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)
Trina comes over and turns me to face her. Looking into my eyes, she asks, “You’re gorgeous, Briar. Now where’s this coming from?”
I shrug, but slowly say, “I’ve seen the women that flock to the players, and the women they choose to . . . ahem . . . see.”
“Sleep with,” Trina corrects. “Or fuck, if we’re being perfectly blunt.”
“Yeah. And I’m not remotely like that. I don’t flirt and have casual sex and date.” That’s putting it mildly. I’m not a man-hater exactly, but I’m a man-don’t-need-er since, in my experience, they come with more problems than I have time for.
But what if I want him? The idea is foreign. Want . . . a man?
“You could, if you wanted to.” Trina’s suggestion is casual as can be, as if she’s not reading my mind.
My insecurities spill forth, unbidden and unfiltered. “I’ve spent years putting everyone else first, existing on the half-eaten sandwiches that Harley leaves behind on his plate, and making do so he can have what he needs. I’m the type of woman who carries bandages on my person at any given time, in case someone has a boo-boo, for God’s sakes, not the type who dates a professional athlete.” There’s a multitude of reasons for that beyond my lack of self-prioritization and cute wardrobe, but I don’t go into that. Trina knows.
“So? Maybe Dominic likes that you’re caring and well prepared. Like a Girl Scout!” she exclaims, trying to make it sound like a desirable trait.
“And if that’s not enough, I’ve got so much baggage in my head and heart that I need a dump truck to help haul it.”
“Dominic seems pretty capable of carrying some of that,” she offers, flexing her biceps to remind me of Dominic’s strong arms. “And who doesn’t have a history?” Trina rolls her eyes dismissively, as though all my arguments are ridiculous. “Goodness knows I did and Frank didn’t seem to mind.”
Frank is Trina’s husband. They met at the gas station where she was a clerk when he stopped to fill up his semitruck. He proposed within literal hours of their first conversation despite her previous stint in jail and one year of sobriety at the time, and oddly enough, she’d been game, climbing into his rig and into his heart that very day. Their meet-cute is more like a meet-crazy. Of course, that was twenty-five years ago, so I’m not sure her advice is particularly timely. Or trustworthy.
“But—”
This time, Trina doesn’t let me argue. She cuts me off. “Enough. Quit with the pity party.”
That brings me up short. I do not throw pity parties, not even with confetti and streamers. Though that does sound on-brand given I’m the sort that makes life fun, even when it’s swirling down the toilet drain. “I—”
Trina’s not done reading me the riot act, though, and holds up a hand. “And stop with the ‘not enough’ or ‘too much’ bullshit. I know you, and know how awesome you are. What’s more, you know it too. Yeah, so what if Dominic’s some famous athlete and you’re a regular mortal? You deserve some fun too. Some carefree happiness.” She dips her chin, daring me to disagree with her when she adds, “And some diiiiiiiick.”
I don’t know about “deserve,” but wanting some fun (and yes . . . sex) is definitely true. Still . . .
“Okay, not arguing with the rest of it, but what if he goes back home after the season?”
It’s a ridiculous concern. She’s suggesting casual fun and I’ve gone straight to the far end of the realm of possibilities, skipping over steps two through two hundred, and roughly a hundred hockey games including playoffs. But that’s what mothers do, plan for any and every eventuality just in case, and in a way, I think that’s what I’m most scared of. What if I break my own rules for Dominic and it ends up backfiring the way I’ve always feared it would? He’s not only a man, which in my mind translates to manipulative and self-serving, he’s a hockey player, which means he’s a leaver. It took me a long time to be okay on my own, and I don’t know if I can go through that process again, which I inevitably will have to do with a man like Dominic.
It’ll be worse when Dominic is gone because he’s already set the bar infinitely higher than Dad or Tyler ever did.
The whisper in my mind echoes through my heart. The truth is, I already like Dominic more than I should.
“What if you get hit by a bus tomorrow? Or the sky falls, Chicken Little?” Trina counters. “You’ve got to live. Every single day is a gift. Use them. Use him.” She clamps her hands on my shoulders, nearly hitting me with a carrot in the process. “Maybe you have some fun for a while. Or maybe you fall in love and see what happens. Or maybe a million other things.”