Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“No, I just tell them to get lost. I don’t have that kind of pull.”
“I would have flown you out for every weekend game, if you wanted to go.”
His eyes widen and jerk up to mine. “Huh?”
“Willow and Gideon used to come to every single game,” I continue. “Before he was with the Secret Service, back when it was early in my career, they’d follow me to every game, whether we were home or away. Then life sort of takes over, you know?”
“She got me and couldn’t travel with you anymore,” he says quietly, staring down at the last of his lunch.
Christ, this kid is smart.
“I don’t think it was much of a sacrifice,” I reply and reach over the island to ruffle his already messy dark hair. “She was happy to have you. Have you ever noticed that whenever I give an interview, I always wink at the camera at the end?”
“Sure. I figure it’s because you’re being cocky.”
“I am cocky,” I confirm, and then make the boy another sandwich because he still looks hungry. “But the wink is for Willow. She knows.”
“That’s why she always watches ESPN, looking for your interviews.”
I pause with a slice of cheese in my fingers. “She does?”
“Yeah. She watches more sports than me. Hockey, anyway. She watches every game. We had a ritual where we wore our jerseys and she made us nachos, or pizza, or burgers, and we ate while we watched. She mostly did that by herself last year because I was out with friends.”
He frowns and swallows hard but takes the new sandwich and bites in.
Willow watched every game.
I always hoped she did, but I knew she had Aiden to take care of, so I never assumed. She was always sure to call me to talk about the game, but she could have easily watched highlights to have talking points.
But she didn’t just watch the highlights. She watched the games. And that has my chest feeling tight.
This does not help my growing obsession with this woman.
“She’s kind of a sports trivia nut,” he continues. “She can rattle off stats like nobody else. And sometimes, we’ll be watching a game, and she’ll start ranting about something, and then not thirty seconds later, the commentator dudes rant about the same thing. It’s like she’s psychic or something.”
This is a side to Willow I don’t know but I want to learn more about.
And now that the kid has diarrhea of the mouth, I don’t want him to stop.
“Like what?” I ask him.
“Oh, I don’t know off the top of my head.” He chews thoughtfully. “Well, one time, you were playing, and we were watching as usual, and there was nothing on the screen hinting at the fact that you might be breaking a record that night. I hadn’t heard anyone mention it in the pregame. I had no idea.”
He takes a bite, and I cross my arms over my chest, listening.
This is fascinating.
“But Aunt Wills looked kind of nervous. She was pacing and biting her thumbnail, and she wasn’t eating any of the nachos, and I was like, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ And she said, ‘He only has to score two goals to break it.’”
I have chills. Goose bumps all down my arms.
“And I said, ‘Break what?’ and she said, ‘The all-time scoring record. They’re not even talking about it, and he could break it tonight.’ She was so mad that the commentator dudes weren’t talking about it.”
“They didn’t want to jinx it,” I murmur, remembering that night.
Christ, I was nervous. And I never get nervous on game night.
“And then, when you made that second goal,” he continues, finished with his sandwich now and switched back to the bag of chips, “she freaking cried. It scared me because Aunt Wills doesn’t cry. That woman is solid. And she just wept like a baby. I patted her back for a few, and then I was like, ‘I’m going to my room.’”
Fuck me.
“Thanks for telling me that.”
“Sure. She probably wouldn’t like that I told you she cried, so let’s keep that between us.”
With a chuckle, I nod. “Okay. Was there something specific you wanted to ask me before we got off on the Willow tangent?”
“Oh, right. Do you think I’m too old to start playing?”
“I was your age when I started,” I reply. “You’re not too old.”
He scratches his nose. “I don’t know. I kind of want to. But some of the guys at school are assholes, and I don’t want to hang out with them.”
“Beat ’em up on the ice,” I suggest. “That’ll feel damn satisfying.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Come on, let’s finish up. We have a lot left to do.”
Aiden is a hard worker. I can see that he’s beat, since I worked him hard today, but he never complains. I don’t have to ask him to do anything twice, and when he saw that I was struggling with a tree earlier, he jumped in to help me.