Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
The Clomsky craze faded and then resurfaced two years ago when a nurse leaked the news that my father was dealing with early onset dementia caused by what was assumed to be chronic traumatic encephalopathy, CTE. Aunt Kay had been devasted on my dad’s behalf. To me, it was an important opportunity to highlight a very real issue. I would like to report that the attention brought my father and me closer, but nothing had changed.
No, that wasn’t true. I’d healed. I’d learned to accept what was and to appreciate that I had a chance to make a better life for myself with someone I loved who loved me and was willing to move mountains to be with me.
Or at the very least, move closer.
Ty had been traded to Rochester, where he’d morphed into an indominable scoring machine. In my opinion, he’d always been a force to be reckoned with on the ice, but now…he was a seasoned pro, mentally and physically prepared to play at any level. Even in the NHL.
Tomorrow night, he was on Buffalo’s roster. It might be one game only or maybe the length of a series, or…maybe they’d make him a permanent member. Ekes! I hoped so. I didn’t think Ty was overly eager, though. He was happy playing for Rochester. Ty loved his teammates and the coaching staff, and he loved being commuting distance to Smithton.
In case you’re curious…I opted to stay in Smithton postgraduation. Part of me had wanted to follow Ty to Florida. He’d rented an apartment for us with a big window for Mabel to survey the neighborhood. He’d made room for me in his closet and given me cart blanche to decorate as I pleased, but I couldn’t help thinking that my presence was a distraction. I needed to find my own path.
So…we had a long-distance relationship for nine yucky months. Not gonna lie, it was terrible and I hated it. I missed Ty like crazy, and I worried nonstop. On the bright side, the time passed quickly and it gave me a chance to rebrand myself from a collegiate influencer to something a tad more mainstream.
What’s New, Smithton? was now called What’s New, Walker?, a travel and lifestyle channel that showcased interesting places and people in small towns across the globe. Robin and Shay still handled editing and photography, but we’d added a few staff members to help with scheduling and logistics. So far, I’d covered everything from rival barbecue-sauce makers in a tiny town outside of Kansas City to adorable bookshops and pubs in the UK. I’d toured wineries, sampled cheeses, learned how to knit (not well) and how to decorate a wedding cake (also, not well).
I saved bigger trips for summertime when Ty was available to join me for an adventure. My audience was mad for anything Ty-related, but we had strict rules to guard our personal lives. I didn’t talk about him on my show unless he was scheduled to make an appearance, which again…was a summer thing. And he didn’t discuss me in interviews.
Most of our fans knew we had a cat named Mabel and that we’d adopted a gorgeous mutt called Milly. However, they didn’t know that we’d bought a huge Victorian house in the Smithton bluffs last year that we’d painstakingly remodeled in our spare time.
We’d gutted the kitchen, torn out a wall between the old dining room and an office that looked more like a closet. We’d stripped ancient wallpaper, repaired molding, painted, sanded, refinished the hardwood floors and wraparound porch. And Ty had repurposed and added square footage to an old shed and made it into a state-of-the-art workout space with all kinds of contraptions I avoided at all costs.
Ooh, don’t get me started on the yard. It had gone from weed central to an actual real-life lush garden. It was March now, so it wasn’t quite at its best yet, but just wait.
Ty recruited his dad and brothers, Brady, Gus, Jett, a few of his teammates from Rochester, and my entire Toronto posse to help.
Our families meshed very well, thank goodness. His parents loved me, and my aunt and uncle were staunch members of the Ty Czerniak fan club. Familial get-togethers felt natural and…easy.
It was nice to share pieces of our lives with them that we wouldn’t share with the public.
But no one needed to know that we had plans to get married in the garden someday or that we sat in various rooms and imagined our kids climbing out of their cribs and wreaking havoc. That was for us. Not today or even this year, but we’d know when the time was right.
In the meantime, we had more to accomplish, more to prove.
“I hope it happens,” I said, raising our joined hands to my lips. “I hope they say, ‘Ty Czerniak, you sexy beast, come play for Buffalo. Be our hero.’ ”