Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“I said, come with me,” the man says, reaching for me again.
“Don’t hurt my mommy,” Chase shouts, clinging to my leg as he bursts into tears. “Don’t hurt her!”
“I’m not hurting anyone, but your mommy broke the rules and there are consequences,” the guard says, raising his voice to be heard over Chase’s sobs. I scoop my son into my arms as Security Guard Dickface moves even closer.
Soon, my only choice to get away from him will be to dart back into the stall and lock the door.
I’m considering it when the old man says, “Oh, come on. Give her a break, I guess. I didn’t mean to make the kid cry.”
“Rules are rules,” the guard repeats, reaching for me again.
To my surprise, Chase reaches out, slapping the man’s hand hard enough to send a loud smacking sound echoing through the mostly empty bathroom. I gasp, my eyes going wide as I clutch him closer and the old man shouts, “Attaboy! That’s how you stand up for your mama. Run, lady, I’ll take care of this.”
A beat later, the old man is on the guard’s back, one scrawny arm wrapped around his neck. Not waiting to see who’s going to win the battle, I clasp Chase closer and dash for the exit.
But I don’t head for the ladies’ room to wash our hands. We’ll just have to make do with hand sanitizer from my purse as I jog back toward our seats. It’s too early to head for the locker room—the monitors won’t let us into the family waiting room until all the players are through—and it seems like a good idea to be around friends right now, and not at the top of the stairs where the guard can see us. Surely, if the scary security guard tracks us down, the older couple behind us will vouch for our excellent behavior during the game.
But we don’t make it to our seats. We’re barely down the first few stairs when a massive hand closes around my upper arm.
“No! Don’t touch my mama! Bad touch!” Chase shouts, sending every head in our vicinity whipping our way.
The guard grunts. “Your mama is getting a citation for breaking the rules and you’re both leaving the arena. Actions have consequences.”
“Please, just let us go back to our seats,” I beg, my cheeks flushing as more and more people turn to watch the confrontation. “We didn’t—” I wince, my words cutting off as he squeezes my arm tighter.
“Bad touch!” Chase shouts again, slapping the guard’s arm over my shoulder.
“Control your brat,” he growls, summoning a shocked gasp from two women nearby.
One turns to her husband. The other shouts, “Get your hands off of her, asshole. What the hell is wrong with you?”
I’m dimly aware of more murmurs of dismay rippling through the crowd, but the jerk towering over me refuses to let go, Chase is still hitting his arm, and I’m starting to lose my balance on the stairs. “Please,” I shout. “I’m pregnant. If I fall, I could lose the baby.”
And I swear, half the arena goes still. The guard lets me go and for some reason, my attention jerks up to the jumbotron, my stomach sinking as I see my own flushed and frightened face blown up to five times its normal size. A beat later, I feel the stairs quaking beneath my feet as something massive pounds up the bleachers behind me.
Fear clutching at my throat, I spin, prepared to tell Aaron not to start something with this man, but it isn’t Aaron who’s jumped into the stands. It’s Jimmy Kriecheque, his archnemesis, who’s currently charging up the stairs in his skates, looking ready to draw blood.
“Out of the way, Aaron’s wife!” he shouts, and though I am not Aaron’s wife, I happily take several steps backward, giving the angry Viking room to do his worst.
The security guard’s eyes fly open wide. He turns as if to dash up the stairs, but before he can take so much as a step backward, Kriecheque is on him, tackling him onto the stairs and slamming a thick arm across his neck. “You don’t lay hands on a woman half your size, fuckface. Especially when she’s holding her kid.”
“And she’s pregnant,” the woman who shouted at the guard calls out in a voice that carries.
Apparently, it carries all the way down to the ice, where play has now stopped and both teams are turned, watching the drama in the stands. Aaron’s eyes meet mine and his lips part in a mixture of rage and wonder. I nod and smile, tears stinging into my eyes as his beams up at me with a look of joy so pure and perfect, I can’t even be mad that he learned the big news from someone other than me.
He starts to skate toward me, but one of the refs stops him with hands on his chest, clearly not about to let another rogue player into the stands.