Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
The camera cuts away from Holderness and flashes to a previously recorded press conference with Gray standing at a podium emblazoned with the Carolina Cold Fury logo. She’s a beautiful woman, but I admire her for her accomplishments.
Gray Brannon has upended the hockey world by taking over the Cold Fury and leading them to back-to-back championships.
She looks straight into the camera and says, “My father and I believe it is our duty to protect and maintain the stellar reputation of this league. The truth of the matter is, at the time of the crash, the Pittsburgh Titans were top of their conference with an astonishing eight-point lead in the standings. I’ve talked to Brienne Norcross, and while she’s working diligently to rebuild the Titans team, they need at least another week before they can reenter regular season play.
“My father, as CEO of the Carolina Cold Fury, is calling on owners league-wide to join us in adopting a resolution to put in place a points freeze, retroactive to the date of the Titans’ plane disaster. This will continue up through the end of next week when points earnings will resume. This is the only way to ensure the integrity of the points standings and give Pittsburgh a fair chance to compete.”
Chuck Holderness comes back on, and I look at Baden. He’s staring at the TV in shock, which means this is news to him as well. “How about that,” he murmurs in awe.
“Will it pass?” I ask curiously. “The resolution?”
His eyes meet mine, and I’m struck by how hypnotizing they are. They’re almost golden, and they convey so much warmth. I don’t remember that from when I visited him at the hospital. He wears his dark hair longish on top, shorter on the sides but swept back. His beard, trimmed to the contours of his face, accentuates his full lips. I don’t remember any of this.
Then again, that day I wasn’t really paying attention to his looks. I’d stared instead at his lifeless legs under the hospital sheets.
Baden shrugs. “I have no clue, but it’s awesome that Gray Brannon is calling for it. She’s a pioneer and a rule breaker if there ever was one.”
And all of a sudden, it seems weird to be standing here talking about hockey. I feel like we missed something monumental—namely, how is he walking again? When did this miracle occur?
In my mind, he was a broken man, huddled in a wheelchair and maybe drinking himself into a depression. I purposely avoided reading anything about him because my heart couldn’t take the worst-case scenario, and I could only fathom the worst case given how brutally he was injured.
My brain wouldn’t let me consider the best case, though, so it’s bewildering to see him looking so healthy.
“Can we sit?” he asks hesitantly, nodding toward the living room furniture.
Shit. So freaking rude of me. “Yes, of course, you’ll need to sit down.”
“No,” he says, and it’s not exactly harsh but it causes my eyes to flare in surprise. His expression gentles. “I don’t need to sit. I’d just like to.”
“I’m so sorry.” It comes out as more of a piteous moan than actual words, and I realize I’m making all kinds of assumptions about him. “I’m just… it’s just…”
“Overwhelming?” he guesses.
Tears well in my eyes. “I didn’t know you could walk. I’d assumed your paralysis was permanent.”
Baden frowns but makes no comment. He’s probably thinking I’m the biggest asshole for not checking up on him and knowing more than I do.
I’m frozen, caught in a hell of self-imposed guilt and a general inability to say the right thing.
Perhaps it’s the deer-in-the-headlights look I know I’m wearing, or maybe the slight sheen of tears, but Baden becomes gallant—although I suspect that’s inherent in his nature. “I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I called Detective Gilmore and got your address, and please, don’t be mad at him. I bribed him with Vengeance tickets, and I know your information is private, but I really wanted to see you.”
“Of course, I’m not mad,” I reassure him. “I showed up at your hospital unannounced, and that was totally awkward. I guess I deserve this.”
Baden chuckles and nods at the furniture again. “May I?”
“Damn it,” I curse at myself for my continued rudeness. I walk around the opposite end of the couch and gesture toward a chair. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry I’m so discombobulated.”
Moving with what appears to be relative ease, although I can clearly see now that his steps are a bit cautious and calculated, Baden settles into one of the chairs.
“Would you like something to drink?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’m good.”
“Oh, okay.”
Baden stares at me and finally asks, “Will you sit down too?”
Shit. I’m totally losing it.
I scramble for the end of the couch farthest away from his chair. I grab the remote, mute the TV, and flop down awkwardly.