Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
As I’m striding across the stage at a fancy hotel in the city, the color commentator for our broadcast partner touts my stats, then talks up my love of hiking, playing pool, and my affection for my hometown of Seattle. But when I spot Leighton, off to the side in the front row, snapping pictures, I falter, pausing for a step.
I do my best to tear my gaze away, and when the emcee mentions I like urban treasure hunts, my chest tightens. I know I won’t be taking the winner geocaching on a date.
When a woman bids sixty-five thousand dollars on me and wins, I figure that’s good money for a good cause. But something about it feels wrong, especially when Leighton turns her gaze away instantly.
At the end of the auction, after I’ve given Everly my info for the winner, she says, “We need a pic with you and the winner.”
Natasha, the woman who won, tells me how much she loves the Sea Dogs, how excited she is, how she’s followed my career from the start, and how glad she is that this team picked me up. She’s nice—really, she is. And she’s not the coach’s daughter.
But I still feel like a piece of crap when Leighton takes our photo backstage. She’s all business, entirely unreadable as she takes the pictures for socials.
“Thank you, Miles. Thank you, Natasha,” Leighton says, then spins on her heel and heads off. But she’s wearing those earrings—and that bracelet.
I can’t read her, but it feels vitally important that she knows my mind. I’m not even sure why, but maybe it’s this pressure in my chest. Maybe I can let go of it if I just…say something.
I loosen my tie but don’t head for the parking garage. I march down the hallway, searching for her, and catch her as she’s leaving the hotel. In the quiet hallway, I say her name but she must not hear me so I reach out and grab her arm. She startles.
“Sorry,” I say, looking around. Coast is clear. “I wasn’t loud enough.” I feel bad now.
“It’s okay,” she says, then shrugs like she’s saying it happens.
But I don’t want it to happen with me. I’ll have to do better with communication with her—make sure I’m speaking at a reasonable volume for her. But I also want to communicate well in this way. “I don’t want to go on a date with her,” I say because it feels important that Leighton knows where I stand.
She gives a resigned smile. “You should, though, Miles.”
My jaw clenches. I want her to be as annoyed as I am. I want to know she can’t stop thinking about me either. I want to know our one date fucked her up too. And I also want her to be happy. I drag a hand through my hair. “I’m not going to,” I repeat.
“She won a date. You should.” She sounds like she legit means it.
“I won’t like it,” I say.
“Maybe you should try.”
“What about you? Are you trying?” The words spill out before I can stop them.
“Are you asking if I’m seeing someone?”
The thought that she might be makes me want to throttle…well, the world. “Are you?” It’s like eating nails.
Gently, she shakes her head. “I’m not.”
“Me neither.” I don’t even know why this matters—we can’t be together. But maybe I can get the closure I need if I admit it to her. “I’m still hung up on someone else.”
I feel lighter. And then entirely thrilled when she says, “Same here.”
A couple weeks later, in February, I go on the date with Natasha, and we talk about hockey the whole time. It’s completely platonic—so platonic that I break my no-texting rule.
Miles: It wasn’t like going out with you.
Leighton: Good.
I try, I swear I try, to forget her. It would be easier if I didn’t see her at a game next month, hanging out with Asher’s temporary wife, Maeve. She’s become friends with Maeve, as well as Everly, who’s now with Max officially. So Leighton’s around more. I see her more.
During warm-ups, I catch myself staring at her, wondering what it’d be like if she were here to see me play. Asher catches me and gives me a look that says “Are you going to keep doing that?”
It’s a valid question and the answer really should be no.
And it mostly is no, until the end of the summer when I get a text from Asher inviting me to his wedding party. He and Maeve accidentally got married after the player auction and stayed married, falling in love for real over the last several months.
Now Maeve’s aunt is hosting an official party for friends and family.
Including Leighton. And the whole team. Which means Coach will be there.
I almost don’t go. But after one year in human years and seven in hockey-player-dog years, this will be my proof that I can handle it. I’ll go to this party and finally put her behind me for good.