Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Oh, sensitive?” she says with no concern for anyone but her annoying self. “And am I to assume we must make an appearance for these? Why is Ally back in town?”
“Yes, we are invited. All of us. And Ally is married to Asher, Stella’s brother,” Dad replies.
“They got married?” I ask, confused. “Didn’t they have a baby, too, and didn’t tell anyone?”
Dad laughs. “Yes, very private, those two. Didn’t tell Harper or Jakob about anything.”
“Or even Lucas and Fallon,” Mom supplies. She then looks to me before asking, “Can you come?”
“I have a three-hour workout with the trainer, but I should be able to come after.”
“Fantastic,” Mom says, walking over to me and hugging me tightly. “I moved here with you, so don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Yes, Mom. I know,” I say, kissing her cheek as I hold her close. Like Kat, she is very slender and petite. Beautiful. Her eyes are the most stunning color of light blue, almost like the sky.
She kisses my cheek once more and whispers “Love you” before tapping my bicep. She heads out the door as Dad shakes my hand, and we hug tightly. I notice Kat walking out, but there is no way I’m stopping her.
When Dad pulls back, his eyes lock with mine. We are the same height; I’m bigger, but that doesn’t discount my dad at all. He is massively strong even at his age, and I respect him more than anyone in this world. My dad is everything to me. I love my mom, I do, but there is something about my dad’s quiet demeanor that pushes me to be the very best for him. While I’ve always wanted to play for the Assassins, I was fine in the Russian league. I was happy, but it was he who asked when I was going to play for the Assassins.
I contacted Elli the next day.
I want nothing more than to please my dad and make him proud. Which is why I kill myself on the ice and in the gym.
“You’ve got this, you hear?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“I love you. Call me if you need me.” Any normal father/son dual exchange of love wouldn’t have anything else tied to it but love. But between my father and me, there is more to it. His “I love you” also means, Do your best and don’t embarrass me. Make the team, or don’t call me. Don’t get distracted by pussy. Do what you came here to do.
I don’t answer his concerns. I just hug him tighter and say, “I will. Love you too.”
After an hour of weight training, I suit up and hit the ice. I’m not gonna lie. The moment my skates hit the rink in Luther Arena and the crunch of the ice under my blades fills my ears, I feel at home. I know I’m where I’m supposed to be. I look around at all the empty seats, and it’s almost as if I’m taken back to when I was a child. My last time skating on this ice was when I was six, I think. Dad and the team had won the Cup, and we had an after party. I outskated everyone. I wasn’t getting off the ice, no matter what. Too much fun.
As I pepper the goal with pucks, I think I am alone. But then I hear, “You’re dropping your shoulder too late and not leaning back on your back leg.”
I look back to see Posey Adler on the ice, in sneakers and with a baby on her hip. Wow, I forgot how beautiful Posey is. Wild auburn hair up in a huge bun and thoughtful blue-green eyes that can stop a room. Of the two Adler sisters, most would choose Shelli for sheer, classic beauty. For me, it was always Posey. She’s just gorgeous, but she never gave me the time of the day. I smile widely at her. If I were to do what everyone else did and marry one of the people I grew up with, it would be Posey.
Though, it looks like that ship has sailed for me.
“Is that right?” I ask as she comes toward me, her face radiant.
“Yeah. Go ahead,” she says and holds up her phone. I do as she says, and then together, we watch the film back. She slows it down, and she is right. Shit. “See? You know better.”
“I do,” I say, and then I turn back to the goal.
“You’re used to trying to play fast and get the puck off your stick without remembering your technique,” she explains, tapping my side. I drop my shoulder the way she instructs me. I take a deep breath and slow down my mind before taking the shot the way I’m supposed to. Everything is so quick in the Russian league. It wasn’t about clean play; it was about making the next play or the next goal. Quickly. Hockey is a very fast-paced sport, but you also have to remember the foundation, your skills. And sometimes I forgot when I was playing in the Russian league.