I’m not sure I want to know what disgusting things he said.
Seeing him fuels my rage making me wish Preston would rearrange his face. If only I could get his attention. Because I want nothing more than to see this asshole hurt the way I have for so many years.
Chapter Twenty-Three
PRESTON
Lining my stick up with Kellan Lehane’s, I take away his shot forcing a fight for the puck. He can either pass it, and hopefully fuck it up, or let me take it from him. I’m the best defenseman in Division I hockey. He knows it. This puck is mine.
I nudge him with my left elbow, pushing him into the boards as he attempts to maintain possession. “I had her first,” he says, throwing me off my game. “Bex Bryant.”
I stagger back at the mention of her name giving us some distance.
His eyes lock onto mine for a split second. “You heard me, Parker.”
I elbow him in the side. “Fuck off.”