Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
It wasn’t about Jarvis. I couldn’t care less if I ever saw him again. But I’d missed out on everything a wedding day was supposed to be, and while he wasn’t the man I was supposed to be with, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever have this chance again. Even if I eventually met someone special, I couldn’t expect my parents to put on another wedding, and with a future in academia, I most likely wouldn’t have the money either.
Okay, knock it off.
I spoke sternly to myself. It wasn’t like me to get melancholy, and I had a lot of work to do. Even though I’d only taken off a few days instead of the full week I’d planned, I wanted to finish my studies and get my PhD. Until it was official, most things in my life would have to wait.
I was a few minutes late to the rink that night, and I skidded onto the ice as my dad and the other volunteers were taking roll. Johanna, a seven-year-old girl who wore her hair in a thick braid down her back, came stumbling over to me.
“I wanna be the goalie tonight,” she announced.
Yesterday, she’d been all about playing defense.
“You can’t just be the goalie,” I told her gently, squatting down so we were eye level. “You don’t have the right equipment.”
Her mouth pulled into a pout. “But you said we could be anything we wanted to be if we worked hard.”
“And I meant it. But being a goalie is different because of the equipment. You have to tell us ahead of time so we can find the right pieces in your size.”
“It’s not fair!” She stomped her foot and promptly wiped out. The group of kids standing around her laughed and her face turned red.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I warned the other kids before turning to her and holding out my hand. “Come on, Johanna. We can talk more about the goalie thing, but not if you have a tantrum.”
She sighed far more dramatically than the situation warranted but then reached up and took my hand so I could help her up.
“Tell you what,” I said, once we’d split off to run drills with the different age groups. “If you work really hard on defense next week, I’ll see if I can find goalie equipment in your size that you can try out.”
“Yay!” Her eyes lit up as she followed the other kids as they warmed up.
None of the kids in her age group had wanted to be a goalie this session, but I honestly didn’t believe we had anything that would fit her, so that wound up being a good thing. This camp for underprivileged children in the St. Louis area was ongoing, running a few days a week during different times of the year. It took a ton of time for Dad to organize it, which was why he always enlisted the help of his players and anyone else willing to jump in.
Ironically, even though he treated Jarvis like a son, Jarvis had never volunteered. Not even in the off-season.
Looking around, it didn’t escape me that both Nash Reilly and Michael Boone volunteered often, and tonight I’d spotted two other guys from the Mavericks, Lars Jansson and Sawyer Cain, in the locker room helping the youngest boys learn how to put on their equipment.
Lars had a pregnant wife at home, but he still found the time to help.
Jarvis had no excuses and he’d never shown up in all the years Dad had been doing it.
I couldn’t believe I’d almost married him.
“Coach Jolie,” a little girl named Bethany tugged on my pants. “I have to go potty.”
“Can you go by yourself, or do you need me to help you?”
She wiggled nervously. “I can’t get my equipment off.”
I looked around to see who was nearby and motioned to Michael, who skated over to me.
“What’s up?”
“Can you watch my group for a few minutes? I have to take Bethany to the bathroom.”
“Sure.” He nodded, probably glad none of his players had to go.
I helped Bethany get half-undressed and then helped her put everything back on once she’d done her business. It took nearly fifteen minutes and by the time we got back on the ice, Boone had my group of girls doing a skating drill with his boys. And it was a clusterfuck. The boys were mostly faster but in many cases clumsier. The girls had a lot of heart but took it harder when they lost the individual heats.
“Thank god,” Michael breathed when he saw me. “I thought you’d made another run for it.”
“Nice.” My voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I was just kidding.”
“Whatever.” I blew my whistle, motioning to the girls.
“Jolie. Hey.” Michael skated alongside me. “I was really only trying to be funny. While you were gone, two of the girls started to cry and one of the boys announced he didn’t think girls should play hockey.”