Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
“Let’s go, Daddy!” she screamed, and damn it if my heart didn’t melt into a puddle. This kid was so cute it hurt, and the way she loved her father… I knew he was the end all, be all in her eyes.
I was quiet most of the first period, mostly taking in the experience and trying to follow as best I could. I’d never watched a game of hockey in my life, never really watched any sport, to be honest, and I found myself taking my cues from Ava.
If she cheered, I did, too.
If she groaned and booed, so did I.
And if she growled in frustration, shaking the stuffed fish in her hands like she wanted to strangle it, I tried not to laugh and failed every time.
We got up long enough for both of us to use the restroom and get some popcorn during the first intermission. No one had scored yet. When we sat back down, I finally asked her, “So, what’s with the fish?”
I tapped the ugly thing on the tail, and Ava shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth before shrugging.
“It’s for when we win.”
“When we win, huh? What happens then?”
“We throw the fish on the ice.”
I blinked, sure I’d misheard her, but she didn’t so much as glance my way with the statement. She was watching where they were doing some sort of game with a fan in the stands as the Zambonis smoothed the ice.
“Why?”
Ava frowned a little then. “I dunno. Daddy said it used to be real fish, but that got stinky. So now we throw fluffy fish.”
I was even more confused. Fortunately, a fan just above me leaned down and explained, “It’s an offering to the Osprey. She’s right — it did used to be real fish in the beginning. But several years ago, it shifted to toys. The team donates the stuffed animals to local shelters and kids in need.”
I offered the man a thank you before turning back to Ava with a light bulb going off.
She loved hockey, loved this team.
Maybe this was a way to get her talking more, to get her to open up a bit.
The game started up again, and I waited until a whistle blew before I leaned over to Ava. “So, what’s going on? Why did the guy in the stripes blow the whistle?”
“He’s the referee,” she said, singing the words in an almost exhausted tone. “They were offside.”
“What does that mean?”
She looked up at me then, blinking. “You don’t know what offside means?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what any of this means,” I said, leaning in and whispering like it was a secret confession just for her. “Think you could help me understand? I don’t want to look silly.”
At that, Ava’s eyes widened even more, and she nodded emphatically. “Don’t worry. Daddy had to teach me, too.”
“So now you can teach me?”
“It’s like we’re switching places!”
“It is,” I agreed with a grin, tapping her nose. “It’s a good thing we have each other, huh?”
At that, her little brows tugged inward, and she grew quiet, nodding.
But then a fight broke out on the ice, and she grabbed me by the sleeve and tugged me down to her level to explain why.
If You Want
Chloe
After the game, Maven and Livia led the way to the area where friends and family waited for the players — and it was absolute chaos.
Wives and partners of the players were everywhere, along with various family members and a bunch of kids running around. It felt like my classroom on Halloween.
The Ospreys had pulled out a win, scoring two goals to our opponents’ one, and Ava had heaved her fish with all her might… only to have it land in the section below us.
Fortunately, it seemed all the fans were used to this. Fish went flying the way hats would during a hat trick — a fact Ava taught me halfway through the third period — and if one landed by you, you picked it up and threw it yourself until it made it to its intended destination.
I had to admit, it was quite a spectacle.
Although nothing was as fun to watch tonight as Will having more than two-dozen saves — another term I’d learned from his daughter.
It had been addicting, seeing how determined and focused he was on the ice. I watched him block shot after shot, most of which I felt were impossible to fend off, but he made it look effortless. Whether he had to block the puck with his torso, an extended leg, or his gloved hand — he found a way.
He only let one shot get past him, and I could tell by the way he shrugged off his teammates’ assurance that it was fine that it completely pissed him off.
That man. He demanded perfection of himself.