Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
But he’s also a humble guy, is coming off a year out of the league, and understands the need to prove his abilities.
The actual stumbling block to Drake considering the offer comes not from anything to do with the league but rather from the fact that he’s now raising three children on his own. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Brienne that his wife not only cheated on him but had been mired in drug addiction. Over the past year, Drake sought full legal and physical custody of his boys, and he got it. Not that it was much of a fight. He told me his ex-wife hadn’t even bothered to show up for court. She only sees the kids periodically, and he never lets them go with her. Visits have to be supervised at his home, and she often doesn’t want to do that because she’s high most of the time.
I give the guy so much credit for taking on sole parenting responsibility, not that he had much choice. But I know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his kids, and his biggest concern is traveling to away games.
Drake is not the first single dad in the league. There are a handful of them, and they employ the help of close family members, other teammates’ families, or even nannies to cover the children during game-related travel. Hell, Riggs did the same thing for his sister, Janelle, when she moved in with him. So the problem is not insurmountable; it just might not be the way Drake wants to parent his boys.
At the end of our phone conversation, Drake agreed to fly to Pittsburgh to discuss what a position on the team might look like. It wasn’t a firm commitment but rather a mild interest. His sister is going to watch the boys, and he’s doing a quick in and out. We have three hours of his time before he has to head back to the airport, so I want to make the most of it.
My intent is to watch video of our three goalie prospects, so I can start cataloging strengths and weaknesses. As I’m waiting for the laptop to start, my phone rings.
It’s Jenna.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Settling in nicely. Scared shitless, though.”
Jenna is one of only a handful of people I would admit that to, and only because she understands exactly how I feel because of her own demons. Sophie’s also on that short list, and I think Sophie might become someone I would share everything with, given the chance.
“I sent my résumé to Ms. Norcross,” Jenna says, her voice vibrating with excitement. “And we’re doing a Zoom interview tomorrow.”
“Wow.” That was fast. I’ll need to make sure to thank Brienne for giving Jenna the chance and moving so quickly. Obviously no clue if she’ll get a job, but I’m still grateful. I’d called Jenna last night and told her about my talk with Brienne, about any positions available that Jenna might be suited for.
“Emory’s not so sure I should do this,” Jenna says hesitantly. “What do you think?”
I wince internally because I don’t know Jenna the way her sister does. All I know is that I recognize myself within her. I’d tell her to take the chance, but I don’t want to push her in the wrong direction.
“I think you two need to discuss it carefully. Emory knows you best.”
“That’s not helpful,” she chastises.
“I know… but I can’t tell you what to do. All I can do is assure you that you have a friend here who will support you. So if you do get a job offer from Brienne, you have me here.”
“Now that is helpful,” she murmurs.
We chat a little longer, and she promises to call me after the interview to let me know what happens.
♦
Drake McGinn is a big son of a bitch, one of the tallest goalies in the league at six foot six. He’s escorted to my office by one of the administrative assistants, and my jaw drops slightly when I see him.
“Holy shit, dude.” My eyes roam over his frame. “You’ve gone all hippie, haven’t you?”
The man snorts, walks into my office, and we clasp hands. “I hardly think you could call me a hippie.”
“Biker chic, then?” I suggest. “The long hair, beard, and tattoos could mean the only things you’re riding these days is a Harley.”
Drake laughs. “I do own a Harley, but the hair and beard are mainly because who has time for haircuts and shaving with three boys to raise? And the tattoos are nothing more than a continuation of what I started years ago.”
It’s true. Drake had a shit ton of tattoos before, but now I can see them peeking out of the collar of his white T-shirt and at the wrists under his leather jacket. His dark-blond hair had always been a bit on the longer side, but it’s easily down to his shoulders now, and his beard is full-on playoff mode. At least it’s well groomed.