Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Burgess landed in a kneel, and though he automatically struggled to get back up and keep going, because that’s what he’d been taught, he couldn’t. He couldn’t fucking get up.
A very specific sound filled his ears. That desolate rush of winter wind he’d loved as a kid, when he was the only one out on the frozen pond in the morning. Heavy, reverent silence, snow absorbing the slicing of his blades. He could feel the welcoming cold on his face.
Then there was warmth, because Tallulah’s hands were on his face, her smile right there in front of him. He’d pictured the pond from his youth a thousand times, the perfect solitude of those mornings being the part that appealed to him most. He’d never visualized anyone there with him. Never wanted to. But she was now included in his idea of heaven. She was heaven.
And she was watching this whole nightmare happen on television.
She was seeing this moment of weakness live—and that fucking burned.
Let the whole world witness this, except for her. That would have been fine.
Impossible, though.
Get the hell up.
“Burgess,” Sig shouted to his right, but he couldn’t even turn his head; the pain was so debilitating it tensed every muscle in his body, clenched his teeth together until he could taste blood. “Stay down, man. Don’t make it worse. The trainer is on the way.”
“No,” he ground out, trying and failing once again to get back on his skates.
Christ, it was so quiet in the arena, every eye on him.
Horrifyingly quiet. They all knew. They knew it was over for him.
He knew, too, didn’t he? That spreading pain beneath his collar that rose slowly and choked him left no room for doubt. This was the widow-maker. The career ender. His spine was being twisted in the hand of the devil, around and around, until black started to bleed into the edges of his vision, freezing sweat coating every inch of his body.
And he had no choice but to stop trying to stand up.
Humiliation stabbed into him from all sides. Denial. Anger. Resentment.
Tallulah’s concerned face appeared in his mind, her clear pity pissing him off all the more, his fist coming down and slamming into the ice while the trainer asked him questions he couldn’t process or acknowledge. Not while she remained, so young and free-spirited and optimistic, looking down at him, a broken heap. A man who was once someone great.
But could no longer be that for her.
As soon as she watched the injury happen on television, Tallulah started to move. She was still staying in Chloe’s apartment, but all her stuff remained at Burgess’s place, forcing her to go there in a blur and pack essentials even though she could barely focus. Could hardly summon the brain power to text Ashleigh and confirm Lissa would stay with her mother until Tallulah returned. Booking a flight to Pittsburgh when the tears wouldn’t stop forming in her eyes was not easy, but she did it, her hands shaking as she ordered an Uber and organized a flight on the way to the airport, the phone slipping out of her hands and into her lap several times. She didn’t stop to consider flying to be by his side might not be her place . . . yet. She just went.
Her heart demanded nearness to Burgess, and she obeyed blindly, dread breathing fire like a dragon in her chest.
When Tallulah reached the airport, she got through security as quickly as possible and jogged to the gate, since her flight was already boarding. And there, on every television screen she passed, was the moment Burgess went down. People grouped together, watching in silence, muttering things into their phones. This was Boston after all. This was his town. But seeing their obvious grief did nothing to comfort her. No. Only the opposite.
If they believed Burgess was done . . . did he believe that, as well?
Was it true?
If so . . . oh God, Burgess was going to be devastated.
Of course, he would.
He loved hockey more than anything in the world. The sport was interwoven with his identity. And he was spectacular at it. On some level, she’d foreseen more problems arising with his back injury, but this? So public and brutal and painful to watch. He didn’t deserve that.
The flight time was only ninety minutes, but it might as well have been five hours. Tallulah stared straight ahead the whole way, cobbling together a speech to deliver as soon as she reached . . . wherever he was. The hospital, the hotel, the arena. She’d already texted Chloe to find out from Sig where Burgess had been taken and hoped to have that information as soon as the plane landed. And she’d be ready. She’d wrap her arms around him and assure him that he wasn’t finished with hockey forever. If he wanted to keep playing, he’d go to rehab and come out stronger. On the flip side, if he needed to stop playing, so much life was waiting to be lived.