Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Would I not have nightmares about planes killing me had I done something early on?
Guess I’ll never know but I’ve fulfilled my obligation to Coach West by attending this gathering.
CHAPTER 4
Danica
Tapping out a few more keystrokes, I finish the email and hit Send. My eyes drift from the desktop screen to the photograph of Travis displayed prominently. I take a moment to revel in the joy that radiates from his smile. It was taken this past Christmas and he had just opened up the brand-new hockey skates he’d wanted.
Christmas was a mixed bag of emotions because it was the first one without Mitch. However, the natural feelings of magic, wonder and excitement of the holiday helped to curb the sadness that he wasn’t there to celebrate with us. On top of that, Travis had a bit of an emotional growth milestone that I wasn’t expecting. A few weeks before Christmas, he told me he had something serious to discuss and I remember my heart beating madly, wondering what it could be.
Was he getting bullied at school?
Was he perhaps interested in a girl? I thought he was probably too young at nine years old, but you never know. I know Mitch certainly wasn’t interested in me in that way at that age.
I imagined the worst and when it finally came, it was pretty bad.
Travis sat across the kitchen table from me. “Is Santa Claus real? And please be honest with me. Some kids at school say he’s not.”
I was wholly unprepared for that. In a million years, it never occurred to me that he would ask that question. With everything that had happened over the past ten months, doubts about Santa Claus were not at the top of my agenda for things I would need to handle as a single parent.
I’m sure I flubbed it badly, but the one thing Mitch and I always promised ourselves as parents is that we would be honest with our kid. I explained to Travis about the myth, the tradition and the magic of St. Nick. I stumbled over a half-hearted attempt to downplay our deception by calling it a gift of magic we were handing to him.
Travis appreciated the honesty but he was also a little pissed.
A smile plays on my lips as I remember him crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t believe you lied to me all those years about Santa Claus.”
He even lifted his hands and made air quotes with his fingers when he said the words Santa Claus before tucking them back again in a defensive posture.
My eyes roam over the photograph of my son holding up his new hockey skates, his smile beaming so broadly. It fills me with hope and promise that everything will be okay in our lives. With the gift of those skates, he got over his snit that we had lied to him and had a pretty damn good Christmas, despite the fact Mitch wasn’t with us.
I glance around my small office here at the Titans’ arena. Brienne set me up in this building to run the foundation as she’s doing the majority of her work here—running her family’s empire of business holdings, including Norcross Bank. She stepped into her brother’s shoes to run the hockey team after losing Adam when the plane went down. While she has a downtown headquarters across the river for all her family holdings, she likes working at the arena in Adam’s old office.
Even though she’s pulling back from team management and handing the reins to the general manager, Callum Derringer, I suspect she likes being on this side of the river because of our esteemed goalie, Drake McGinn. They outed themselves to the world as a couple a few months ago and I’ve seen him on more than one occasion sauntering into her office to hang out or eat lunch with her at her desk. They are as cute as cute can be.
It’s weird having an office. It’s weird having a commute. Being a stay-at-home mom all those years meant I didn’t have to battle rush-hour traffic. These days, after Travis gets on the bus to head to school, I make the drive across the river via the 40th Street Bridge to the arena. Even though I work only about five miles from my house, it can take me upward of twenty-five minutes from my Lawrenceville neighborhood to get here.
I don’t work every day at the arena by the grace of Brienne. I like to pick Travis up from school so I can maintain some semblance of the normal life he had before his dad died. Oftentimes, I’ll work from home to cut out some of the driving and I know very well how lucky I am to have a job that allows that level of flexibility.
And I know how blessed I am to have a job that lets me take care of my son.