Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
When I get outside, I stop in my tracks when I see my dad opening the cab of the truck. My stomach drops out of my ass as I search for my mom, my buffer. But she’s nowhere to be seen.
Fuck.
Dad looks over at me. “Hey, bud.”
“Hey,” I say slowly as I come toward him, trying to act like this isn’t an issue. “Where’s Mom?”
“She had a meeting. I offered to bring everything.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, and then he looks at me, a grin pulling at the side of his lip.
“Where’s the rest of your shorts?”
I grin as I chuckle. “Didn’t know they were this short.”
“Sure,” he teases as we start to grab boxes. We make quick work of it, especially when some of the guys come out to help. I’m thankful since they’re talking to him and he isn’t talking to me. Everyone, of course, is gushing over my dad. He’s the best hockey player, in my opinion, and I think they all know that. He’s basically Tennessee’s Wayne Gretzky. It’s awesome having him as a dad, but even more depressing when I remember I couldn’t live up to his legacy. I start to unpack as he relives one of his game sixes from one of his Cup wins. He’s had a lot of them.
“My favorite was when the boys were like six, I think,” he says, glancing my way, and I smile. I don’t remember this Cup win, but the picture of him holding us and the Cup is in the living room of our home. “They woke up every day and did my routine with me. I used to eat a piece of lasagna with shrimp Alfredo and three pieces of garlic bread before my nap, and the boys ate the same thing, all of it, because I did. Owen could keep the food down, but Evan sometimes threw it up.”
The guys laugh as I nod. “It’s a lot of food for a six-year-old!” I say in my defense.
Dad laughs. “It is, but they were in it to win it with me. When we won, I told them it was because of them.”
A warm feeling fills me because he told us all the Cup wins were because of us. Mom says the same thing.
“That’s so cool,” Benny says, leaning on the door.
“I can’t wait. I want to play for the NHL so bad,” Philly Reilcango says.
“You can get there if you work for it. You guys have a hell of a coach this year.”
Everyone nods, and then Dad waves them off. “Okay, boys. Let me help my son. It was great meeting everyone.”
Some of the guys grumble, and I hope that will keep my dad talking, but no such luck. He actually shuts the door on them.
Yay.
Before he can say anything, I ask, “What’ve you got planned today?”
“Nothing really,” he says, opening a box. “We’re on baby watch, but I did say I would keep Zac while they had practice. Posey wore him on the ice the other day, and Boone freaked out.”
I laugh. “Is he really surprised? That’s so Posey.”
Dad nods. “For sure. That’s what I said. I think Shelli will be the same. Just like Mom.”
My dad loves my mom, more than anything in the world. They have the greatest love story, to the point that Shelli sent it in to Hallmark for a movie adaptation. That was a couple years ago, so I guess they weren’t impressed by my parents’ love, but we all are. It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t love themselves or see themselves as worthy. But my dad loved my mom enough for both of them. I used to think love like that didn’t exist anymore, but then Owen found Angie, and it was like a repeat of our parents.
I doubt that can happen a third time. Especially when no one even likes to talk about mental health, so why would anyone want to love me with my issues?
Wow, I’m being a bit dramatic.
I shake my head as I unpack the towels I need. “For sure,” I say to fill the silence as I scratch my chest.
“How’s the tattoo healing?”
I grin more to myself than at him. Owen, Shelli, Posey, Quinn, and I went to get matching “Adler” tattoos. Owen and I got ours across our chest, while Quinn went with his across his shoulder blades. Shelli got hers along her left wrist, and Posey did hers along her right wrist. I like how we ultimately all match, but we match closest with the sibling we grew up alongside. Since Quinn is a loser with no close sibling, we say he has his own back, which is why he got it back there.
“Yeah, super itches.”
“Think you’ll get some more?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, so we unpack in tension-filled silence. I know he wants to say something, probably yell at me or even shake me, but he doesn’t. We get my room done and unpacked with no discussion of anything of importance. When he asks about the meetings I had this morning, I use that to fill the silence.