Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
My fucking number.
Christ.
“Woman,” I threatened, picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder. But she laughed and promised to behave, and I dropped her again, threading my fingers through hers as we continued our walk.
“I just don’t know what more he expects of you,” she said, and my chest tightened with the conversation swinging back to my father.
“Perfection.”
“Well, that’s stupid. No one is perfect.”
I nodded, a flash of my father’s signature scowl striking like a branding iron.
“You do like it, right?” she asked. “Hockey, I mean. I feel like there’s no way you fake playing as well as you do and looking like you’re having fun while doing it.”
“I love it.”
The words rode out on a longing breath. It was true, but it hurt to admit.
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t,” I said. “Because he…” I paused, forcing a breath that I needed to loosen my chest. “He makes it so fucking hard sometimes. He makes me hate it, hate myself, even. I’ll come out of a game on this… God, this unexplainable high.” I shook my head. “And then he’ll grab me by the throat and throw me to the ground.”
“Jaxson…”
“It’s fine,” I said.
“No, it’s not. I know this was his dream, and I understand that he helped you a lot with it. I’m sure he was a great coach, a great trainer. But he has no right to taint something that means so much to both of you. It’s like he…”
She swallowed, biting back her words, and when I looked at her, I saw the regret on her face.
“Like he’s jealous?”
“I didn’t want to say it.”
“Me either,” I admitted. “But I’ve always wondered.”
We walked in silence for a bit.
“It makes me sad,” I confessed, chest tight again. “Because I love him. I care for him. I fucking hate that his career, hell, his way of life, got taken the way it did. I can’t imagine having an injury like that. And I want his approval. I want him to be proud of me. But… fuck.” I kicked a rock, cracking my neck. “I hate that when he calls me, my stomach drops. I hate that even when I play my best, I know he’s on social media just looking for someone talking shit about me so he can rub it in my face and tell me how I fucked up.”
Grace pulled me to a stop this time, and she placed her hands on my chest, right over where my heart felt like it was about to burst.
“Look, I’m not one to talk,” she said. “But, for what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing. And I also think your father is hurting and doesn’t know how to properly handle it. And I also think,” she said, smiling a little, but it fell just as quickly. “That you are not the one who has to help him figure that out, nor do you have to be his punching bag.”
I swallowed, covering her hands with my own.
“I know he’s your dad, so I won’t pretend like it would be easy to do. But… if you ever decided to draw a boundary, just know I would understand it. And you’d, at the very least, have me supporting you in that.”
Fucking hell.
My chest hurt even more, and for a completely different reason.
“No fucking way are you just twenty-two,” I said.
She laughed, and we started walking again. “Oh, trust me. I’m great at giving advice. Just don’t ask me to take any for myself.”
“You do really suck at talking about your feelings.”
“Gee, thanks.” She laughed, but then let out a long sigh. “I want to get better at that.”
“Let’s start now, then.”
“Uh-oh.” She looked at the lake, then up at the sky. “You know, I think we should head back, get the fire started. We—”
I grabbed her and pretended to drag her toward the water, which made her squeal and thrash until I set her back down. Then, I sat on a flat rock along the shoreline and pulled her into my lap. I turned my hat around backward and took my sunglasses off so I could see her better, so she could see me.
“You’re not getting out of this.”
She sighed, staring at where her hands were folded in her lap. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Just start talking. Tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, and she swallowed, shaking her head.
“Okay,” I said on a chuckle. “How about the second thing?”
Grace was quiet for a while, her eyes on the lake. Then, she did exactly what I’d asked her to do. She started talking.
And the words spilled out like she’d had them dammed up her whole life and I’d just busted the thing down.
“I’m so grateful,” she started. “For everything in my life. I’m thankful for my parents, for how hard they worked to set me and my brother up with a life most people could only dream of. I’m thankful for the experiences I’ve already had, and I still have a whole life ahead of me. I’m thankful for Vince, for what he’s done for our family, and for how he’s always protected me.”