Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Fine,” he snapped. “I give you my word. Now give me your word on Bob.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I promise to keep it professional with Bob.”
There was a flicker of something in Wes’s eyes before he said, “And my teammates.”
I recoiled. “Your teammates? Are you fucking serious? You think I’m trying to get with one of your teammates? I don’t even know their names. I can hardly keep my head above water with the kids and my work and trying to shower every day, so the last thing on my mind is hooking up with one of your teammates.”
He gave me a satisfied look. “Then maybe you know how I feel, because I’m in the same boat, Hadley. I’m just trying to keep up with hockey and the kids.”
I reluctantly sighed. “Okay, that’s a fair point.”
He looked at his watch and said, “Let’s go make Tori an offer. I have to get to practice.”
“Hey.” I sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I know what you must think of me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I just want to do the best we can for the kids, okay? That matters more than anything right now.”
I nodded. “You’re right.”
“Things are gonna be better now that you’ll have more help.”
I felt like even more of an asshole now. I’d been bitchy to Wes, but he was still being nice to me. I squared my shoulders and smiled.
“Yeah, you’re right.” But the smile slid away as I said, “If I could only call her…Lauren, I mean. I think that so many times every day. If I could just hear her voice for even a few seconds, telling me that I can do this…” My throat tightened and I looked away.
“I know, Hadley,” Wes said softly. “Me too.”
I didn’t have Lauren, though, and I’d never have her again. It still hurt like nothing ever had before. And not only did I have to find a way to get myself through this, I had to get Lauren’s children through it, too.
Chapter Seven
Wes
Despite the insanity going on at home, I’d been doing my damnedest to get my head out of my ass on the ice. It wasn’t just me, though. The whole team was in mourning, one way or another. Ben hadn’t just been our team captain; he’d been our friend. Every team had a captain, and I’d played on other teams with other captains but none of them had ever been like Benjamin Whitmer—smart, funny, and empathetic. That last one wasn’t a word most professional athletes used much, but it applied to Ben in spades. It was what made him the best friend a guy could ask for, a great husband and father, and the most incredible team captain I’d ever played with.
Without his presence in the locker room, we were floundering. When it came to on-ice stuff, like talking to the refs and the mundane bullshit that was part of the game, we were fine. Nash and I could handle that. What we didn’t have was the love and respect of everyone in the room. Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate—there was a lot of love and respect between the majority of us in general—but we didn’t command the same respect Ben had. And somehow, I had to get there. Maybe not to the same level, because I wasn’t trying to replace him, but someone had to replace the role he’d played. We still hadn’t won a game, and if this kept up, we’d break the record for the most losses in a row.
Tonight’s game was against Washington and they were hot right now, on a badass winning streak, chasing us for first place overall in the league. We’d been so far ahead in rankings when Ben died. We were still in first, but only by two points. A loss to them tonight would mean a tie and I desperately wanted to prevent it. So though it pained me, I had to step up and take Ben’s place as the leader. Nash had already said he didn’t want the role, so I was going to do it unless and until my teammates decided otherwise.
“Listen up, boys.” I stood up and looked around. Coach had just come in—he knew I was going to talk to them—along with the rest of the coaching staff and they shut the door behind them. “It’s time. I don’t know how deep you have to dig, what inner strength you have to tap into, but our losing streak ends now. Ben would be horrified. If he’s looking down on us, he’s cursing a blue streak. We cannot—no, we will not—continue down this path. So tell me what you need. If it’s not me, that’s okay. Let’s vote on a new captain, because we’re not doing this anymore.”
There was silence as most of the guys fidgeted, looked at the floor, did anything but make eye contact. Finally, Lars spoke up. “No, has to be you. No one else. Ben would want this.”