Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Aubrey looks so proud, it’s sexy.
“I can do trip research too, Plant Daddy,” she says to Ledger with a lift of her chin, all her attention on him.
Pride suffuses me too. She pulled this off, and it’s damn fun to watch her shine.
He turns his gaze away from the buds and blooms, focusing only on her. “I’m never leaving.” It comes out serious.
She jerks back, maybe surprised by the intensity of his remark. Me too. It’s said in a soul-deep way.
It’s clear that he’s touched. Like an eager explorer, he strides into the plant shop.
We follow, and I draw a deep inhale once inside. The air is cool and sort of refreshing. “Why does the air seem different?”
Ledger tosses a glance my way as he stops at a potted plant with tall stems and oval-shaped leaves. The name next to it reads Chinese money plant. “Photosynthesis, dude,” Ledger says, like it’s magic.
I roll my eyes, but the truth is I’m intrigued. “I mean, yeah. But really?”
There’s no joking or ribbing in his tone when he says, “They purify the air. Plants remove pollutants from it.”
When he says that, of course it makes perfect sense now. I snap my fingers. “Right, that was like biology class and shit? Did we learn that in school?” I ask, making light of my studies even though I was an A student. I like to be good at things. But I haven’t given plants much thought.
As Ledger peruses the snake plants like he’s an archaeology professor let loose in an ancient museum, he adds, “I bet your parents recommend plants to their clients. There are studies showing that they reduce anxiety. They also make you happier.”
I’m about to ask what’s his excuse for the sullen moods he gets now and then, but I’d be a dick if I said that. Besides, maybe he’d be grumpier if he wasn’t a plant daddy. Yeah. That makes sense. Plants are his natural painkillers.
He wouldn’t want me to make a joke about that, so I say, “Cool info. I think you just gave a Daily Dose of Good.”
He growls, narrowing his eyes. “I did not.”
“You did too,” Aubrey says, like she’s caught him in the act. “Plants are your Daily Dose of Good. Admit it.”
Ledger narrows his eyes, wags a finger at both of us. “I don’t believe in that.”
“Right. Sure,” I say as we walk past a cactus. “Here. It’s you in plant form.”
Ledger rolls his eyes.
Aubrey smiles. “You’re a little prickly, Ledger.”
“Am not,” he counters.
“You are,” she says, and he harrumphs as a lanky man sporting messy black hair and trendy plaid pants emerges from a back room. A Japanese flag hangs behind the counter next to a Canadian flag. The man spots us and says, “Welcome to Plant Parenthood. Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
“I’d love some help,” Ledger says, then heads off, leaving me alone with Aubrey, who’s studying a shelf of small house plants.
“Maybe when I return to San Francisco I’ll buy some plants for my booth,” she says as she checks out a Boston fern.
“That one is boring. Get a money tree instead.”
“I’ll put it on my to-do list after…” She stops, blinks, then says, her tone a little heavier, “…this trip.”
I don’t want to think about the end either. “Good plan.”
“What about you? Will you get one?”
Me? Nah. I’m not a plant guy. But is that the real issue? “I don’t know if I could take care of one when I’m on the road. Hockey is pretty demanding.”
That demand is going to start next week at training camp. My fingers tingle at the thought of getting back on the ice.
“You could just get a plant sitter,” she offers.
That’s a valid idea, but here’s another one. A dangerous one. One where I almost say something like “Or maybe you could take care of them when I go out of town and then we will see you when we return?”
But that is not, not going to happen.
This ends when the trip ends.
I dodge the topic, turning it back around. “Do these plants make you happy?”
She considers the money tree some more, running her polished nails along its leaves. “I think they could. They’re like a mango smoothie. The contented sigh of a dog. A good haircut. Getting your nails done. Going shopping with friends and finding a great discount. Listening to a song that just feels like it moves your soul. I think all of those things do it.” She drops her hand from the plant with a happy sigh and turns to me. “What about you? What makes you happy?”
Improving my stats as a goalie like—shots against and save percentage. Not to mention winning it all.
But also, this second.
The problem is I keep thinking about next week, too, and the antsy feeling that kicks in when the season nears. The urge to skate. To spend my time on the ice, to work out harder, faster, better. The tingle in my fingers. The buzzing in my bones.