Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I don’t need checkin’ on.”
“He misses you.”
“He don’t miss me. He jus’ does what this family tells him to, meanin’ you told him to.”
Alright.
Fair.
In that sense.
And he actually does miss Grams – she’s hard not to – ‘cause he’s been traveling so much these past couple of years, but he is only going over to make sure she’s okay on her own.
I don’t think she’s ever been this alone.
Um lonely.
Er.
Independent.
That sounds better.
That sounds less like a Janet Jackson anthem.
“Nah, I did,” Bronson unexpectedly interjects into the conversation. “I didn’t pack my lucky hat that Gramps gave me, and I kinda need it out here.”
A lie.
But a well-intended one.
“Can’t wait ‘til we come home for Christmas.”
The small grin he delivers me indicates he knows exactly what he’s doing.
That he has my back the way I keep trying to have his – despite his teen denial.
“Gotta impress the new broadskies wink emoj.”
“Why?!” I chastise under my breath. “Why say the goddamn emoji?”
“See, now that hat nonsense I won’t buy, but at least I believe you’re sellin it,” Grams informs on a small chortle. “For the last time, I don’t need no body checkin’ on me…Y’all need to be focusin’ on y’all. Time with each other. Time with Gilly. School. Hockey. Family.” Her pause doesn’t leave ample time for any more arguments to be made. “But I’ll give him your hat to bring home to you and a couple slices of pie.”
“Thanks, Grams.”
“Mmmhmm,” she brushes off again. “We’ll talk later. Love you, boys.”
“Love you, Grams,” we echo prior to the call ending.
Afterward, I kick my chin in his direction. “That was a different kinda hat trick.”
“No.” Bronny disgustedly shakes his head at the same time he opens his door. “No Dad jokes.” The action is executed faster. “Vomit emoj.”
“You’re a vomit emoj,” I childishly mock during my own exiting.
Post grabbing my coffee, my gear bag, and locking my truck, we head side by side into the barn, politely waving or greeting staff enroute in between reviving the fight we were originally having before Grams finally answered my call.
“Me learnin’ to drive is already happenin’,” he grunts. “Why can’t it be with your truck?”
“’Cause I saw what you did to my kitchen.”
“That was an accident!”
“And what do ya think will be happenin’ the first time you get a pair of tits in a text?”
“Groffeeeeeeee,” a familiar voice suddenly shouts from behind me, thankfully summoning my attention elsewhere.
“Snowman,” I greet as he jogs up next to me.
“Groffee JV,” he tauntingly states to my brother.
“No,” we reject in tandem.
Laughter precedes him adjusting his own bag and cheekily pointing to the object in our hands. “I see you two are supporting the family business.”
“Ginger molasses latte for me, some energy drink garbage for him.”
“Are you truly incapable of ordering something remotely normal?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“You are so bloody weird,” playfully goads Snowman.
“You know I prefer to make my own, especially on non-game days, but I didn’t exactly have time this morning if you catch my clapper,” leaves me alongside an extended fist for bumping.
“Wait! Family business?!” my brother croaks stopping us dead in our tracks. “Your family owns LMC?!”
“My Slayer’s family does, yes.”
“No shit!”
“Yes,” Frosky lightly laughs, “however, we do not discuss it, much like our pending nuptials.”
“Yeah, not all chicks wanna talk about their pierced nipples,” Bronny concurs alongside a sympathetic head nod.
“Not…” I briefly shut my eyes in exasperation. “Just…” A heavy sigh is wedged between words. “No.”
“I swear she has to be the only Slayer on the bloody planet who does not want to plan a wedding,” complains our top scorer from last season, recollecting my glare.
He should consider himself lucky they don’t have to hide their relationship anymore.
I envy that.
Him.
Him for that.
And for being able to ask her to be his forever.
MoeBrandyknows, that’s what’s really deep in my heart.
“You’ve met Hoss,” escapes on a crooked grin, “what part of her screams Etta James and a white dress?”
“The part of her that cannot wait to smash bloody cake in my face.” While I lightly chuckle, my little brother laughs loudly sparking Frosky to jab, “And what exactly are you laughing at, Tiny Tendy? You have yet to land a sniper anywhere near the one I have.”
“Nahhhhh,” is accompanied by an amused headshake, “he ain’t a tiny tendy. Bud can barely catch a cold let alone a puck.”
Giving his broccoli style hair a playful ruffle instantly leads to him swatting at me.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” the player who wears an A on his sweater during the season casually inquires. “Perhaps learning the importance of brushing your teeth in the morning and before bed?”
“That’s fake news,” Bronny quickly denies. “Gilly’s jus’ makin’ that shit up to help her friends at big toothpaste push more product.”
My mouth twitches in preparation of arguing when another person unexpectedly questions, “Gilly?”