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)
“Much better, Slayer.” His wink is followed by him pressing his mitt covered fist to the glass. “Bronskie.”
“Bro.” He bumps back prior to spinning around to show the name on the back of his sweater with a cocky point. “Reppin’ the fam.” When he turns back around, he proudly points to his feet. “Got my shit kickers on too.”
“Atta boy,” warmly chuckles our netminder. “I made sure Dubs put your favorite cowboy hat – the one Gramps got you – on Mic Drop.”
Giggling isn’t hidden. “You named the dragon on your bucket Mic Drop?”
“Of course,” he laughs off, “and you can see the cord wrapped around his tail,” Thayne states in tandem with twisting it around to show us, “and the pile of jellybeans he’s hoarding between the pipes.”
The sight gets me openly swooning, “They’re yellow.”
“I need my favorite Gillybean with me each night too.”
“Jellybean.”
“Nope.” His pointed finger lightly taps the object. “These have tiny Gs for Gillybean.”
Smiling wider and cooing louder can’t be stopped – despite the fact it probably should.
How can I not though?
He literally got me painted on his bucket so I could always be with him.
So we could always be with him and supporting him and at his side.
If that’s not a Golden Globe worthy swoon moment, what the hell is?!
“Let me grab a pic of you two for Grams,” I lovingly insist while retrieving my phone. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it since she can’t be here tonight.”
We offered to fly her down.
Dubs even offered to fly with her, but she refused.
Insisted she’d just watch him on the T.V.
That in spite of her cough mostly being gone she was still too tired for travel.
That she was too tired for even the simplest things like making herself a hot toddy; however, before we could express our concerns, she brushed us off.
Had Thayne and Bronny both promise to video chat postgame.
Together.
Show her proof that they really are getting along more often than not.
Once my camera is loaded, I click away, capturing serious along with silly shots of them.
Mygoodness, it’s easy to tell that they’re related in photos – particularly when they’re grinning like they’ve just won an Emmy for starring in an all-new, unscripted hockey themed reality show.
“All three of us, Slayer,” my boyfriend insists with a kick of his chin. “She’s gonna want you in the shot too.”
Turning around is easy and so is getting in closer to Bronny who happily leans into the action as if equally excited by my presence as he is his brother’s.
“You look so good in my number, Slayer,” Jukes purrs, prompting the teen to start taking selfies with the other players in the background, body casually migrating away to capture better photos. “You know it’s the only sweater you’re allowed to wear now.” He cockily smirks. “Thems the rules.”
Blushing and eye rolling seem to be all I’m capable of.
Ugh.
How does he always do this to me?!
Even when he’s at work?!
I put my phone back in my pocket and impishly investigate, “Who’s playing with you tonight, thirty-five?”
“You better behave, Slayer,” he playfully scolds prior to answering the question. “And it’s Peaches & Herb.” The corners of his lips curl even further upward. “I always start the season with the classics.”
Him naming the posts he works between all night – after famous duets – is only half of his ritual.
The other?
Those are the only songs he listens to pre-game, between periods, and sings while in net to help stay focused.
You know they say goalies are weird; however, all the boys have their game day musts.
For some it’s food.
For some it’s drink.
For some it’s underwear.
For Jukes…it just so happens to be music.
Getting in the right rhythm.
Which is pretty on script all things considered.
“And the tunes?” I curiously inquire on a small lean forward.
“Warmies, it was all about ‘Shake Your Groove Thing’.”
“Gotta show ‘em how you do it, huh?”
Light chortles are accompanied by an arrogant nod.
“And game time?”
“Reunited.”
“’Cause it’s gonna feel so good?”
“Only one thing feels better, Gillybean.” My suddenly stunned silent nature grants him the smooth segue he needs to skate away. “And I look forward to it post-game…”
Crimson coats my cheeks to the point I have no choice but to glance over my shoulder in hopes of catching my composure.
Unfortunately for me, I find a pair of eyes on me, I wasn’t expecting.
Shit!
“Can we go get snackies?” Bronny asks upon his return to my side. “Or should we wait ‘til post puck drop?” He barely lets a single beat pass before investigating further. “Or are we waitin’ to see what your ‘rents grab?”
Too many questions.
Not enough spare brain energy to process.
Not until I deal with something more pressing first.
“Um…” an abrupt, nervous hiccup further illustrates my current discomfort, “why don’t you go ahead and get to our,” the tick jumps into the conversation again, “seats. And we’ll,” a third, “decide from there.”