Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
With home-ice advantage, the Vengeance is riding the momentum of their groundbreaking playoff run. After sweeping the Seattle Storm in the first round and taking out the Vancouver Flash in five games in the second, they were primed for the Western Conference finals against the L.A. Demons.
The seven-game conference final series both electrified fans and had them on the edge of their seats as the clock wound down in the last game. Tied at one a piece, team captain Bishop Scott and left-wing Dax Monahan dazzled fans with a memorable drive down the ice. Scott pushed the winning goal past Demon goalie Ryder Hayes to secure the Vengeance’s first appearance in the Stanley Cup Finals.
After a somewhat tumultuous season, including the ten-game suspension of veteran center, and then-captain, Tacker Hall, the team banded together and rallied back to finish the season leading the Western Conference. Their ability to overcome adversity as a brand-new team undoubtedly played a role in their success, not to mention the impact of head coach Claude Perron.
Under his tutelage, the team’s top scorers in the playoffs, Scott and Monahan, both racked up an impressive nineteen and twenty points respectively in sixteen games. Vengeance netminder Legend Bay stopped fifty-two shots, letting in just one goal by Demon captain Artur Lafleur. Letting in just ten goals over the course of the playoffs, Bay notched a remarkable .932 save percentage, putting him firmly in contention for the Con Smythe trophy.
Defensemen Erik Dahlbeck and Aaron Wylde were integral to the team’s success, with Dahlbeck notching his first-ever hat trick against the Demons, and Wylde netting three game-winning goals and setting a team record.
I stop reading for a moment to reflect on how momentous this all is. This final series is going to be brutally fought. The Cold Fury is trying for a three-peat championship, which is virtually unheard of. The Vengeance is trying to make history as the first expansion team to win the Cup. I predict it will go all seven games and souls will bleed. The first game is tonight, and we have home-ice advantage once again. It’s a good thing, as the Cold Fury has the edge where experience is concerned.
The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs startles me from the article, and I’m genuinely shocked anyone is up this early. I can tell by the heaviness of the steps it’s Dax coming down.
I look up from my iPhone just as he comes into the kitchen. He frowns. “Why are you up so early? And Jesus… you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I reply dryly, picking up my coffee and taking a nourishing sip. “Every girl loves to hear that.”
He doesn’t even look chagrined because he’s my brother and we’ve been telling it real to each other our entire lives. Moving past me, he goes to the cupboard and grabs a mug. “No, but seriously… are you sick?”
“Just sleep-deprived, I guess,” I mutter.
Dax pours a cup of coffee, then joins me at the table. I pretend to scroll through my phone, but I can feel his eyes resting heavy upon me.
Finally, I look up. “What?”
His eyes narrow on me, and there’s no forgetting he knows me better than probably anyone in this world. “What’s wrong with you? And don’t try to deny it. I can tell.”
I could totally offer up some lame excuse. Pull off a stomach bug or period cramps. But he knows what ails me isn’t really physical unless the ache in my heart and the shame swirling in my gut counts.
“Dominik proposed last night,” I say, and his chin jerks inward in surprise. “I’m surprised Regan or Mom and Dad didn’t tell you. They overheard it.”
“No one said a thing,” he replies softly.
“Probably didn’t want to bother you with it,” I hazard a guess. “I mean… why ruin your high over winning the conference finals? Congrats by the way.”
“Thanks,” he replies with a grin. “Nice of you to acknowledge it.”
“I’m so sorry,” I retort sarcastically. “I was busy getting proposed to, shooting that down, breaking Dominik’s heart, and then trying to work it out, only to have him break my heart. I had more pressing issues at hand.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs with sympathy now.
“And he was really cruel, Dax,” I say… in, yes, a whiny voice.
Too much of a whiny voice, apparently, as Dax isn’t swayed to any type of sympathy that puts him in overprotective-brother mode.
“Tell me what happened,” he orders in a no-nonsense tone. He means to assess the situation, then give me talk that’s not sugarcoated. Of course, if he feels it’s warranted, he’ll kick Dominik’s ass for me, but he wants to hear it all.
Normally, I’d be too embarrassed to repeat everything to most people, but Dax isn’t “most people”. He’s my brother, closest to my age, and we’ve been incredibly bonded our entire life. Because I’m a nomad without a home, I’ve often lived with my brother for stretches at a time as evidenced by his generosity in opening his home again so I can attend all the playoff games.