Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I love the teasing nature of his words, but he’s serious too. “Well, you can try.”
“I’ve got to be at the arena at ten for practice. I’ll have to get out of here by nine.”
“I’ll set the alarm,” I assure him.
Later, when we’re both snuggled under the covers and I’m pulled into a spooned position before him, Hendrix squeezes my hip. “Don’t even think about canceling our date tonight.”
I can’t help but chuckle, as he might know me better than I gave him credit for. There’s a part of me wondering if now that we have given into the lust and had sex before our second date, does he want to keep seeing me?
“The thought might have crossed my mind,” I admit.
“Well, uncross it. I’m leaving for a three-day road trip and I want to go out to another nice dinner.”
I’m flushed with a wave of giddiness that he wants to spend time with me. Not just sex, but a meal, which means more talk. I have a million more curiosities about him, and I’m glad that this somewhat drunken fall into fast sex didn’t derail our desire to get to know each other better.
“It’s uncrossed,” I murmur, turning in his arms. Although the bedside lamps are off, I can see his face from the glow of the light from the hallway bathroom I’d left on. I can walk around my house in the dark, but I didn’t want Hendrix taking an accidental tumble down the stairs.
I press my hands to Rachel’s name over his heart. “When did you get this tattoo?”
“About three months ago,” he says.
“Really? Only three months?”
“Let’s just say my earlier tattoos didn’t hold a lot of meaning.”
“I saw the Tasmanian Devil on your hip.”
Hendrix’s smile gleams. “My sixteen-year-old self didn’t make the greatest decisions. But to answer your question, it wasn’t until after the plane crash that I started thinking a little deeper about Rachel’s death.”
My arm goes around his back and tightens. “Why is that?”
Hendrix lifts a shoulder, as if he doesn’t quite know the full answer. “I grieved for my sister. I still do. I did throughout my entire life after her. My family has coped with it, we’ve had therapy, we all talk about Rachel. But it wasn’t until I had my own brush with death that I realized how fragile life really is. I don’t think I appreciated that before. And I never wanted to forget it, so I put her name over my heart.”
“You had a brush with death because you weren’t on the plane,” I say with understanding.
“Does that sound overly dramatic?”
I shake my head emphatically. “Not at all. I don’t know why you weren’t on that plane, but you easily could’ve been.”
“Minor injury. I pulled a groin muscle and was only out for that one game. In fact, I almost did go, but the coaches decided to give me one more night of rest.”
“A twist of fate is all that stood between you and death.” A tiny shiver skitters up my spine at the scary truth that your next minute on this earth isn’t guaranteed. “How have you been since the plane crash? It’s not just a brush with death. You lost close friends.”
“Too many close friends,” he murmurs, his voice so slight, it would get lost on the wind if we were outside.
“I can’t imagine.” I skim my fingers over his collarbone, along his shoulder, then smooth my palm down his arm. “How did you even manage to cope with those losses?”
“Therapy,” he says, and my eyes lift to his. There isn’t an ounce of hesitation in his admission. “There was only me, Coen, and Camden left. Coen went off the rails.”
I had indeed read all about Coen’s troubles following the crash. “But he seems good now.”
“Yeah. He’s good now. Met a woman who healed his heart.”
“You believe that can happen?” I ask.
“That a woman can have such power?” Hendrix asks for clarification.
“That love can fix things.” I wonder, maybe if I love my mom enough, will I be able to heal what’s broken inside her?
“All I know is that a heart can be healed. And I suppose that could be done by the love of someone. I mean, I had my parents, but not a girlfriend or anything. Just a good therapist named Pete.”
I laugh, trying to imagine what Pete looks like. “And Camden’s okay?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and I hear self-condemnation in that. “We haven’t talked about it in such a long time.”
I lift my head, locking eyes with him. “No one says you have to. Not if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah… I know. It’s just… he seems fine, so I don’t ask, and he doesn’t ask me. He’s a little off on the ice this year, but he was fine last year, so who knows.”