Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Briar chuckles. “My entire wardrobe consists of shirts from the gift shop that I bought with my employee discount and the occasional animal-themed gift.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you sleep in one of those oversize T-shirts with a giraffe body on it where your head sits at the top of the giraffe’s neck.”
Briar gasps in shock. “How did you know that?” I’m truly not sure if she’s kidding or if I hit the nail on the head. In a stage whisper, she adds, “Do you know about the matching giraffe knee socks too? Très chic.”
“She’s so weird,” Harley declares, but I’m picturing Briar fresh from bed with sleep-drunk, soft eyes, in what amounts to a giraffe costume, and instead of looking strange, it’s doing unexpected things to my face. I think I’m smiling . . . a lot.
“Says Mr. Spider-Man pj’s,” Briar teases Harley, and then she turns to me. “And you probably sleep in team gear, right?”
I arch a brow and deadpan, “I sleep naked.”
“Oh!” Briar squeaks as that pretty pink blush colors her cheeks once more. I’m 99.4 percent certain she’s imagining me, bare-assed and hopefully hard. But she quickly points at Harley and says, “Don’t even think about it, mister.”
The boy instantly slumps in disappointment, and I can’t help but chuckle. “I bet Snuffles gets to sleep naked,” I stage-whisper to him.
Briar’s mom voice returns as she declares, “Snuffles is responsible for an entire herd. He gets to do whatever he wants. You have to be reminded to brush your teeth every day and pick up your dirty clothes from the floor.”
I pull a face, cringing, and say to Harley, “Your mom’s got a fair point. Definitely need to brush morning and night. And clean up after yourself. Morning breath and dirty drawers are a big no-go.”
“But if I slept naked, I wouldn’t have laundry to pick up,” Harley counters, but he’s joking with his mother. She gives him one of those trademarked mom looks, silently saying so much, and he shrugs. “It was worth a try.”
I like how comfortable they are with each other. It reminds me of my parents, who are amazing. If you looked up mom and dad in the dictionary, their pictures would be there. Loving and supportive, they are the foundation on which my success is built, and I’m grateful for them every day, especially after seeing how fortunate I am to have them in my corner. Not everyone is so lucky. Harley’s lucky, too, at least with his mother.
“How’d you end up taking care of animals?” I ask curiously. “It’s not exactly the usual nine-to-five.”
“And hockey is?” she challenges. But she explains, “I loved science as a kid. Every animal show I could watch, I did . . . on repeat. The plan was to go to college for a zoology degree, but plans changed.” Her eyes drop to Harley for a split second, but there’s only affection in their depths, no regret over her changed course. “When Harley was little, I would take him to the zoo in his stroller every chance I could. I’d walk him around all day, teaching him about the animals, and eventually, I got to know the keepers. That grew into volunteering, and when we moved here, I applied for an entry-level job, mostly cleaning habitats and helping with the education programs like I’d done before. I did finally get my degree, just an associate, but because the zoo is so small here, that’s been enough to let me move up the food chain so to speak. Now, I get to work directly with the animals, which is exactly where I belong.”
“Dream come true, I guess,” I summarize, and she smiles happily as though she truly believes that.
Caretaking seems to be her nature, something I can relate to. I took care of my sister, mostly protecting her from herself, for my whole life, then added on taking care of Griffin through his rough patch, and now, I’ve been tasked with taking care of Kipson the same way. It might not be my career choice the way it is for Briar, but I understand what it takes.
“Was hockey always your plan?” she asks.
Nodding, I say, “Plan A, B, C, and every letter to Z. There was no alternative. It’s all I ever wanted. Dreamed about it as a kid, focused on it through high school and the minors, and now that I’m living it, I still have to put in the work every day to keep the dream alive. The guys coming up are younger, hungrier, and sometimes stronger. I used to be like that—on that side of the team equation,” I say wistfully. “But now, I’m on the other side, as the grizzled veteran, which means I have to be smarter.” I tap my temple, emphasizing that so much of hockey is mental, not only physical—a lesson I’ve seen play out in front of me too many times. “Things can go sideways in a blink, and you end up somewhere you never expected to be.”