Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
The next day, I hit up the gym knowing that no one will be in since it’s Evan and Zara’s baby shower. They both invited me, but I kindly declined and sent a gift anyway. There was no way I could take being in a room with Zoe and not going to her to make sure she was okay. To make sure she knew she didn’t have to love me for both of us, and I would do everything and anything in my power to do that for her. But it wasn’t time yet. I have to do it right. I have to do all the steps right, and then I hope that, in the end, she accepts me with all my pieces put back together. Will they all ever be fully back together? I fucking hope so.
That night, I scroll through Instagram and see that Zara put up some pictures from today. There is one with all the girls and then one of her and Zoe. Like the creep I am, I zoom in on Zoe and her smile and save the picture.
I get a text from Zara, and when I open it, my heart stops as I read it.
Zara: Thank you so much for the Gucci diaper bag with matching outfits. The baby will be styling. Thought you would like to see a picture of her smiling.
Then she attached a picture of just Zoe looking at something, and her head is thrown back and she’s laughing. I smile and rub my finger on it. “Soon.” I turn off the light and head to bed, leaving her picture on my phone.
The nights are getting easier; the pull toward the darkness dimmer every single day. It’s a cycle, everyday getting up only to cross off another day on the calendar. We will be on the road for twelve days. Our longest one to date.
Getting to the arena for tonight’s game, everyone is in high spirts. I laugh to myself because three days into the road trip and everyone will be bitching to each other about not being home.
The road trip is even worse than I thought. It only took two days before everyone started to get irritated. And it didn’t help that we lost the first two games on the road. I spent most days either on the ice or in the gym.
Two days before we head home, everyone is hurting. “Can we just play a game without it becoming a wrestling match?” one of the rookies asks.
“That’s what happens when you’re in the run for the playoffs. Every single point counts,” I tell him, walking up the stairs to the plane and sitting in my seat. Next stop is LA. Before, I would be nervous and anxious, and I still am, except this time I’m nervous that I’ll fuck up by killing one of those fuckers on the ice. I’m not nervous that I might slip this time. No, this time I know I won’t slip. For once in my life, I have something good—something that no amount of money or getting high can get me—and I’m not going to lose it.
I sit in my seat, not expecting anyone to sit next to me only because we usually spread out, but Matthew sits in the chair next to me. I look over at him, but he doesn’t say anything, and the plane takes off.
“So what’s going on?” Matthew starts the awkward conversation. There is a lot to be said about Matthew but beating around the bush isn’t one of them.
“You should just come out and ask what you need to ask or say what you need to say.” I laugh. “For both our sakes.”
“Karrie says I need to be more approachable,” he says, scratching his neck. “This is me trying.”
“Don’t tell Karrie, but you suck at it,” I tell him. “Now what do you really want to ask?”
“Is being in LA going to be a problem?” he asks me, and I look at him, turning in my seat.
“That’s a loaded question,” I tell him. “If you are asking if I think I might slip and it becomes a scene like it was in New York, the answer is no. Without a second thought.” I look at him straight in the eye. “If you’re asking if I’m going to bring my A game, the answer again is yes.”
“That’s good to hear.” He puts his head back on the rest and crosses his hands.
I lean back in my seat and turn to look at him. “I also won’t hesitate to drop the gloves if one of them even looks at me sideways.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he says.
“Just laying it all out there for you,” I tell him, laughing, and I feel like something has lifted from my shoulders. “I have too much to lose.”