Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Apparently, I was a puzzle. My habit of littering his doorway with random treats and literature baffled him.
“You know I don’t own a dog, right?” Bryson had huffed, leaning across the foosball table.
“I’m willing to overlook that fault.”
“You don’t either,” he’d pointed out, swearing when I scored.
“Until a few months ago, I was on the road too much. I’ll definitely get a dog…or a cat. Or both soon. What’s your excuse?”
He’d frowned. “I don’t have one. I like animals, but I have a low-key fear of not being a good pet parent.”
I’d scored again, then set my hands on my hips and scoffed. “You? How could you be bad at it? You feed your dog, walk it, play with it, and boom, you got a friend for life. Cats are even easier. They just want food and to be left alone.”
“Did you have pets growing up?”
“Always. My dad was a big ol’ softy. He loved to rescue the so-called scary dogs who ended up at kill shelters or were abandoned on job sites. We had German shepherds, Rottweilers, boxers. I take it you didn’t grow up with a pet.”
“No. No one was home to take care of one.”
“What about you?” I’d asked. “Weren’t you home?”
“They forgot I was there most of the time too.”
There was a story there, however, deep-diving into childhood trauma would only fuck with our light and fluffy vibe. Besides, I was mildly afraid he’d turn the tables on me, and I definitely didn’t want to talk about my past.
“Yeah, well…do yourself a favor and get a damn dog. Best three out of five?”
My reservations about small-town living kicked in after school was underway in September. It was one thing to run practices in a tricked-out new rink in an empty architectural marvel and quite another to dodge hordes of teens in the hallways and deal with stressed-out teachers with plastic smiles pretending to be stoked to be back on the job.
As for me, I’d never worked at a high school. My exposure to teens was limited to summertime. Everything was fun in summer—especially hockey. You could be goofy and lighthearted in a way that wouldn’t fly during the season. I’d only ever been concerned with my own ability to play great hockey in the fall. I worked on me, for me…always. This would be different.
And challenging. These were teenagers, for fuck’s sake. They had curfews, negligible hygiene, and a host of worries I couldn’t relate to like homework, crushes, and social media bullshit.
Truth time…I wasn’t sure I liked adolescents, but even if I only stayed for two months, I had to perform. The boys were looking for leadership, and Riley needed a coach worth a damn.
Week one was a repeat of the last week of summer. Good but not great. They were distracted, and the only kid who consistently tried was Denny.
Funny enough, Denny was the one who worried me most. He might have been the best player, but hockey was a team sport and he was so quiet that I had to remind him to speak up and help direct the action on the ice.
Week two was better. The drills were cleaner, the effort was there, and they seemed to be building a rapport. Tim had moved on to quoting The Terminator, Micah was still playing instruments on his stick in between plays, and Harry brought Rice Krispies Treats to practice. But they were also learning their positions and getting better at handling the puck. Best of all, every single one of them was skating faster.
Call me crazy, but those little wins made coaching rewarding.
By week three, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
I liked Elmwood.
I liked the people and the cadence of small-town life. The quaint scenery, fresh air, and lack of skyscrapers and Starbucks were everything I didn’t know I wanted. And I really freaking liked my new job. It was basically extended summer camp in an idyllic setting where hockey ruled. What wasn’t to love?
The program was still in flux, which meant the coaches on hand would be spread thin until some key positions were filled. No doubt it would be chaotic and stressful, but it sounded so much better than sitting behind a desk, wearing a suit and a fake smile.
I still had an apartment and things to deal with in Toronto, but no one needed me there. My lease was paid through January, and the job I had lined up could be done by anyone. I wasn’t a necessary component to the network’s success. But here…I felt as if I could make a difference.
“You’re serious? You have no idea how thrilled I am to hear that,” Riley had enthused. “Do you need to think about this or—”
“No, I’m sure. I have to let the network know, but I can do that by phone, so…yeah, I’m in.”