Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“You’re funny, Rafey. Loosen up that arm. I promise you, all your problems will fade away.”
“Hmm.” I sifted the cool stones through my fingers and tore my gaze away with a sigh. “Good. ’Cause I have another problem—Eli.”
“What’s going on with pinky man?”
“He wants more finger action,” I deadpanned, then spilled the beans.
To his credit, Gus was a great listener. He nodded, pausing every once in awhile to throw a stone.
“Weird. Do you really think a faux-bromance or romance would help?”
“I don’t know. It’s association, I guess. It’s probably the only reason he was interested in me in the first place. The worst part is that I could actually use some good publicity to make up for being out of commission for a year. I don’t have an agent anymore.”
“Then do it,” Gus said matter-of-factly.
My jaw dropped. “Really? You think I should pretend-date Eli?”
“I don’t like it…but I wouldn’t want to hold you back. Look, I can talk to Walker about doing an interview for What’s New, Smithton? with you. I mean, if you’re going to get any publicity he’s your best bet.”
I shook my head emphatically. “No, no. I can’t talk to Walker. He’s got too many followers, and as you know now, I’m not skating my best at the moment. I need to fix my mechanics before I invite extra scrutiny on the ice. I’ll just freeze. I know I will.”
Gus hummed sympathetically. “I get it. Do whatever you gotta do to get your shot, Rafey. Think of the long game.”
The ‘I’m not your long game’ was unspoken yet so damn loud that it reverberated through my skull. It was true, of course, but I didn’t want to discuss the particulars of our temporary liaison.
“Maybe you’re right,” I choked out, flinging another stone.
“Nice, Rafey. If you beat fifteen, you get to name your prize.”
“Anything I want?”
“Anything.” He flashed a wicked grin that made my breath catch in my chest.
I was suddenly humbled by his kindness.
Gus Langley was a good man.
“Thanks for this. I appreciate it.”
He pivoted, oozing mischief and mayhem. Something in his eyes dimmed, though, and when he spoke, his tone was surprisingly serious.
“You’ll get past this, Rafe. The yips, the pressure, the noise. Sometimes you have to step away from it all and reset. This is a good place for it. Nothing but birds and fish and deer. Skunks too, but I steer clear of them.”
I smiled and sent another stone skittering across the water. “Smart thinking.”
“I have my moments.” He held up a stone, shook it between his palms and tossed it. “Gimme sixteen, baby.”
We counted to seven together and groaned in unison.
“Do you do this often? I mean…to relax or…whatever.”
“Not really. The last time I was here I was with some teammates celebrating a win with a twelve-pack and—” He squinted at the lake and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I guess it’s been a while.”
“Is that on purpose?” I ventured cautiously. “I’ve noticed there haven’t been many parties at the house lately. If that’s for my sake, thank you, but…it’s your place too. You’ve gone above and beyond, and I appreciate—”
“Don’t thank me.” Gus faced me, his eyes stormy and readable. “I was a jerk, and we both know it. And anyway, I didn’t quit drinking for you—I did it because I got tired of blacking out and wondering what I’d missed.”
“You quit drinking?”
“I quit everything. Booze, weed, drugs…” He ticked the items off on his fingers. “Cold turkey, too. I haven’t had so much as a sip of warm Bud Lite or a puff of a cigarette, although I hate Bud Lite and cigarettes are nasty. My cravings run more toward Coronas, Johnnie Walker, Patron, and mary-juana. I never minded popping a pill every once in a while either or taking gummies. But…that’s the old me.”
“Okay. Um…why?”
“I’m trying on sobriety and seeing how it fits.”
“And?”
“It sucks,” Gus huffed, his lips twisting in a weary self-deprecating smirk. “I wake up in the morning stressed out, worrying about shit I can’t control. Same as always. Working through the bullshit without alcohol is really fucking hard. I’ve been going to the gym like a fiend and drinking more coffee than I think is technically healthy, but…I’ve stayed away from the bottle, so I’m calling it a win. I wish I knew what the prize was, ’cause feeling like crap twenty-four seven can’t be it.”
I opened and closed my mouth. “I…I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” He bumped my arm playfully and ruffled my hair. “I’m the one with the supersized issues. Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I haven’t told anyone. Not even my best friends.”
“Why not?”
Gus scoffed. “ ’Cause I’m their captain too, and they don’t want to hear that their captain is a head case who’s been drowning out real life with booze on the regular. I’m supposed to be their rock. I’m supposed to build morale, remind them to have fun, keep perspective. What I’m not supposed to do is wake up in the clothes I wore the night before and hope I didn’t do anything too stupid…every damn morning.”