Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 112884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“I’m nice to everyone but you.” She walks away from him to her office, leaving us by ourselves.
“She is nice to everyone but me,” Kirby admits, bending and grabbing his cup of coffee. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me,” he says. All I can do is nod because in this moment with him right here, I’d give anything to kiss him one more time. To feel his hand on my face, to put my hand on his. He takes a step toward me. “I guess I’ll see you next week,” he states and my heart sinks. “I’m really glad you took the job,” he says when he is right beside me. Then I look up at him and wait for him to say something else. I can almost bet he wants to say something else, but he just gives me a smile before he walks to the door. “Bye, Kylie!” he shouts toward her office, then looks at me. “I got you one of those cinnamon rolls.” He motions toward the box and then he’s gone, the sound of the door clicking behind him. I close my eyes and I’m about to go after him when Kylie comes out of her office.
“Now that the big mean boss is gone,” she starts, holding a notebook in one hand and the coffee in the other, “how about we have our own meeting and get to know each other a little?”
I smile at her, pushing all thoughts of her brother out of my mind, at least for a little bit anyway. “I would really like that.”
“Okay,” she says, “first rule of business, I have to know”—she slinks onto the couch and kicks off her heels—“how much did my brother scream when you took him on that ride?” I laugh and any self-doubt I had about working with her is now washed away. “And did you get it on video?”
twenty-four
Kirby
“Okay, everybody,” Martin, the coach, says, coming into the room. He’s wearing his usual tracksuit with a whistle around his neck, swinging back and forth. “I want you guys all to rest up.” He looks over at all of us. “We leave tomorrow on a five-day road trip.” Half of us groan, while the other half snickers. The rookies look at each other as if they found their favorite toy under the tree at Christmas. Little do they know that their look will slowly fade as we get later in the season. It’s all fun and games traveling at first, having a girl in every city and parties to go to, but it quickly becomes old. When you get to be my age and you’ve played as long as I have, those days away from home are the most dreaded of all the season. “We are spending Saturday night in Vegas.”
“Coach, are we going to have a curfew?” One of the rookies, Owen, puts up his hand stupidly, and half of the old guys just look over at him, giving him a glare.
“We leave the next day at eleven,” the coach replies. “Anyone who throws up on that plane signs the whole team up for skating practice that night and the next morning.”
“If any of you fuckers,” Knox warns, “even think about getting shit-faced and throwing up, I will personally kick your ass.” He looks at all the young kids.
“Got it,” Owen confirms. “Go out, but don’t drink.”
The coach just shakes his head. “No one wants to skate after a six-hour flight.” Knox stares at Owen. “Especially not me.” He shares a nod with him. “You get me?”
“Got you, Coach,” Owen says, “loud and clear.”
“Jaxon,” Coach snaps his name. “Kirby,” he says my name right after.
“It’s your turn to babysit.”
I look over at Jaxon, who puts his head back and closes his eyes. “I might sleep the whole time we aren’t on the ice,” he mumbles, making everyone laugh, and then his look goes to Owen. “If you guys make me skate, you also get to babysit Jagger through the night.” He points at them. “And news flash, he’s teething, so he likes to be up all night and he does all of this wailing.” He makes sure he makes eye contact with all of us. “So keep that in mind if you want to pick up that drink.”
“See you all tomorrow,” Coach says, turning and walking out, followed by the rest of the coaching staff.
“Listen up,” I say, leaning forward and looking at Owen and his crew, “if you think I’m going to babysit you guys in Vegas on a Saturday night, you are mistaken. There is nothing more torturous than weaving through the mounds of drunk people. So, you guys are going to get dinner after the game that ends at five, and then you are going to sit in your fucking hotel room until we leave the next day.” Owen stares at me. “Are we clear?” They nod and share a look before they get up and head to the shower.