Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
“Not quite.” I smile. “You look great. I’m digging the shorter hair.”
She smooths a hand over her blonde bob. “Really? Dean says it makes me look like a pixie.”
“So? Pixies are hot. Did you guys take the train in from New York?”
“Yeah. We were both free tonight and decided, what the hell. Might as well support the boys.”
“Good call.” I wander over to the massive window overlooking the rink. The players are warming up at the moment. I search the ice for Garrett’s and Logan’s jersey numbers. I spot Logan first. Grace’s eyes are glued on him too, as she comes up beside me.
“How’s he doing this season?” I ask. “I haven’t studied his stats line too closely.”
“He’s doing well. Not as well as he’d like to be doing, but he got two assists in the game against Philly. Boston has some pretty amazing defensemen already, so John’s not seeing as much ice time as he wants.” Grace sounds unhappy. I’m not sure if it’s on Logan’s behalf, or if there’s more to it.
“Uh oh, is he taking it out on you?” Allie demands. Evidently she glimpsed that same flicker of discouragement in Grace’s eyes.
“No, not at all. But he’s just a bit on edge. And I’m busy at the radio station, so our schedules often conflict.” She shrugs before offering a halfhearted smile. “Every relationship has its speed bumps in the road. We’ll be fine.”
“True,” Allie agrees. “But if you need me to knock some sense into him, let me know. I’ll get my boyfriend to beat him up.”
“Wait,” Dean balks, channeling Mike Hollis. “I’m your boyfriend.”
I snicker.
Dean sets his jaw. “I’d never beat up Logan for you, Allie-Cat. He’s my BFF.”
“I thought Garrett was your BFF,” she taunts.
“I thought I was your BFF,” I whine.
He sighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re all my BFFs, okay?”
“Hey, where’s Hannah?” I ask, referring to Garrett’s girlfriend, Hannah Wells. The last time I was in the WAGs box, she was also present.
“Holy shit, did you not hear about Wellsy?” Dean demands.
“What about her?”
“You know how she’s been working with that famous producer? The one who’s also worked with Rihanna and Beyoncé and a bunch of other huge names?”
“Yeah, but I thought she wasn’t making her own music. Isn’t she writing songs now?”
“She is,” Allie confirms. “And one of her songs is going to be performed by—get this! Delilah Sparks! They’re in the recording studio as we speak, laying down the track. Hannah says it might actually be the single on Delilah’s next album.”
“Wow. That is impressive.” It’s really cool seeing what everyone’s been doing after college. Dean teaching and coaching. Allie on TV. Hannah rubbing elbows with superstar recording artists.
But…and maybe this is just the little boy in me…for me, watching Garrett and Logan skating in a packed TD Garden, representing our city, trumps everybody else’s careers.
All I ever wanted was to play professional hockey. It was my childhood dream. When I first told my parents that dream, I think Dad was pissed, because in his mind he’d been grooming me since birth to work for his company and eventually take it over. But when it turned out I was really damn good and had a more than realistic shot of making a shit ton of money as a pro hockey player, suddenly Dad was on board, encouraging my budding career.
So, yes, I wanted it. Badly. But then… I changed my mind. I realized that the NHL lifestyle is not for me. It’s too decadent, too destructive if you’re not careful, and I truly don’t know if I trust myself to be part of it.
Still, knowing I won’t be down on that ice one day doesn’t take away from the excitement of watching my friends skate. Everyone in the box is cheering their lungs out, and a wave of screams rocks the room when Garrett creates a rebound that lands on Logan’s stick. Logan snaps it up and scores his first goal of the season. Grace is on her feet, screaming herself hoarse, her face shining with pride.
I wonder if I’ll ever find a woman who looks at me like that. A woman who, when presented with “speed bumps” in our relationship, works with me to smooth them out instead of simply driving away. I might not want a girlfriend this very second, but I can’t deny that I hope to find something—no, someone—real in the future.
On the other hand, some relationships are total shit. I mean, look at Demi. She’s head over heels for her boyfriend, and he’s going around getting his dick wet at frat parties.
And I still haven’t told her the truth. I had all day to do it, for chrissake. We sat together in Abnormal Psych this morning. We spent an hour in the car together on the way up here. Yet every time I opened my mouth to tell her, I couldn’t get the words out.