Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” Jenna says and gives me a warm look. “Brienne already got him to trust her and take a chance on the team. He’s open-minded.”
Thank God I’m not taking another sip as I’d choke on that, as well. Drake is in no way open-minded. He’s completely closed off.
His teammates have the best chance of making him see the good out there, that he can create trusting bonds.
It’s definitely not going to be me.
CHAPTER 12
Drake
I glance up at the clock ticking down on the massive scoreboard above me. In twenty-three seconds, the Titans will take their first loss of the preseason.
I’m on the bench tonight as Baden wanted to see how Kace Elliott would perform for an entire three periods. The kid is good, and if I had to hedge my bets (the irony is not lost on me that I was accused of illegal betting), Kace will earn the slot on the team over Patrick Stenlund. Baden already confided in me that I’d have the primary slot, even though the final determinations haven’t been made public yet. I think that’s just a matter of us being longtime friends, plus it’s a confidence he knows I wouldn’t disclose.
I’m not being cocky when I say the primary slot should be mine. I’ve been on fucking fire every time I stepped out on the ice, and I know it’s merely the desire and drive to show all those fuckers in the league who didn’t want me that they made a mistake.
My eyes drift from the scoreboard to the owner’s box that sits between the first and second tiers of the arena.
People mill about inside, silhouettes because of the box’s back lighting. I assume one of those people is the gorgeous but frustrating Brienne Norcross. I can’t imagine she’d miss a home game.
The woman confounds me. It’s been three days since I’ve heard from her. It’s been ten days since she left that first note in my cubby in New York City, and every afternoon for seven days after, she texted me invitations that quickly morphed into an inside joke. If you want to stick it to the league…
Code for sticking it to her, which I very much want to do any opportunity I get.
But it’s been three days of silence, and because I’m a man and I don’t ever want to insinuate that this means anything more to me than a hookup, I haven’t reached out to her.
That’s not how we play the game.
When I left her house three mornings ago, I assumed things would stay the same. We don’t make plans, and I told her I wouldn’t be able to see her on most nights because of my boys. She was cool with that. We’re both free to do our own thing, and we don’t owe each other explanations.
And yet, it’s bugging the shit out of me she’s gone silent.
The buzzer sounds, and although any loss is disappointing, the fans in the arena don’t act like we’ve lost. Their cheers are deafening and supportive as we exit the ice.
The one thing that has amazed me since joining the Titans is the fervor the fans bring to every game. It was obvious when I watched them on TV last season after the crash that everyone was so grateful to have a team, and that excitement was actually palpable through the TV screen. That fanaticism and love for their team has not diminished in the off-season. Even though this is a preseason game and we lost, the arena shakes as the fans scream and chant, “Titans, Titans, Titans!”
Usually in preseason, by the end of a losing game, nearly half the arena will have emptied out just from people wanting to get a jump on traffic. As I look around, the stands are almost completely full, a testament to how great our supporters are.
When we near the locker rooms, Baden falls into step beside me. “Got a second?”
“Yeah,” I reply, moving off to the side so the other players can pass.
“What did you think?” he asks quietly, arms crossed over his chest.
He’s asking me about Kace.
“I would take him over Patrik any day. Not to be an asshole about it, but Patrik doesn’t have what it takes to make it in this league. He’s too inconsistent, and you never know what you’re going to get. Kace is green, but he’s got a steadiness that’s very impressive for his age.”
“I’m thinking the same,” Baden says with a nod, smiling at other players as they walk past. “I just wanted to get your take on it. Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
It makes me feel good that Baden asks my opinion. It’s a bit of a balm given my almost complete disdain for most people in the league. We fist-bump, and I make my way to my cubby.
The first thing I do when I reach my locker isn’t undress but grab my phone off the top shelf. I unlock the screen and open my texts—there’s one from my sister Kiera.