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)
“Now that was very bardownskies, Daddy,” Joeski compliments upon closing the gap between us.
“Appreesh.” Taking my eyes off Bella is done for a split second. “You know I don’t remember seeing ice skating under special skills on your résumé.”
Which I actually have seen now.
Getting crafty about someone on my legal team having lost it wasn’t nearly the same level of difficulty that explaining where her non-existent NDA vanished too. Turns out a basic “system virus” wiped data before that piece of information could be backed up doesn’t work when she reminds you there should be a copy in the email account you sent it from.
Yeah.
Nancy Drew had an answer for every. Excuse.
So, post a lot of skating in circles talks, we eventually just agreed to sit down with Derby Kim – my entertainment lawyer or pretty much everything lawyer – and craft a “new” version that we both read, signed, and kept copies of physically as well as digitally.
She put the physical copy for me in one of the many Alexeyev family binders.
We have our own little household library on the top shelf in the office she’s determined is for more than storing extra gear.
It’s meant to help keep us organized, schedules running smooth, and aid in back up just in case an episode were to randomly occur while she’s with us.
You know.
Other than the one that brought her to us.
“That’s because it’s not there,” she states to me, stare still focused on my daughter who randomly stops her tiny glides to clomp across the ice instead. “One of my foster dads would take the three of us to the rink for hours and spend a little too much time ‘guiding’ those of us with Vs.” There’s no stopping my gaze from momentarily shifting in her direction. “I uh…I actually subconsciously blocked out those memories for years. It wasn’t until I was fifteen or sixteen and saw a pair of ice skates in my foster sister’s closet that I started bawling and remembered what happened.”
“F-” her instant chastising scowl leads to me finishing awkwardly, “udge…”
“Episodes are weird like that. Sometimes the events are gone for a few hours. Sometimes it’s a week. Sometimes it’s months. Sometimes years. And…like the incident with whatever led to us being dropped off in the bathroom…sometimes it’s just gone forever.”
I do my best to lighten the dark mood I didn’t mean to glide us into. “Is that why ice skating isn’t on your special skills list? You had another episode and forgot how effing good you are?”
“No, it’s just not one of my special skills.” Our shared laughter is swiftly interrupted by Bella damn near falling down. “Or…one of hers, apparently.”
“Eh, she’s young.” Reaching across to lower Joey’s arm is thoughtlessly done. “She’s still gotta find her… khokkeynyye nogi.” I tap my own padded legs to indicate the area I’m referring to too. “And she will.”
My daughter begins her balancing act once more.
“And because of you,” the locking of my eyes with hers once more is thoughtlessly executed, “I just may be around to help with that.”
Having Joeski shoot me a bashful gaze accompanied by a small bite of her bottom lip leads to me doing the same.
Gentle glides that feel more like walking than skating to me allow for updates regarding the day’s events and pending schedule changes to come. We discuss minor media deets she swears she’ll write down when she gets back to her phone, laugh about pracky pranks, and quietly argue over what will and will not be served for the Thanksgiving meal I’ll most likely be late to. During the conversation, we track Bella’s movements as she plays with Hedgie’s son who’s close to her age, Blanc’s pre-teen daughter, and Snowman’s dad who swears he needs grandkids already. Around and around the rink we slowly go, mindlessly gravitating closer together, fingers repeatedly brushing, until they’re not.
Until our pinkies are hooked.
And then two fingers.
And then palms.
Unsure of exactly who initiated what, I forgo any attempt to figure it the fuck out.
Because it doesn’t matter.
What matters is how fucking soft her goddamn hand is.
The fact that her breath hitches when I hold it tighter.
Hearing her faintly hum when my thumb caresses the skin under its protection.
Possession.
Lookskies, I may not know who decided we should do this shit, but I know I won’t be the one to fucking stop it.
“Alexeyev,” calls the last voice I wanted to hear from today. “Two minutes. Now.”
How did I not see her being the one to stop this play from happening?
Maybe we should start calling her GM McCock Block instead of Hot Rockett?
“I’ll keep following Bella,” Joey informs at the same time she releases her grip, an action that drops a pound of pucks to the pit of my stomach. “Go to work, Cap.”
The nod I offer in acknowledgement is weak, yet it’s the skate over to where Hennington is waiting on the bench that’s even more pathetic.