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)
Frowning, Tallulah stayed quiet. She didn’t have to ask him why out loud for him to know she was wondering why.
After a drawn-out sigh, he continued. “I don’t want to be one of those veteran workhorses out on the ice being held together by tape. I used to pity those players. On their last legs, battling nine different injuries, getting shots to numb this or that. Once I go down that road, I’ll never be able to turn off. Once my body knows there are remedies for everything, it’ll start falling apart.”
“Wow.”
“Wow?”
She slid her thumb up his spine and he hissed. “I’m not a doctor, but I’m relatively sure that’s not how medicine works. Or the human body. Like, I don’t think the various parts of our bodies are conspiring against us.”
“Of course not, you’re twenty-six.”
Tallulah rolled her eyes. “Stop acting like being thirty-seven makes you the crypt keeper. I’m going to tug your shorts down a couple inches, okay?” He grunted. Flexed. “Can I let you in on a secret? Thirty-five and up is the golden age for men.” She tucked her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and shimmied them down, revealing twin dimples at the very base of his spine . . . and the breathtaking top swell of his butt. Just the very beginning of it, only the shadow of his crack appearing, but it was enough to make her wonder if the part of her brain that made good decisions had been severely compromised. Why was she subjecting herself to this flesh fest when she couldn’t be the one to really enjoy it? “As I was saying, thirty-five is prime time. Women are looking for men in your age bracket, because you’re done douching it up. Maturity is appealing.”
“I thought we were talking about my age in terms of hockey.” He looked back at her over his shoulder, eyebrow up. “Sort of took a left turn there, didn’t you?”
Whoops. Be a little more obvious that you’re objectifying him.
Mentally floundering, she pushed her thumbs into the newly exposed plane of his back and he turned around in a flash, groaning and clutching at the counter. “Son of a bitch.”
“Back to hockey,” Tallulah said briskly. “Is that really the only reason you’re not telling the team about your injury? You’re afraid treating it will have a domino effect?”
“I know it will. And . . . yeah. That’s the only reason.”
“You hedged.”
“I didn’t hedge.”
“I know a hedge when I hear one.”
Another long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I . . . refuse to be seen as weak. I’m not supposed to have weaknesses. And it had to be a fucking back injury, too? I might as well bring a cane out onto the ice, instead of a stick.”
“Oh my gosh, Burgess. Anyone can have a back injury.”
“It’s a signal to everyone that I’m on borrowed time. It’s blood in the water. You would understand more if you’d played professional sports for a decade and a half, like I have. It’s cutthroat and unforgiving and . . . image is important.”
She considered his words. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I don’t fully understand the mentality of athletes, specifically hockey players. But I know if you don’t treat this injury, it’s going to get worse. That I know.” She slid her flat palms up his back and went to work on his shoulders, sort of absently, forgetting for the moment that his injury wasn’t up there. “You have a life to live outside of hockey. You’ll need your back for that.”
“Do I have a life outside of hockey? I’m not so sure.” His sides expanded and relaxed. “At one time, I did. I was a husband and a dad. I thought I was doing everything I was supposed to do. Providing. Showing up at birthday parties. But there’s a missing ingredient. Whatever it is, I don’t have it.”
“I disagree. I’m watching the way you’re growing and changing with Lissa. Maybe you just didn’t have it mastered back then. And who does? I’m not even a parent and I know being one is a learning process.”
“Hockey is safe. I know hockey.”
“Maybe it’s okay to feel unsafe,” she said quietly, internalizing the sentiment as she went along, because it didn’t only apply to him, did it? “Maybe it’s okay for the both of us to start reaching for . . . more.”
Burgess stayed quiet, though he tilted his head right so she could stroke up the side of his tense neck, his sides dipping and expanding faster than before.
Hers were doing the same.
In fact, she was grinding her back teeth to allay the impulse to press her breasts to his hard back. Imagine your bare skin against his muscle. Slipping and sliding—
No. Don’t imagine that.
She needed to stay the course. This conversation was about a lot more than she’d anticipated. There was pain and insecurity lurking inside this Hercules of a man . . . and he’d been shouldering it alone. Hiding it from everyone. It wasn’t a small thing that he’d chosen to open up to her, and she couldn’t help but feel privileged.