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)
Yeah… last night and this morning, the memories ran through my head like a motion picture on a loop and so I broke down and called her around ten thirty. She was working, so we kept the conversation short. I think I got what I was looking for in the first thirty seconds—true joy to hear from me. It was enough to push back any regrets or concerns that I made a mistake with her and assured me she didn’t have any.
She laughed as she told me Travis wanted me to pick him up from school but she nixed that idea.
“Why not?” I asked curiously.
“Trust me… carpool line is not fun. It’s a whole lot of waiting and you have better things to do.”
“I don’t mind.” And I didn’t. I had the time off, no other plans and I’m easy to entertain.
Danica didn’t give in right away but I eventually cajoled her into letting me pick up Travis. She had to call the school to put me on the permission list and also had them get word to Travis that I’d be picking him up.
It’s not that bad… waiting. I arrived early enough I’m only about twenty cars back and I’ve amused myself on my phone while listening to music. The process is fairly efficient and by the time I pulled up to the spot where Travis waited, I’d barely been there thirty minutes.
Travis was hilarious. First and foremost, he looked beyond adorable in his rumpled school uniform. Exactly how I’d imagine a little boy would look at the end of the day. His hair was all mussed up, his tie pulled loose and hanging crookedly, and there were what appeared to be mud stains on the knees of his khaki pants. I bet Danica spends a fortune keeping his clothes clean.
The best part was apparently Travis told everyone that I’d be picking him up and all his friends were watching. A group of about five or six boys stood a few feet back and rubbernecked at my truck as I rolled down my window.
“Car service for Travis Brandt,” I hollered and Travis beamed.
All the boys waved at me, other students craned their necks to see what was so important and Travis strutted to my truck. A teacher opened the back door to the cab and once he was on the running board, he turned to wave to his friends. “I’m headed to the rink with Camden Poe,” he called out. “We’re gonna play some hockey together.”
I grinned behind my aviator shades as Travis dropped into the seat and we bumped fists.
We’re at the arena now and gone is the excited little boy who wanted everyone to see he was friends with a professional hockey player. I’m not sure why that’s important to him or his social standing because his dad was a Titan as well. I’m hoping it’s because he considers me a friend of the family and it’s cool to know someone famous.
Now he’s a boy—still young—determined to excel at the same sport his dad played. He listens attentively, applies the knowledge I impart and busts his ass to do his best. He’ll try the same move over and over again until he accomplishes near perfection.
After an hour, he’s drenched in sweat and while he’s got no quit in him, I call time. “I need to get you home. I promised your mom I’d have you there by four thirty because you have to get your homework done before dinner.”
Travis scrunches up his face. “I hate homework. It’s stupid.”
“It’s necessary,” I say as we skate off the ice and head to the locker rooms.
“No, it’s not,” he counters as he removes his helmet. “My dad went straight into the league when he was eighteen and I’m going to do the same.”
Laughing, I ruffle his sweaty hair. “That may be so but you still have to graduate high school, so you still have to do homework.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he grumbles.
“Your mom says you do really well at Harrington. I take it that means you’re a smart kid, so homework shouldn’t be that big a deal, right?”
Travis shrugs. “I guess not.” Then he shoots me a grin. “But I’d rather play video games.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
After Travis changes, we head out. It’s the best time for us to talk about hockey so before I unlock the truck, I stop him at the tailgate.
“How was practice yesterday?”
“It was really good. Coach Kantor used me to demonstrate a certain move because he said I was the best.” That’s not necessarily a bad thing and as long as Travis remains humble, he should be proud his skills are called out. His mouth draws downward and his expression is troubled. “He’s kind of mean to some of the other kids, though.”
“How so?”
“Well, he’s kind of hard to please and some of the other kids—the ones that aren’t as good—he gets frustrated with them more. He yelled a lot yesterday and one of the boys cried. He tried to hide it but I saw it and I know some others did too. I don’t know that he’s going to keep playing.”