Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Wait… you left home at sixteen?” she asks, sounding both horrified and intrigued.
“You stay with a billet family. They basically provide a home for young players… like a surrogate family. I continued school and played junior hockey there. And well, my play was good and I got drafted straight into the professional league when I turned eighteen. I spent time down in the minors before getting called up to the Houston Jam, and then from there to the Titans.”
“Very impressive,” she says and lets out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could have done something like that.”
“How did you get to be so good then?” I ask before taking a bite of my sandwich.
“I lucked out into a very good coach in Buffalo and spent a lot of time at the rink. Hours and hours of practice, and I stayed long after everyone else left.”
And then it hits me… that wistful sigh. “It was an escape from your dad.”
Willa nods with a rueful smile. “It was an escape,” she confirms. “And it made me a very good skater.”
It’s fascinating how we were both athletes on the ice, mine cultivated by supportive parents who poured their hearts and souls into letting me pursue my passion. Willa became good at what she did because she spent so much time at the rink to avoid the dysfunction of her home life.
The rest of the conversation flows easily and I learn more about Brittany and Izzy coming to live with her just recently. “Brittany and I share the same bad taste in men,” she says in a moment of candor. When I tilt my head in question, she explains, “Scott was verbally abusive, just like my dad. I always told myself I’d never be with a man like that, and yet… it’s exactly where I ended up. Brittany was the same, but she never married Jeff. I think she was slightly smarter than me.”
“We’re products of our environment,” I muse. “But you’re not with Scott anymore. You broke out of that relationship, and so did Brittany.”
Willa looks pained when she admits, “True. But I’m still mad at myself for getting into that position to begin with.”
“You can’t beat yourself up about it. You should celebrate where you are now, and besides… I think our greatest growth comes in learning from our mistakes.”
She appraises me over her empty plate, offering me a crooked grin. “Awful wise for a twenty-five-year-old.”
“Hardly.” I laugh. “But I’ve got a lot of common sense, or so I’ve been told.”
The waitress brings our ticket and I nab it, even as Willa makes a play. “My treat,” I insist.
“Then it’s my treat next time,” she says but then immediately backpedals. “Not that there will be a next time. I mean, this was just a convenient grab of food while we talked scheduling.”
“There should totally be a next time,” I reply, leaning forward and crossing my arms on the table.
“To discuss hockey?” she asks tentatively, pushing for a conclusion that this is all business.
“Or a date,” I suggest, and when I get a blank stare in return, I add, “I’d like to get to know you better, Willa.”
Her eyes widen, turning a stormier gray, and then the stammering starts. “Um… wow, I mean… I’m flattered and all—”
“Unless this is a bad time for you because of your divorce? Too soon to date?”
She shakes her head, waves a hand. “No… it’s not that. I’m well over Scott and I’ve been dating. He’s nothing more than a thorn in my side that won’t go away but—”
“Unless you think I’m horribly unattractive?”
“Of course you’re attractive,” she says with an eye roll. “It’s just—”
“Unless you think you’re too good for me, you know… being a doctor and all.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she snaps. “You’re a professional athlete, revered by millions.”
“I don’t know about millions, but—”
“You’re twenty-five,” she blurts, her expression almost panicked. “You’re too young.”
“Too young to take you out to dinner, buy a meal, have a drink? I am of legal drinking age, you know. I am an adult. I own my own house, have a retirement account, teach little kids hockey. I’m a solid guy.”
I expect Willa to argue against all my points, because I could hear in the tone of her voice that the age gap is an issue. Instead, she stares at me a long moment before asking, “You’re not bothered by the fact I’m thirty-three?”
“No. Should I be?”
She purses her lips, holding back a laugh. Pointing with her index fingers, “I’ve got wrinkles right here at the corners of my eyes.”
I lean forward, squinting for a better look. “I think those are called laugh lines and I’ve got them too.”
“Mine are deeper than yours.” She huffs.
“You mean you laugh more than me?”
I’m rewarded with that musical giggle as she shakes her head, eyes shining. “You’re very confident for being so young and you flirt like a pro. How can the ladies say no to you?”