Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“So what do you think, Adler?” Coach Farrell smiles. “Are you ready to get out there, or are you enjoying your break?”
“Hell, no, I’m not enjoying it. Not sure I’ve ever gone six days straight without being on the pitch since I was a kid.”
He clamps a hand on my shoulder and chuckles. “Spoken like a true rugger.”
I shrug, smiling at him.
“Can’t play you this weekend since you’re not eligible until Thursday,” he says, gesturing to Jory to wind the guys down. “I’ll have you out here for Thursday’s practice, though. We’ll throw you right into the fire.”
“Looking forward to it, Coach.”
He steps in front of me, looking me in the eyes. His intensity makes my heart pound, but I don’t look away.
“We have a great team here,” Coach says. “It’s a great group of men. I believe you can find a home here and make a significant contribution to the team’s success if you put your head down and bring your best. This can be the start of something special, if you want it bad enough.”
I lift my chin and boldly meet his gaze. “You can count on it.”
He stares at me for a moment, then two, as if he’s weighing the truth of my statement. As if he’s not sure whether he believes me. I stare right back, choosing not to clear up any misconceptions.
I see the questions in his eyes. The rumors he’s heard and the conversations that have been had behind my back sit on the tip of his tongue, poised to launch my way. I don’t blame him for being curious, and I sure as hell don’t blame him for being concerned. I haven’t played with my heart for two years—and anyone with eyeballs can tell.
But when I left Denver, I promised myself that I’d leave all the baggage that I could behind. I owe it to myself, and Caroline, to start fresh and make the most of this opportunity. For both of us.
If I open the door to questions and start trying to explain myself, then I may as well have stayed in Colorado. Because one inquiry will beget another. And all of the shit I tried to leave in Denver will be firmly lodged in my life here. I can’t do that. I can’t survive it.
I love this game, and now, more than ever, I need it—but I keep that to myself, too.
Satisfied with whatever he sees in my reaction, he pats my shoulder again and joins the forward coach at the touchline.
“So what do you think?” Jory Plath rubs a towel emblazoned with the Royals logo across his heated face as he approaches me. “Think you can work with this?”
He flashes me a wide, toothy smile that matches his personality. He’s easygoing, as far as I could tell yesterday, and welcomed me to the team with no hesitation. Tall, with a body built for the strength and agility of a top winger, he’d be imposing if it wasn’t for that damn grin.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say, bumping his outstretched knuckle with mine.
Practice is adjourned on the pitch below, and players head to the locker room in small groups. Jory and I follow everyone toward the purple double doors.
“Have you been added to the group chat yet?” Jory asks, running the towel over his head.
“Group chat?”
“Yeah, the team chat on text messages. It’s currently called The Unemployed because Chase got pissed at Nico and Ridge for posting memes all the time. He told us we were gonna be unemployed if we didn’t take shit seriously, then he changed the group name and left it.”
I chuckle. This is gonna be fun. “Nope. I didn’t know there was a team chat, but it sounds like a good time.”
“I’ll add you,” he says, flipping off one of our hookers as we pass him. “The forwards come in early on Sundays for recovery.” He looks at me and grins. “Whatever the fuck you do, don’t get here before noon. Those motherfuckers come in, arguing about whose bruises are worse. They hog the saunas—and they’re gross. I’ve never heard a group fart as much as those fucks. Don’t stand behind any of them during yoga. You’ll thank me later.”
He gags, his face twisting into a horrified grimace.
I laugh, returning Nico’s nod as he jogs by. “This is all good information.”
“It’s the least I can do since you’re gonna be leading us to a championship this year.”
I look at him out of the corner of my eye to see if he’s joking or poking around for a reaction. Much to my surprise, there’s no humor or nosiness in his expression. Huh.
It takes a second to absorb the words he stated so matter-of-factly. “Since you’re gonna be leading us to a championship this year.” His confidence in me brings a genuine smile to my lips.