Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“I think private is best,” Lars Janssen said. The burly Swedish D-man had gotten married this past summer after proposing to his wife on Valentine’s Day.
“Yeah, that way you have an out if she says no,” Rory Beauchamp, another D-man, quipped.
“Thanks a lot!” Boone laughed, raising his middle finger in the air.
“I agree that the proposal should be private,” our team captain, Wes Kirby, chimed in. “The engagement part, wedding, all of that is a big deal, but the proposal should be just the two of you. Maybe a photographer if you feel the need to capture the moment for all eternity.” He grinned even as he rolled his eyes.
“I don’t care about all that,” Boone mused, “but she might. I want to make this all about her, you know?”
“Are you sure she’s the one?” Nash asked, frowning. “Didn’t you guys have a big blowout over the summer?”
“We worked it out and I’m trying to show her I’m all in.”
“Kinda hard to do with a micropeen like yours,” Rory said dryly.
“You wish you had a peen like mine,” Boone shot back.
“Just do what feels right to you,” Wes said, ignoring them. “You know her better than we do.”
The conversation went on around me and I tried to tune them out without being rude. After our goalie had retired at the end of last season, I’d taken over his starting position, which required a bit of locker-room leadership. Not like what the captain did, but a more subtle way of guiding them when necessary.
My teammates were great guys, which I appreciated. I was a bit closer to Boone and Sawyer than the others, though Sawyer and I obviously hadn’t had much of a relationship lately. I would have been lying if I said I hadn’t missed his friendship the last few months. Boone was my party buddy, but Sawyer had been my more serious friend. Someone I felt comfortable just hanging out with. No pressure to be smart or funny. I could just be.
Annie and I had been friends too. She’d been learning a little Russian, determined to make me feel more comfortable when we hung out, and I missed her hilarious texts asking me how to pronounce curse words. The best ones—and I’d saved them all because they still made me smile—were her voice texts. Her mispronounced “fuck you” had me rolling at one point.
“Anyone new in your life these days?” Boone asked when the proposal chatter had settled down. “That redhead at The Crazy Horse was hot.”
I shrugged. “Was just a lap dance. Nothing more.” I had no problem with strippers, but I wasn’t in the market for anything beyond sex. Not with a stripper or anyone else.
“You can’t pout over Svetlana forever, dude.”
The mention of my lying, cheating ex made me scowl.
“Don’t,” I warned.
I hated talking about her. I’d been humiliated when she didn’t just cheat on me, but did it behind my back with a former teammate. On top of that, I hadn’t ended things right away. We had a shared past. She’d been with me through some of the darkest days of my life, so I’d fought to save the relationship. I initially couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of being without her, though I’d eventually done what needed to be done.
The whole thing had soured me on relationships and aside from a healthy dose of casual hookups, always on the road, I’d steered clear of anything even vaguely resembling a relationship ever since.
My thoughts inadvertently strayed to a pair of big blue eyes, and I realized I’d thought of Lucy several times over the last few days. I wondered how she was, if Sawyer was making her life hell, or if she needed anything. I hadn’t heard from her, so I figured she was okay, but it reminded me to mention the situation to Wes.
“Hey.” I leaned forward and tapped his shoulder.
“What’s up?” He turned curiously.
“I saw Sawyer the other day.”
“Yeah?” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to the side so we could talk more easily. “How is he?”
I shook my head. “Bad. Worse than ever.”
He made a face. “Really?”
“His sister came to town and I had to pick her up from the bus terminal because he was passed out drunk.”
Wes sighed, looking away. We all understood grief, and while Sawyer’s may have been a little more poignant, it was time for him to at least try to return to the land of the living. His spiral into a cycle of grief and despair wasn’t healthy.
“He has to deal with this in his own time,” Lars said patiently. “You cannot rush grief.”
“This is more than that,” I said. “He’s not showering, not eating, not doing anything but drinking. The house was…a mess.”
“Might be time for us to be a little more proactive,” Wes said. “I think we all need to check in more regularly. Let me think about it and maybe I can come up with a plan.”