Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
The coaches, not so much.
Not that we don’t warrant it, but mainly because we don’t really hang out with the players. It keeps somewhat of a professional line between us, so our authority is never blurred.
Also, I doubt the players want us watching over them, so they can get crazy if they want.
Maurice pushes through the crowd, and we follow him toward the end of the bar. He’s able to wiggle his way in and order us a round, and then we find a spot near the wall where we can huddle and talk.
I’d like to say it’s casual, fun talk, but we end up discussing the game. The things that worked to get us the win, and the things that need improving. We talk about the two-game road trip we leave for tomorrow.
As I finish the last swallow of my beer and decline Maurice’s offer of another, I ask them, “What did you think of Camden tonight?”
“He’s the weak spot on the second line,” Sam says, and the others nod.
“It’s like he’s a beat off,” I say. “Is it his knee?”
“I’ve had no indication from the medical staff reports.” Gage has been the primary liaison with medical and players. “By all accounts, it was fully rehabbed last season, and he’s not had any complaints. He gets it iced, but he doesn’t even use a brace.”
His knee is the reason Camden wasn’t on the plane when it went down. He had a slight meniscus tear, not even that bad. It could’ve been fixed with rest and therapy, along with the hope it wouldn’t tear further, but he chose a quicker and more stable fix with surgery.
“Want me to talk to him?” Gage asks. “See if he can identify the issue?”
“I’ll talk to him. It might be he’s just having a hard time clicking with this line, and maybe we move him.”
Gage nods in agreement.
“And with that, I’m heading home. I’m about to fall asleep standing here.”
The guys laugh, but Gage follows me out while Maurice and Sam stay to have another. We walk back to the coaches’ parking at the arena and say our goodbyes. We’ll next see each other tomorrow midmorning for our flight to Texas, where we’ll face the Dallas Mustangs and the Houston Jam.
I drive across the river to my downtown condo. Upon moving here, I decided against a house, just as I had when I lived in Sweden and Greenville. I keep very few possessions, and I don’t want to have to care for a yard or be expected to socialize with neighbors. I’m not antisocial—far from it, actually—but coaching is more demanding than my career as a player, and I don’t have room for much else outside work. I definitely don’t need a lot of space, so a small two-bedroom condo suits me just fine.
Granted, it’s in a swank as hell building with private parking and security. I bought all new furniture to fill it, given the pay increase I received after moving from the minors to the professional league. But past that, I live modestly.
I take a quick shower when I get home, but despite being physically exhausted, I’m not quite sleepy. Flopping down on the couch, I aim the remote at the TV and surf Netflix. My chest squeezes as I scroll past the movie Armageddon. I don’t even think about watching it as it stirs feelings I don’t like.
It was the one movie Melissa and I watched most often. I loved the action and suspense, and she loved the romance. I was touched when Harry died at the end, but Melissa would sob into my shoulder.
My eyes shift to the slew of picture frames I have on one of the built-in bookcases. I’m close to my family, and I have a lot of photographs of us together.
I have some of me and Melissa still displayed. She might have died almost nine years ago, but I don’t ever want to forget her. It sometimes hurts to look at her—always with a bright, sunny smile on her face. But it should hurt because she was my wife. We’d been together since our junior year in high school.
I was holding her when she died.
So yeah, it should still ache, but it’s not debilitating anymore. More often than not, like right now, I can smile when I look at one of those pictures. Showing her youth and vitality, the very best of Melissa before the cancer. Those memories are a source of comfort.
The pain never fully goes away, but it has significantly lessened over the years. I’ve learned to live with it.
And I’ve moved on.
CHAPTER 2
Cannon
I like city living. Not that I often take advantage of the great restaurants or cool bars all within a few blocks of me, but I love the convenience of those things being within walking distance should I choose to go.