Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Damn. I was hoping that might have pulled at least a smile from her, but she needs more time. She’s still grieving and will be for a while, and I fear that me alone is not enough to get her through this.
“Alright. Well, I’ll see you later.”
Sophie gives another nod as her eyes focus on the wall behind me, right where they always stay whenever I’m around.
I get up and make my way to the bedroom door, turning back when I’m nearly at the threshold. “I love you, Sophie,” I remind her, my gaze resting on her face.
At that, she finally looks up, and I see tears pooling in her red-rimmed eyes. That beautiful gaze of hers lands heavily on me, and the darkness within her stare almost brings me to my knees. “You shouldn’t.”
Pain rocks through my chest and I shake my head, her words tearing at me like never before. “Don’t fucking say that,” I beg as I walk back into the room and drop to my knees beside the bed, taking her good hand in mine. “I love you, Sophie,” I repeat. “I don’t blame you for what happened. You must know that.”
She doesn’t answer, just lays there with tears in her eyes. Leaning forward, I press my lips to hers and wait, terrified that she won’t come back to me, but after a few agonizing seconds her lips press back against mine. I bring my hand up and run my fingers down the side of her face. “I have to go,” I murmur. “If you need me, I’ll come straight home, okay?”
She nods her head, and I wipe the tears from her eyes. “I won’t be long,” I say, getting up and heading out of the room.
I make my way around the house, collecting all my hockey gear before coming to the front door. My heart shatters as I close it behind me. I want nothing more than to be home with Sophie, grieving with her and making things better. But unfortunately, this is just a requirement of being a professional athlete. I have no choice unless I want to lose my contract. Don’t get me wrong, Coach Larsden has given me what little time he could, but there’s only so far he can push the limits of my contract.
Getting in my truck, I sit in silence before finally starting her up and getting my ass to the ice rink. I drive as slow as possible, trying to prolong the inevitable. Pulling up in the athletes’ private parking lot, I’m not surprised to see the ocean of fans waiting outside the doors, trying to get a good look at their favorite player on the first official day of training.
I lug my training gear out of my truck and walk up the sidewalk, listening to the throng of people calling out my name and requesting autographs. Usually I would stop, but today it doesn’t feel right.
I notice a few people calling over the crowd, asking about Sophie, but I try my best to ignore it. I can’t have the replay of Sophie’s injuries and our loss floating around in my mind while I’m training. I need to focus. Need to keep my head in the game.
As I make my way through the throng of people, I notice Crazy Jill reaching out to touch me, but I don’t have it in me to show her any kind of attention. I push past her, but what does she expect? She takes it too far. Sure, I’m pleased she’s such an avid fan and comes out to support us, but the messages and phone calls? I can’t deal with it today.
I finally break through the crowd and into the silence of the closed ice rink. Well, mostly silence. The figure skaters are finishing up their session, so the place is filled with feminine gossip and chatter while the Zamboni putts around the ice, creating a smooth, slick surface for me and my boys.
I head past the girls, who are just getting started on their off-ice workouts, and I’m thankful that they seem to be getting shit done in a timely manner today. My boys don’t need the distraction of a bunch of chicks ogling them while they’re trying to train.
Pushing my way through the heavy door of the locker room, I instantly feel the pitying stares of my teammates on me, and I do what I can to tune them out. I go about my business, trying my best to ignore them when Cameron finally speaks up for the group.
“Hey, man,” he starts, a slight hesitation in his tone. “How’s our girl doing?”
Our girl? She’s my fucking girl, bastard.
I turn to face him, not really wanting to talk about it, but I know this is different. I notice I have every single eye in the room on me, including Miller’s, but these guys sincerely want to know how she’s doing, unlike the prying, curious minds of the fans from outside. These guys are my teammates, my friends, and more importantly, they’re my family. These boys are always ready and willing to support one another when it’s needed, so I shouldn’t have expected anything different.