Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
But it’s my job, too, and I spot an opening. Right when the opponent lifts his stick to slam the puck, I time it perfectly, jamming mine in front of it, swatting it back the other way with a satisfying whiz across the ice. The puck whistles past center ice, landing on my brother’s stick. He races toward the Vegas net…
And delivers us a point.
I thrust my glove in the air. A block and an assist all at once. Thank you very much.
The forward curses at me. “Fucking asshole,” he mutters.
“Yes, yes, I am,” I say to him, flashing the Vegas Saber a what are you gonna do about it grin as I skate to the bench and hop over the boards.
After grabbing my water bottle, I chug as the next line jumps over.
Coach smacks me on the shoulder. “Keep that up.”
“I will, sir,” I say, meaning it. This game is exactly what I need to set the tone for the season: gritty, full throttle, leave it all on the ice.
When the game ends with another W, I head to the locker room, eager to do just that for the next eighty-one games. Right now, I’m ready to head back home and see my kids. They’re the reason I play all out.
The better I play, the better I can provide for them, and the last thing I want is to fail as a father. I witnessed that failure for myself growing up, and I won’t do it to my kids. Which is why I have something fun planned for Parker this weekend.
As we head down the Vegas arena corridor to board the bus to the airport, Rowan gives me a nod. “How’s everything back home?” It’s a rare moment when he’s not giving me hell.
“Pretty good,” I say as we walk.
“Nice. How are the kids doing?”
As if he’s summoned them, my phone trills and Parker’s photo lights up the screen—a shot of him triumphantly lifting a fork and digging into a plate of pancakes. I took it at a diner they love.
I show it to Rowan. “I should grab this.”
“Do it, man,” he says, waving me off. He’s the same way—always picks up for his daughter.
“What’s up, kiddo?”
“Dad! Did you know Betelgeuse is a red supergiant near the end of its life?”
I furrow my brow for a second, then figure it out. “It’s a star?”
“Yes! A reddish star in Orion. The planetarium had the coolest exhibit on supergiants, and there was a light show and everything.”
Sabrina must have taken him. My chest warms, a mix of gratitude and something I don’t have a name for yet. Maybe appreciation for her effort? Her creativity? “Sabrina took you to the planetarium?” I ask, confirming.
“Yeah! It was super cool. They had a whole sky show with music, and we learned about supernovas—like the team you used to play on. Betelgeuse might turn into a supernova someday!”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“You wanna know what else I learned?”
“I do.”
“The Andromeda Galaxy is on a collision course with the Milky Way. But not for, like, four billion years.”
I laugh. “All in due time.”
“Anyway, we picked up more stickers for my ceiling for this weekend, but we can go shopping when you get home if you want to find more. I just think it’d be awesome to get one of a supergiant.”
“A supergiant, huh?” I say.
“Yup! Oh, and I got you a cool T-shirt too. Well, I told Sabrina you’d think it was funny, so she picked it up—but it’s really from me.”
I’m not sure I’m following the math or money, but I grin anyway.
When we land in San Francisco, I catch up with Miles in the players’ lot. We share rides sometimes—better for Earth and all. So I hop into the passenger seat of his car.
“Good thing you’re not bringing the Falcon name down so far this season,” he says, pulling out of the lot.
“Pretty sure I’m bringing it up,” I toss back.
He scoffs. “Not sure it can go higher. Did you see my stats last season?” he says as he drives toward Pacific Heights.
I shoot him a look. “Is there a cup in your house I’m unaware of?”
That shuts him up. But not for long. “Seriously though. We could get one this season. Together. Wouldn’t that be something?”
I give him a genuine smile as I offer a fist for knocking. “That would be something indeed.”
When he pulls up in front of my home, he gives me a chin nod. “How’s everything working out with the house and all? You think you’ll buy anytime soon?”
I sigh. “I should, but man, life is busy, you know?”
“I hear you. Don’t wait too long though. You’ll be here for a while.”
I appreciate the endorsement. “That’s the plan,” I say, then thank him and head up the steps.
When I go inside, the T-shirt Parker told me about is sitting on the kitchen counter. It says: Science is Cool Since It Works Whether You Believe It or Not.