Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Coach is even less skilled with words than I am, but it’s effective. After years of playing, we know what to do and how to get into the right head space.
The game is long and hard fought, but ultimately, the Devils come out the victors ahead of the Cavaliers, 5-2.
As we leave the ice, people are lined up at the walls on our way toward the locker room. “Patrick! Patrick! Will you sign my book?”
After Eliza’s betrayal, and with Maddox’s help, I’d done a fair job of gluing the chunks of my heart back together into some semblance of who I used to be, but there were still a lot of cracks and breaks. I let that damage control me long after I’d healed from what she broke inside me, hiding my fragility with asshole grunts while gruffly pushing people away.
That was when I quit signing autographs, figuring I could take that power (and money) away from her, or people like her.
I haven’t done them in years at this point, and somewhere along the way, people quit asking. I was relieved since it brought up bad shit every time they did. But this kid catches my attention, calling out my name and asking for an autograph. He looks about twelve or thirteen, and something about him reminds me of myself at that age. On that edge of sweet kid and stupid teenager, with a balance that can be shifted all too easily.
“Sure, what’s your name?”
The kid’s eyes widen comically, like he didn’t actually expect me to stop, much less respond to him. “Jacob.”
I scribble onto a page in Jacob’s autograph book and hand it back. He looks even more shocked now and turns, holding the page up to show his father. “Look, Dad! Riggs Patrick!”
The father looks at me with so much appreciation that I feel like an asshole for every single time I said no to signing in the past. I hold my fist out for a bump, and Jacob’s dad taps me back. I feel like they’re going to talk about this day for years to come, but for me, it’s just a regular game. I forgot that while I was wallowing in my own self-pity.
Maddox comes up beside me, a smile on his face. “Welcome back, man.”
“Thanks.” I mean it about so much more than just this small exchange. “You gonna be okay not staying one hundred percent locked on hockey the way you always have been?”
“Fuck yeah,” Maddox answers. “You see how awesome I did tonight? Two goals and an assist? And I still managed to blow Kayla a kiss during my second period penalty. I’m doing great.”
After a game, I’m ready to shower, eat, and crash for the next eight to twelve business hours. Maddox is always hyped up to the point of being annoying, but this time, I grin at his exuberance, completely unbothered.
It’s because I’m doing better now, and he and I are better friends. Most notably, it’s because of Kayla, the woman who appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared again, dancing through our dreams like a fantasy, only to become our reality.
We’re all great… together.