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)
“You have to be if you’re calling me instead of just waiting for her to come home.”
Heading towards the sidewalk with my gear bag swung over my shoulder, I do my best to remain calm while explaining, “I haven’t heard back from her since yesterday. Texts are unanswered. Calls are going straight to voicemail. And she didn’t show up for work last night or this morning.”
“Huh,” is grunted into my ear, filled with obvious unease.
“Huh?!” Panic pushes its way into my tone. “What the fuck do you mean ‘huh’?!”
“Missing work isn’t like her…”
“Now, we’re on the same teamskies.”
“Short of landing in the hospital, which actually did happen once, I can’t think of anything that would keep her from being there for the child in her care. Joey would rather give up a few extra hours to live to properly say goodbye than just abandon a little person she’s spent months nurturing.”
Additional guilt regarding the accusations I slapshot at her face shifts the aching from my chest to my bones.
I knew I was out of line then and took the stupid fucking shot anyway.
I deserve this time in the box.
I deserve this time stuck in the relationship locker room.
And once I know she’s alive and well and not tied up on a yacht by an Italian crime boss who wants to trade her life for mine, I’ll respectfully do my time.
“The only non-ER situation I can logically conclude – and I know she’s not there because I’m her EC and would’ve been contacted by now if she were incapable of answering – for her missing work is that she’s having an episode. Did anything traumatic or emotionally jarring happen recently? I mean I haven’t noticed any of the Santa red red flags that usually crop up before one, but I could’ve missed something.”
Reluctance to answer is accompanied by a decrease in my walking speed. “You mean…like…introing Joeski to her long, lost sibskie who offered her, her dream job that I then accused her of betraying us to take even though she never actually agreed to do anything other than look at an email?”
The long lull that precedes Berks actually speaking is ear-splitting. “Have you ever had a concussion?”
“More than one.”
“Oh, well, that explains how you could do something so fucking stupid.”
Shamefully hanging my head as I enter the building thoughtlessly occurs.
“I’ll find her,” Berks warmly proclaims prompting me to lift it back up. “My shift at the hospital just ended and I have a pretty good idea where she probably is since she always stays at the same place when she comes here for doc visits or a few off days between jobs. I’d bet the floating raindrop lamp you owe me that that’s exactly where she is. And if not? I’ll try one of our track my friends apps, which I recommend you download for possible future situations as well.”
“Wait…I owe you a lamp?”
“You do now.”
Not smirking is difficult.
“Think of it as a literal finder’s fee.”
“Shouldn’t you be willing to find her for free? She’s your best fucking bud.”
“For me, I am. For the boyfriend who decided to fuck around and find out, not so much. Your stupidity should cost you. I mean it does in the game, right?”
You know when I first met Berks, I wondered how two people so fucking different could be best friends but now, I’m starting to get it.
They’re basically the embodiment of my favorite cheat day treat.
Depending on the day, one has a bit of a kick while the other has a bit of crunch, yet together, they’re always a winning combination of a good time.
“Deal,” I agree upon my arrival outside the elevator.
“I’ll text you when I find her. Let you know the state of mind that she’s in. And if this really is an episode, I’ll start showing her some pictures and texts and see if I can help jump start her memory before reconnecting her to you. Tell me you’re more brains than brawns, though. Tell me you’ve saved some of that shit in a ‘just in case she forgets who I am’ folder too.”
“Konechno.”
“Gonna assume that means ‘of course’ in Russian and not so gently remind you that unlike your made for a holiday movie girlfriend, I am not going to learn another new language for you. Hockey is hard enough on its own.”
“Understood.”
Our call ends and I punch the button to grant myself access inside. I ride up to the GM’s floor completely alone for the entire stretch and use the time to replay exactly what I’m going to say.
How to say it.
What to do if it doesn’t get the romance novel response like I’m hoping.
And since it’s Hot Rocket, the chances of getting said response are start of the season slim versus end of the season stacked.
Exiting the elevator on the appropriate floor has me being greeted by Amaryllis Wu, one of the office receptionists, who simply waves me back to the GM’s office without bothering to double check that I have an appointment.