Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Is this because of me? Did I drive her away?
Shock and confusion war with hurt and anger, each battling for dominion. I'm supposed to be the cool, levelheaded captain, but right now, I'm neither of those things. I'm a powder keg ready to blow. She's been running from me for two years. Now, she's trying to run so far I can't even see her, and she didn't even tell me. Fuck no. Fuck that.
I'm going to spank her perfect ass.
"Why?" Wes growls.
"What the fuck did you do?" Theo growls at me at the same time.
"She can't quit!" Gray is on the verge of panic. "We need her. She actually likes us. We actually like her. Tell her she can't quit!"
"It's not my choice to make, son," Coach says. "It's hers, and she's made it."
"No." I push my way through the team, my heart in my throat. She loves this team, and they idolize her. There's no goddamn way I'm letting her quit.
I jump over the boards, landing on the ice.
"Kris!" Coach shouts. "Get back here!"
I ignore him. I ignore the shouts of my teammates. I ignore everything as I charge across the ice, desperate to find Kelsey and figure out what the fuck is going on.
Chapter Five
Kelsey
A wave of nausea claws its way up my throat, threatening to send me running for the trashcan. I fight it back, taking slow, deep breaths.
"Keep it together, Kels," I coach myself. "You can do this."
It's only cleaning out my office. It's not rocket science.
My bottom lip quivers, and tears obscure my field of vision, filming over the organized chaos. Stacks of paperwork turn watery. My disaster of a desk disappears behind the waterworks I'm trying not to unleash.
I'm a big girl. I can handle this.
Except…I don't want to handle this.
"Too bad," I whisper. "You already turned in your resignation. Now pack the damn box and deal with it." I take a breath, battle back the tears, and take a step into my office. It's still mine until the end of the week. After that…well, I'm not thinking about the future right now.
I'll have plenty of time to do that later.
The sound of skate blades on the cement reaches me two seconds before I smell him behind me. Kris. I close my eyes, fighting a whimper as his scent works its way through my system, liquefying me from the inside out.
My fight or flight kicks in, sending my heart slamming against my ribcage, but there's nothing to fight and nowhere left to run.
"You turned in your resignation."
My shoulders slump as soon as I hear the pain in his deep voice. I should have told him myself, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The truth is, I knew if I told him before I did it, I'd let him talk me out of it. I'd let him convince me to stay, and I'd become a distraction to the entire team. That's the last thing anyone needs right now. They're so close to bringing home the Cup. That's what they should be focusing on. Not me.
But when it comes to Kris, I have no willpower. Isn't last night proof enough of that? All he has to do is touch me, and I find any number of reasons to justify being with him. I convince myself that fairytales exist and people like me get to live happily ever after.
We don't. I'll never be able to give him normal. I'll never be able to give him a family.
I thought learning I had leukemia was the hardest thing I'd ever endure. I thought watching my mom leave was the thing that would break me. I was wrong. It's keeping this man at a distance. It's knowing what it feels like to be in his arms…and knowing I'll never have that again.
I'm in a hell of my own making.
"You can't quit, Kelsey," he growls, stomping into my office in his skates.
"This is the last place I need to be right now."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
I sigh again, turning to face him. He's beautiful in his practice jersey. Even with his sharp jaw set and his crystalline eyes shooting off sparks, he's gorgeous in a way that's larger than life to me. I'm not the only one who thinks so, either. Women flock to the games to see him, but he never notices. He's always too busy looking at me to see anyone else.
I've always been curvy. Thanks to all the medication, my metabolism sucks. We're an odd pairing—the gorgeous NHL captain and the curvy publicist—but he's never looked at me as if I'm anything less than perfect.
"Talk to me, elskan mín. Why are you leaving?" He pauses, the air between us charged. "Is it because of me?"
"What? No, of course not." It kills me that he thinks it is.