Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“I want to do this now, when I’m at the beginning of my career, playing great hockey. I want to be visible. I want kids to know they can literally be anything they set their minds to. Being bi isn’t a weakness. It’s just who I am. I’m driven, I’m competitive, I play hockey, and my goal is to win the cup at least twice before I’m thirty. And I’m going to do it. Any questions?”
Denver won the Stanley Cup that year and the next, so…it was safe to say, the hotshot meant business. Denny was Denver’s franchise and one of the biggest stars in the league. His career trajectory was everything sports analysts, coaches, and hockey fans had predicted from the start. He read the ice like a book and seemingly scored at will, putting on a show in front of sold-out arenas across North America.
He’d been a guest on a medley of late-night talk shows, hosted SNL once, and had given commencement speeches at a few universities, as well as Elmwood High. The man who’d guarded his words like a miser now gave them freely. He spoke about his struggles with anxiety, depression, and grief in the hopes of helping others. That was his mantra: Give back. Be there for someone else. Pay it forward.
His energy and dedication were humbling. Watching him grow into a true superstar was an incredible honor. And to know I was the one he looked for in the crowd or signaled to after every interview with a reporter was…well, kind of fucking beautiful.
We’d split our time between Denver and Elmwood as evenly as possible over the past five years. I went to his games when I was in Denver and traveled to away games when I was able to, usually with friends. If a nosy reporter asked if he was dating anyone, Denny gave a standard, “My private life is private.” And that was fine by me.
We didn’t advertise our relationship, but most of the folks in Elmwood knew we were together. I mean, we shared a house, horses, and even went into business together. More about that in a second.
Getting married hadn’t been on the agenda, but he’d come home to Elmwood after a series of games in Canada, worn out and sore. He’d been quieter than usual, pensive. We’d sat in front of the fireplace one night with our dog, George, curled at Denny’s feet, and he’d blurted, “I want to marry you.”
Romantic, right?
We discussed a quick trip to town hall, but ultimately, we wanted our favorite people to be there, especially Grams and my dad. Grams was ninety-two and showed no signs of slowing down, but my father wasn’t doing as well. His trip here this week would probably be his last. But he’d insisted, and I was glad.
I kissed Denny and nodded. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”
We drove up the hill, our truck hugging the curving road leading to Wood Hollow. The copse of hollowed out trees thinned as we approached Belvedere, giving a sweet view of the new homes built near the lake. We continued along the widened road past refurbished lamplights and the quaint fountain donated by Pinecrest. Crisp black awnings covered the colorful storefronts.
I smoothed my palm on my khakis, idly noting the line in front of the new Rise and Grind.
“Are you nervous?” Denny asked, reaching for my hand.
“Yes, and I don’t know why. It’s just a formality. A silly pat on the back with pictures.”
He snorted. “I don’t think anyone here would agree with you. Wow. Geez, Hank. This is amazing.”
Denny parked the truck in my space at the mill and bumped my elbow as we headed toward the red ribbon draped across Main Street. I stopped at the sidewalk and gazed out at the sea of familiar faces who’d gathered for the official ribbon-cutting ceremony for the revitalized township of Wood Hollow.
This was the result of the efforts I’d spearheaded five years ago to raise money to rebuild Wood Hollow. Denny and I had started a foundation to revamp parks, schools, and infrastructure. There was a real market now, a yoga studio, a ceramics shop, a bakery, a diner, and a coffee shop. The new construction had brought a flood of new citizens, but the foundation gave the old-timers a say in the renovations.
Not everyone loved the influx of visitors, but the majority agreed that this old town had new life, thanks to the mill…and maybe me. It hadn’t been easy and this wasn’t the project I’d set my sights on, but like Denny, I wanted to give back, so I’d rolled up my sleeves and gotten to work.
Denny linked his pinky with mine. “Hey, I have another proposition for you.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll let you hold my hand if you kiss me on Main Street.”
I smiled at my man. “But someone might see, sweetheart.”