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)
“That so?” he asks with a smirk.
“Yeah, that is so. And I’ll be damned if I throw it away for them,” I tell him and look around, then lean in. “Bottom line, at the end of all this, I’m planning on making Zoe mine if she’ll have me.”
“What makes you think she’ll want you?” he asks me seriously, and I think about how I should answer this.
“I pray that she will want me,” I tell him honestly. “Every single night, it’s the first thing I ask for, and I know I don’t have any right to ask for or expect anything, but if I get anything in my whole life, it will be her love.”
“What if she’s in love with someone else?” And the pain is there again, the pressure pushing down on my chest like a herd of elephants stomping their feet.
“If she loves someone else and she’s happy, then I have to give her that.” I swallow, and it feels like I have a whole mouth full of nails. “I want her to be happy, and if it’s without me, when she deserves that, then I just walk away and give it to her.”
“How hard was that to say?” he asks me.
“I felt like I was swallowing nails,” I answer him honestly. “Is she dating?” I finally ask him about her. I don’t even know I’m holding my breath while I wait for him to answer. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes out his phone and turns it to me, and I see that it’s him in the middle of his sisters.
“That was taken at the baby shower,” he tells me, and I know because I have the picture saved on my phone of her in that dress. He swipes to the side, and then she’s there again, this time with Alex on her hip. “She puts on a good front,” he says, looking at the picture again. “So to answer your question, no, she isn’t dating.”
I nod and slowly let out the breath I’ve been holding, my heart starting to beat semi normal again. “Can’t say I’m sad about that news.”
He lets out a huge laugh. “Well, said,” he says, and for the rest of the plane ride, we talk about all the teams trailing us in the standings. It’s nighttime when we land but when we get off the plane, it’s hot and just a touch muggy.
When I get dressed to go to the arena, I do it with my head held high and my shoulders back. It’s the first time I’ve been back since I’ve been traded, and I honestly don’t know what to expect. It’s always weird coming back to the arena that made you into that hockey player and then made you into the drug addict. It’s where I started to do most of my drugs while I chased the high. I think back to the times I played high, and I’m still shocked that it took them that long to figure it out. I step onto the bus on the way to the arena, and all I can do is look out the window and replay in my head everything that has happened since I left. It’s not as scary as it was the first time or the second time; it’s easier, and the road is lighter.
I walk off the bus after Matthew and Max. Evan is behind me, and I spot the reporters right away with their cameras rolling. I know this will be playing on SportsCenter for the next twenty-four hours, but I’m not walking down the dark concrete by myself, no not with this team. I walk down next to Matthew on my right side and Evan on my left and Max beside Matthew. A united front, a team, a family. “Hey, Viktor.” I hear one of the camera guys say, and I just look ahead to the brown metal door that I’ve walked into a thousand times before, but this time, when I walk in, I walk to the opposite end of the hallway.
When we walk into the bleak dressing room, I look around. “My room in rehab was nicer than this,” I joke with Evan, who laughs. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly and go to my seat. Taking off my jacket, I start getting my exercise shit out. “I need to run,” I tell Evan who is on his phone.
“Whatever you do, don’t fucking wear yourself out,” he says, looking up for a second and then down again. “We need to win.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” I say and get ready to run on the treadmill. I’m by myself for most of it and then a couple of the guys come in while I’m walking to cool down. The music blares as we get dressed, and Matthew has closed off the room for reporters. The only one allowed in has a three-minute slot to walk in and just do a camera shot. Not surprisingly, the camera stayed on me as I was getting ready. I blocked it out, I blocked it all out, and the only thing I had in my head was going out there and winning.