Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
We end up holding our ground, and when there’s thirty seconds to go, I intercept the pass and whip it to the other side of the net that has no goalie in it. It sails all the way down the ice, the defenseman trying his hardest to get to the puck before it hits the back of the net, but he’s too slow and it slides in. The crowd goes wild and my teammates all skate up to me as the horn blows for the end of the period.
We skate to the middle of the ice and we hold up our sticks to thank the crowd for coming before I skate off the ice. We do this after every single home game, regardless of if we win or not. Obviously, it’s always better doing it after a win. I go to the locker room and try to hurry up. The coach comes in and gives us a pep talk before he allows the media to come in. I give a couple of interviews before I step into the shower. The reporters are now gone as some of the guys trickle around and make plans for the night. I’m slipping on my jacket at the same time as Kirby. “You joining us for dinner?” he asks me as he grabs his wallet and puts it in the inside pocket of his jacket.
“No.” I shake my head. “Going to head straight home.”
“Your girl here?” he asks me, raising his eyebrows, and I nod.
“Am I going to meet her?” he asks, laughing.
“Soon,” I say, not sure what else to tell him since I have to talk to Ariella about how to slowly ease people into this thing with us.
“I look forward to it,” he replies. I nod at him as I turn to walk out of the dressing room. I step out and see Angela there waiting for Kirby and Tiffany is right next to her. She smiles at me and I just turn my head and start to walk away.
“Seriously, Jaxon?” she huffs, hustling to catch up with me in her six-inch heels. “You’re just going to walk past me and try to ignore me?” I turn my head to the other side, not bothering to answer her since that was the answer. “Can we talk, please?” she hisses, grabbing on to my arm.
“No.” I move my hand out of her touch. “We said all there is to say.” I stop. “Also, calling my mother”—I snort—“what did you think that would do?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she hisses at me, her face distorting. “You left me no choice.”
“The mature choice would be to walk away and think it didn’t work out. Not get on the phone to my mother and spew the shit that you spewed. Jesus.” I shake my head. “It’s over, Tiffany, as in we are never getting back together. It was already over but the stuff you pulled since has made it clear that it is never, ever going to happen again.” I put my hands in my pockets as I look over to see Kirby having words with Angela. I also don’t tell her that it will never happen again because I’m with Ariella now. She doesn’t need to know that nor does she deserve to know that.
“Is it because of her?” She cocks her hip to the side.
“Yes and no.” I nod.
“You are going to give us up for that puck—”
I step into her space now, when a couple of seconds ago I tried to get as far away as I could from her. “Watch your mouth.” My voice is tight. “She’s more than you will ever be.” Shock fills her face. “I’d give you up in a heartbeat for her. Without a second thought. Without skipping a beat, it would be her over you every single time. Without a shadow of a doubt.” I see her lip quiver. “Move on.” I turn and stride out and away from her and head toward my SUV where I have Dave waiting with Ariella.
I see her talking to him and take her in, she’s wearing sneakers and my jersey. She must feel me staring at her because she turns my way and smiles at me. “There he is, the first star of the game.” I roll my eyes as she claps her hands.
“Thanks, Dave,” I tell him and he nods at me and walks away, slapping my shoulder.
“You got a good one there,” he says and I smirk.
“Oh, I know, except when she was younger.” I look back at her as she waits for what story I’m going to tell this time. The funny thing is, I have so many stories that it’s hard to choose. “She got me in trouble for pulling her hair.”
“You were twelve and I was five.” She hits me in the stomach. She’s about to pull her hand away from me when I stop her moving by grabbing her hand and pulling her to me. She looks up at me. “Hi,” she says softly.