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)
My throat tightens. I know what it’s like to carry that kind of weight, whether someone hands it to you or you take it on yourself. “I’m glad,” I say, leaving the dad comment untouched.
“It really is.” She pauses, her brow scrunching like she’s debating something. “Your dad…is he—”
I shake my head, fighting the latent anger, resentment, and, yep, grief that still swims up when I think of him. “He took off with barely a word when I was twelve. Didn’t hear from him at all during high school,” I say, then swallow past the ancient hurt. “He died when I was seventeen.”
“Oh, Miles,” she says, her voice hitching. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it sucked. And…thanks.” What sucks the most—which I don’t say—is that I never got to ask him why he left, why he told me to be the man of the house, why we weren’t enough for him to stay.
But the world only spins forward, so l keep moving on.
I switch gears. “Your mom’s still around? Do you see her?”
Her smile seems forced as she says, “Usually only if she wants me to take photos of her or whatever her new handbag line is.”
“Ouch.”
“Yup,” she says. “And if I don’t want to take pics, she’s excellent at passive-aggressively pointing out how I’ll make time for other things. Like myself, and my dad, and my sister. Ironic.”
“That sucks,” I say with a sympathetic sigh.
“It does. But I try not to let it bug me,” she says.
“I hear you. I do the same. To try to let go of the things I can’t control.”
“You get it,” she says. Understanding passes between us as we hold each other’s gazes. I can see some of what drives her independence. And I suppose she now knows more about me than she did before.
Leighton points to the half-eaten pastry and the crumbs of our enjoyment scattered all over the plate. “I like not choosing between caramel and toffee.”
“She’s got a lemon raspberry cake too.” I want to ask her to come back and try it with me. As friends. But I’d only be using friendship to cover up the date I wish we were having.
After we leave, I send her my address, as I’d said I would. But deep down, I’m hoping someday she’ll wander past my home.
The weights clank as I set down my dumbbells during that afternoon’s workout. On the bench, Tyler pushes through another set and then sits up, a resolute grin on his bearded face. The dude loves working out and always has.
“So, how’s the adjustment going?” I ask. He’s only been here a week, and he’s had the kids most of the time, so he’s had a lot to juggle. “Settling in okay?”
Tyler nods, grabbing a towel and wiping the back of his neck. “For the most part. Agatha just arrived, so that’s good.” Agatha is the kids’ nanny—an older woman who’s worked for him since his ex went back to college. “And Elle—she’s doing well in med school. I think she likes the change—new city, fresh start.”
I get that. I desperately needed that feeling when I moved here. “Seems like things are coming together.”
He runs a hand through his hair, which is longer than mine now. “Just gotta, you know, play good hockey for a new team. No big deal.”
“Right, no pressure,” I deadpan, grabbing a heavier set of weights. “I mean, you only have to live up to my impressive stats. And that’s not easy.”
Tyler smirks, tossing his towel at me. “You’ll be thanking me when I’m carrying you through the season.”
I snag the towel and fling it back. “Oh, you think you’re carrying the team? I was here first. Makes me the better Falcon.”
Tyler raises an eyebrow. “Better? You mean…older?”
“Oh, please.” I flex in mock confidence before I lift the weights. “I’m in my prime.”
He shakes his head, grinning. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
“I fucking will. Especially tomorrow when we start,” I say, already feeling the thrill of stepping back on the ice.
I’m ready to make this year my best yet. Especially with Leighton there to capture it all.
Maybe, possibly, that’s why I switch to even heavier weights. Well, there’s a good chance she’ll see me shirtless.
18
THE MILES FACTOR
Leighton
Even though I’m not Riley’s third parent, I like to steal as much time with her as I can. Since her school starts late on Wednesdays, we grab a lychee bubble tea for her and tea for me before the first bell at school, and before I’m due at the Sea Dogs arena.
As we walk toward Harris Academy on the outskirts of Japantown, the streets dotted with cherry blossom motifs on banners, I ask about her classes. “How’s chemistry treating you?”
“Nope,” she denies me, grinning. “We’re chatting about you. It’s my turn. I have advice for you.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, you do, missy?”