Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Just eggs, sausage, potatoes and cheese. Nothing earth-shattering. What was your idea?”
Foster plunges his fork back into his food, pulling up another huge bite. Holding it aloft before him, he says, “Let’s go to the game tonight. I’m not dressing for it but it will be fun to go cheer them on.”
“Yes!” Bowie Jane exclaims, pumping a fist.
“That’s my hockey girl.” Foster grins and they fist bump with his free hand before he shoves the casserole in his mouth.
I don’t know much about hockey but I am curious. “Since you made it back in time, won’t they want you to play?”
Foster holds up his finger and I wait patiently as he chews and swallows. After wiping his face with a napkin, he says, “This is preseason and the Titans invite players not under contract to evaluate in training camp and then to see how they do on the ice. Those of us under contract still attend camp and will sometimes play in the games, but I’ve sort of been assured my position is solid, so they planned not to dress me tonight anyway. Even if I did, I wouldn’t see much ice time because they want to see the players who they’re considering adding to the team.”
“When are decisions made and how many are on the team?”
“Training camp continues through next week and there are two more games. After that, the coaches and management will set the final roster. We’re allowed a maximum of twenty-three players, but we can sign a total of fifty players to contracts.”
“And all twenty-three play?”
Foster laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t know anything about hockey, do you?”
I smile sheepishly. “Sorry. Not my sport.”
“Well, we’ll fix that.” Foster then taps Bowie Jane on the shoulder who is busy wolfing down her breakfast. He nods at me. “Educate Mazzy on how many players dress for a game.”
Bowie Jane grins through her eggs and swallows them down. “Twenty. Twelve forwards, six defensemen and two goalies.”
“Impressive,” I drawl. “And what is your dad?”
“He’s the center on the second line and the best player in the league.”
I frown in confusion. “What’s a center?”
Bowie Jane rolls her eyes and tips her head toward Foster. “She has a lot to learn.” She then turns back to me. “Forwards are the offensive players. You have a center and then a left and a right wing.”
It’s true I don’t know much about hockey. I have seen parts of a game on TV so I know my next question is silly, but I want to keep the conversation going. Anything to build rapport with this cutie-patootie. “If there are twenty total dressed for the game, how do they all fit out there on the ice?”
I get another eye roll and she informs me there are only three forwards, two defensemen and a goalie out there at a time. She explains about line shifts and then rattles off the names of the other players on her dad’s line.
My eyes cut to Foster only once. He is focused on his food but he’s smiling with pride over her knowledge. You can tell that Bowie Jane is very much into her dad’s career, not just as a Titans fan but as a fan of Foster McInnis. It’s utterly adorable and incredible at the same time because not many kids know their parents’ occupations that well.
CHAPTER 9
Foster
My eyes sweep across the large expanse of the team’s family lounge located on the bottom floor of the arena, just down from the locker room. It’s a place where family and close friends can congregate both before and after games. Filled with plush furniture and rectangular dining tables, the lounge always has a buffet available. My eyes immediately locate Mazzy by her mass of fiery red hair and warmth floods through me when I see that Bowie Jane is fast asleep in her lap as they sit on one of the couches.
It’s been nine days since Bowie Jane returned to Pittsburgh with me and she and Mazzy have bonded well. Currently, Mazzy is engaged in animated conversation with Kiera McGinn, who is not only our goalie Drake’s sister, but she’s dating Bain Hillridge, a first-line defenseman.
I weave through the crowd, accepting congratulations from those I know. When I reach Mazzy and Bowie Jane, I lean over the back of the sofa and press a kiss on the top of my daughter’s head. She doesn’t twitch a muscle, which means she’s knocked out cold.
Mazzy twists her neck to look at me and I grin. “Did you drug my kid?”
Her tone is droll… perfectly Mazzy. “Yes. A sweet cocktail of heavy barbiturates with a shot of bourbon.”
Laughing, I walk around the couch, lifting a hand to Kiera who says, “Great game.”
“For the entire two minutes you played,” Mazzy says with a faux pout. She knew I’d hardly get any ice time, given this is the last preseason game, but that she can tease me about it pretty much sums up how our relationship has progressed.