Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“So how does it feel to wear different colors?” one of them asks me, and I just look at him with a smile.
“It feels the same,” I tell him. “The Stingers are a great organization, and I’m happy to be part of the team,” I answer, taking a sip of water.
“Is it true that you took a pay cut just to get out of Arizona?” a female reporter I’ve never seen before asks me.
“Like I said, the Stingers are a great organization, and I’m lucky to be here.” I smirk at her while she just almost glares at me.
I answer a couple of more question till Coach tells them everyone out. I grab my things and finally head to the shower. I’m one of the last ones on the bus, wearing a beanie hat on my head. Olivier comes over and hands me my phone, and I nod at him.
“Nothing to report,” he says. I look down to check my messages and see that Sarah messaged me.
He was really tired tonight and went to bed as soon as we got home. He wanted to sleep in your bed for when you come home. He has lots of stories to tell you.
She sends me a picture of Jack sleeping in my big king-size bed, pillows all around him, wearing Paw Patrol pjs with one foot on top of the blanket and one under.
When I get in after two a.m., I dump my bag at the door and walk upstairs quietly. I get into bed with him, trying not to wake him, but he wakes anyway.
“Daddy,” he says quietly, and I pull him to my chest, wrapping my arms around him.
“I’m home.” I kiss his head, feeling his little whiskers. “Sleep,” I tell him, and soon, his soft snores fill the room, and I follow him.
I’m at the stove wearing my shorts the next morning. Sarah just left for the day and will be back tomorrow afternoon when we have a game. Jack sits at the island coloring another picture; this time for Mallory.
He told me all about his trip to the hospital and how he didn’t cry.
I place his sunny-side up eggs on the plate with two slices of toast cut into strips so he can dip it.
“Here you go.” I smile at him and place two eggs on my own plate, sitting down next to him.
“We need to make a toast,” he says, grabbing a piece of toast and holding it up in front of him. “To me getting better,” he says, and I grab my toast and hold it up as he taps his piece on mine, then dips it in his egg yolk. I shake my head.
“Where did you learn that?”
“Dr. Denise,” he tells me while he chews. “We did it with french fries.”
“Did you?” I laugh, and he says we should do it again. And again and again until nothing is left on his plate.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask him.
“Can we go to the park?” he asks, and I look down at him. He used to love the park. He would beg to go there until the bruising got so bad we said no more. “I’ll be careful,” he says, and I nod my head.
“Yeah, why don’t we walk around the neighborhood and see where there is one?”
“Yeah.” He celebrates, throwing his hands up in the air.
I place the dishes in the sink, and my phone rings, showing me it’s Chantal.
“Hello,” I say.
“I can’t believe you,” she says, and I look over at Jack. Putting my hand on the microphone, I tell Jack to go upstairs and get dressed.
“What can I help you with?”
“I just got served divorce papers,” she says loudly, “at the fucking gym. In front of everybody.” I understand now why she’s pissed. She wants everyone to think she’s got everything going on for her. “Do you know how embarrassed I was?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” I smile. “Jack’s doing okay, thanks for asking.”
“Ugh,” she says, “I know he’s fine or you would have called and guilt-tripped me into coming and seeing him.”
I shake my head. “You’re unreal,” I tell her. “You never have to see him again. I’ll add that to the divorce decree.”
“I want the house,” she says, “and everything inside it.”
“Take it,” I say to her. If it will get me Jack without her, she can have it.
“I also want alimony. You got me used to a lifestyle, and it shouldn’t change just because we aren’t together,” she huffs.
Now, I really laugh. “You’re right; your life shouldn’t change just because we are getting divorced or because your son is sick.”
“Oh, please,” she says, and I imagine her rolling her eyes. “I wanted us to do this peacefully.”
“I’ll have my lawyer contact yours.”
“I don’t have a lawyer,” she says.