Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 18476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Not rolling my eyes is impossible.
“I’ve done more with less.”
“I don’t wanna hear about it.”
“Ya sure?” His credit card shifts from his possession to mine. “I ain’t above swappin’ whore stories if you aren’t.”
“War stories, puck head.”
“Not in my part of the barn…” he slyly insists on a waggle of the eyebrows, while backing away towards the woman he’s determined to go see.
Is it wrong to hope she does more than Jill Frost nip at his nose?
Maybe a good jolly punch instead?
He’s overdue for some much needed drop the gloves contact.
Before I can change my mind, my little brother has disappeared around the corner, out of sight, leaving me to move the contents of the overflowing cart onto the countertop – now that it’s our turn – all on my own.
Thank fuck he treats his teammates better than this in the rink or he would’ve been traded again a long time ago.
Aside from the think with his dick first behavior he’s currently displaying, having him here in Dalvegan steadily for the past five years has been fucking incredible. The amount of time we’ve gotten to spend together and the relationship we’ve actually been able to build is shit I don’t take for granted. Sure, being able to see him constantly play – he’s a helluva D man – fills me with pride, but finally, being able to support him the way a big brother should, because I’m not deployed or tracking kidnapped toddlers through the Blue Ridge Mountains, is what I’m most thankful for.
Pushing him at the gym?
Joining him for long runs on cardio day?
Having him over for a beer to talk about contract numbers with me and Arley pre discussing it with his agent?
I love that shit too.
I love it all.
I love getting to be that type of brother.
Just like I love getting to be that type of Dad.
The type that lets them have ice cream for breakfast because they miss Mommy who had an early in-office meeting.
The type that practices soccer drills for hours in the backyard with one daughter then spends the next two gluing jewels or sparkles on clothes for their stuffed animals with the other because despite being twins their interests are often polar opposites.
Truth is…having them in a private preschool academy this year has been killing me.
I think we should be able to have a late fort building night when Daddy gets back from training in Peru, not barely be able to squeeze in time to read one extra book before bed because they’ve got school in the morning.
I thought we had more time before we hit this phase of their lives.
The magnitude of exactly what I’m missing is finally starting to kick in lately.
That could be why I’m so determined to get Kolby to spend more time with them.
And why I may be going a little overboard with gifts this year.
Logic says one Princess Castle play tent is enough while instinct says they definitely need two.
One for each girl.
One for each personality.
Although knowing them, they’re gonna beg me to finagle it so that it’s a double wide tent where they don’t have to be apart.
They prefer to be where the other is or at the very least where they can see the other.
Even when one is outside chasing dogs around and one is crafting.
She’s still doing it within visual range, wordlessly telling her sister no matter where they are, she’s got her back.
Not sure we taught them that.
But not so sure that we didn’t.
Getting the never-ending number of gifts onto the checkout space goes a little faster than I anticipated, and thanks to the minor guilt I harbor over just how much shit there is to bag, I take on the responsibility to further speed up the process, not wanting to inconvenience others the way my brother has inconvenienced me.
Not to mention our holiday festivities.
Nochebuena isn’t just Angel Cake’s favorite time of the year anymore.
It’s our daughters.
And strangely enough my in-laws as well.
All of them.
Everyone gathers at my parents’ ranch – Ma and my stepfather Tom, who she married about six months into their relationship – for a huge celebration. We’re talking all of Arley’s brothers, their wives, their children, my dad, stepmom, little brother, plus our friends on the occasion like Blu and his family as well as Reynolds and his. Hell, even Seventeen and his wife joined us one year. It’s loud and colorful and everyone eats their weight in tamales – kids included. There are outdoor activities – like feeding actual reindeer this year because Tom’s last name might as well be fucking McDonald – indoor activities – like decorating freshly baked gingerbread houses or people – and grown up only activities – drinking alcoholic ponche navideño while playing adult themed boardgames. Besides the amount of people and the place where we celebrate changing, our service attendance time has changed too. From a spiritual point, it’s important to Ma that we still have that togetherness, so Arley and I go to an early service with her and Tom, while the girls stay behind to play with their cousins.