Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Cute broadskie.
Terrible at her job.
Hennington’s cracked door is a bit of a surprise; however, I still hesitate to just barge right in.
I wouldn’t put it past her to throw a stapler at me in self-defense of an unknown intruder.
“Stroll’s recommends for callups are solid from a stats standpoint,” I overhear Coach say in a drained tone, “but I haven’t had time to really review their footage. Yeah, I’ve seen it. I know whose developing better than others, but with everything going on this season, I haven’t had a chance to really pull at those layers. And it’s not that I don’t trust the man to do his job – he’s leading our team across the league – it’s just that I don’t know enough to choose from his choices who to move here without completely fucking up what they have down there.”
Two rasps precede me entering the room and suggesting, “Ask The Rookie.”
Two sets of curious stares instantly swing in my direction.
“Peck put in most of his pre-season training with them. He can probably give you the shit you won’t see on a screen.”
The owner casually leans back in her seat displaying her black lacy top – that looks more like a fancy sports bra – and an unexpectedly wide grin. “Top cheddar idea, Cap.” The smile grows. “That’s why the boys want you wearin’ the C.”
Her vote of confidence momentarily stuns me silent.
She’s in a better mood than I expected.
This almost feels too good to be true.
Like when everything is going perfect in a book and then they drop a bombshell in the middle of the shit to fuck up all your emotions for the sake of their twisted author amusement…or…for plot purposes, I guess.
Who knows?
Maybe she got fucking laid.
I had a helluva attitude adjustment after I finally did.
Coach shoves one hand in his workout pants bottoms. “Whatdya need, Cap? Problem on dry land?”
“Net. I uh…” fidgeting with the strap to my bag causes the new keychain to flop around, “I need you to scratch me for the next couple of games.”
His head cocks in obvious confusion. “What?”
“I know they’re on the roadskie, I know we’re in that stretch, and I’ll even book my own fucking plane ticket to get to the third one, but I need to be here for a few days. Family emergency.”
“Ohmygod, is it Bella?!” Hennington doesn’t hesitate to lean forward in worry. “Did something happen to your daughter?!”
“Not exactly.” My searching for the right phrase is done on a side-to-side head bounce. “But I need to take care of this for her. Fuck…for me.” Courage to stand taller is brought on by the echoing of my father’s words in the back of my mind. “I need to make sure my family knows that despite what the crest on my tarp requires, I can be there for them too. That they fucking matter. That if they need my blood, sweat, and tears, they can have ‘em, whether it’s the middle of the fucking season or summer.”
Against his own volition Blanc begins to smile, but to my surprise, it’s our GM that actually asserts, “You have two families, Eeyore. And it’s crucial you learn how to show up for them both.”
Yet again shock seizes my ability to speak.
“I get it.” Her back slams into the seat on an almost adoring sigh. “I kind of hate myself for getting it but…” the small shrug that greets me is warm, “I fucking get it.”
“You can’t lead the boys to a fucking ship if your head’s not in the game,” Coach backs as his other hand dives into his pocket. “It almost cost us a dub last night.”
“A big dub,” Hot Rocket echoes. “In our fucking barn.”
“Da…” New shame skates around my expression. “And I don’t wanna repeat that shit. I’m asking you to scratch me so that I won’t. You want me to keep taking care of our family on the ice? Then I need some time to take care of the one I’ve got off it.”
The two of them momentarily lock eyes with one another, which is when Coach states, “Our standings can probably take it. We’re second in the division and sixth in the league. Pulling up an extra D won’t hurt because they’re already a little D heavy-”
“We may need to balance that shit out before playoffs. We need goals, not just stops. And since we’re not planning shit for the deadline, we should be working on how to fix that.”
“Agreed. And I agree scratching Eeyore to get his head straight will prevent him from making the same mistakes he made last night. We all know you don’t actually wanna cut him from the club. Whether or not you’ll admit, you want him here. You need him here.”
“You’re right.” She viciously beams. “I won’t admit that.”