Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Or technically post the hospital haranguing that immediately followed.
“Sorry we couldn’t make it. We had that birthday dinner for Arty’s teammate.”
Yes, because why wouldn’t attending some dude he’s probably only played with for a couple month’s birthday party not outweigh helping make good press for your only son who you know needs it.
“How was the event?”
“Bella had fun,” I candidly answer at the same time I drape the embroidered Dalvegan object over my shoulder.
“It was princesses and bouncy castles, Ig, of course she had fun.” Her happy chuckles ignite my own. “I meant how was it for you, Cap? And the boys?” A small sip of coffee is stolen between questions. “Were there a shit ton of fans? Good media coverage?”
There was media coverage.
Good is debatable.
Me being called a hockey hero is definitely better than the shit that happened with Page and his two waste of mouthguards not too long ago, so I’m trying to take the dub.
“Uh…some.” My shrug is as innocent as I can make it. “And I’ll get word about the former at pracky.” Leaving no opportunity for her to investigate further, I request, “Can you also give Joey-”
“Oh, Sleeping Beauty has a real name,” Mom impishly taunts only to instantly receive a glare.
“Can you give her my number?” I shove both hands into my Dalvegan Dragons hoodie pocket. “And youse guy’s numbers? And any other emergency numbers you think she might need?”
“Is that including or excluding 911?”
There’s no stopping my head from tilting sarcastically to one side.
“What?” She continues to good naturedly goad. “I just wanna make sure I do my due diligence when giving your new fake nanny-”
“Real. Nanny.”
“Fake nanny, Ig. If she were real and you weren’t busy trying to keep some weird secret about her to yourself, I would’ve been consulted on her hiring just like I’ve always been in the past.” She arrogantly has another sip of her coffee. “We both know I’m going to figure it out eventually. You could just save me the brain time and tell me what it is you’re clearly hiding about her.”
Surgical Supply Wholesaler CEO by day.
Sherlock fucking Holmes by night.
She not only made it practically impossible to sneak around – which growing up in Vlasta wasn’t something I needed help with – she made it impossible to fake an injury putting to use her impressive medical knowledge in the least convenient ways possible.
In spite of knowing I shouldn’t be involved in this puck drop with her, I go for it anyway. “Maybe I’m hiding her from you because you can be a little judgmental.”
“Or maybe you’re hiding her from me because you know whatever you’re hiding is that fucked up.”
Yup.
Should’ve never been the one to go head-to-head with her.
Her faceoff wins are unreal.
Not even sure The Rookie’s stats are this high.
“I know I’m now going to hide from you at pracky.”
“Mmmhmm,” Mom triumphantly hums and lifts her cup once more. “Love you, Ig.”
I grab my car keys off the nearby counter on a timid, “YA tebya lyublyu, Mom.”
And I do.
So much so that I’m gonna keep fighting for her to believe the nanny situation is settled for the time being.
Truth is…she needs less shit to worry about.
Not more.
She’s already put in her time as the captain of this family, working ridiculous hours around Father’s career and now mine. Moving us from Alaska to Wisconsin to chase his hockey dreams and then eventually keeping us there to keep mine alive. Giving up her friends, hobbies, and eventually hopes of traveling the world in order to let Father keep that fire inside him alive and give Bella the most amount of stability she possibly can.
Mom’s literally dedicated her life to this team we call our family.
It’s time for her to hang ‘em up and enjoy whatever it is she wants to do.
Even if that means having to lie a little about who’s now on our roster to make it possible.
Chapter 4
Joey
Honestly, I’m beginning to miss the days where I woke up to someone not ominously staring at me.
It’s just not how I prefer to get my heartrate up.
Especially when playing hopscotch – even at my age – is way more fun.
Pale blue eyes that are identical to the man who insisted on carrying all of my belongings to this room in one go – like some sort of pack mule – instantly light up when my gaze latches onto theirs. The white button-down blouse wearing woman extends the “Smile If You Love Hockey” coffee mug in my direction at the same time she scoots over even closer than she previously was. “Coffee?”
Okay.
Boundaries are a family needed lesson I see.
Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I rest my back against the dark gray cushioned headboard and politely accept the offering. “Thank you, Mrs. Alexeyev.”
“What gave me away?” She sweetly yet suspiciously interrogates. “You don’t think my son could be into older women?”