Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Not partying,” I reply with a chuckle. “But couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d have a drink or two. You played a great game tonight.”
Riggs had actually thrown down gloves with Nilsson, who dared to body check Dax just a little too hard. Both ended up in the box with five-minute majors but Nilsson was the only one bleeding by the time the fight was through.
He doesn’t respond to my compliment with anything other than a chin lift.
I’m not offended. He told me I played a great game as soon as we made it back to the locker room at the end of the third period. I also know he’s being obstinately quiet so as to discourage additional conversation.
“You ever get something running through your head and you can’t sleep because of it?” My question is rhetorical as I’m sure that happens to everyone. I pull my thumb back toward my chest. “That was me tonight.”
“That’s me a lot of nights,” Riggs admits as he stares down at his beer.
I’m stunned he shared that, but I also know Riggs is squirrely about his personal life. He didn’t say that as an open invitation for me to ask questions, but I took it as somewhat of an invitation to stay.
“Look… I know you like to be alone.” I give him a pointed look and he returns it. “Not into small talk. Only time you’ll talk is if it’s about hockey.”
“All very true,” he says, then throws his head back to the bar with a smirk. A silent command I should go back there.
I smirk back. “And if I was polite, I’d go back up to the bar and let you be a loner like you are.”
Riggs nods with a sage expression. “If you were polite, that would absolutely be the way to go.”
“But the thing is…”
Riggs groans dramatically, tipping his head back until it hits the cushion of the booth and stares at the ceiling.
“I’ve got girl troubles,” I announce.
Almost proudly.
Riggs snorts a mirthless laugh, bringing his gaze back to me. “Of course you do.”
Then he does something interesting. He hunches over his beer, bringing his whole-body language of attention forward, and pins his eyes on me.
Expectantly.
I don’t wait for a further opening. “I’m dating Emory.”
“So I’ve deduced,” he says dryly. Which means he pays attention far more than he lets on.
“And things got serious, and then they got more serious, so now they’re seriously complicated.”
“Stop talking in riddles and spell it out for me,” Riggs orders, picking up his beer and draining it in three large swallows. He looks over to the bartender and raises the glass to indicate another.
“Okay,” I say, picking up my shot glass and tossing it back. I don’t hold the empty up for another, setting it upside down on the table to indicate I’m done with the bourbon.
Then I start talking and I don’t stop for a full five minutes. I don’t even pause when the bartender brings Riggs his beer.
I tell him about how it was just supposed to be casual, because I don’t do relationships or commitment. I certainly don’t date women with kids.
I explain how things changed, and how Emory and I grew closer, and I came to care for her daughter.
“I never planned for any of that,” I say.
Riggs grunts an acknowledgment.
Next, I explain about Shane and how he re-entered Felicity’s life. I admit I don’t like that bastard and never did, but that I was on board with him having a shot with his daughter. I pull no punches about his addiction and that he failed to show for the daddy/daughter dance.
“Shane seemed to have it under control.” I take another sip of beer, enjoying the slightest hint of a buzz the shots of bourbon gave me. “He just got out of rehab and was really reconnecting with Felicity. She was thrilled to have him back in her life, and then… he just didn’t show up. It’s shocking.”
“I bet Emory wasn’t shocked,” Riggs says, his first true comment on the situation.
The fact he’s actually engaging me in serious dialogue is surprising enough, but the fact that he pegged Emory and her reaction to Shane is stunning.
“No,” I say in awe of his perception. “She wasn’t shocked at all that he didn’t show up.”
Riggs picks up his beer, nods at me. “Because she knows.”
He takes a sip.
“Knows what?” I ask.
“She knows that people with addictions are never in control. They can never be fully trusted. It takes just the slightest hiccup to throw them into a spiral and you have to be ready for it.”
I know what the hiccup he speaks of was. “It was Emory and her refusal to let him back into her life. She was all for him being a father to Felicity, but he was harboring hope they could be a family again. The day before the dance, she made sure he understood that would never happen.”