Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
“I apologize if that came out like a question,” he said, and the way he was looking at me, I knew better than to argue.
I bit my lip against a smile, letting him lead the way, and even though he and Ava were parked in the players’ lot, he walked me all the way to the lot at Sparkman Wharf, making sure I was inside with the engine started before he and Ava waved goodbye.
And I sat there with my hands on the wheel and my heart racing, even long after he’d gone.
Tough Guy
Will
“For fuck’s sake.”
I gritted my teeth, skating hard and fast across the ice to where Aleks Suter had one of our rookies pinned up against the glass, his forearm pressing hard into the kid’s neck. He was spitting something at him in German, and I didn’t have to speak the language to know he wasn’t complimenting the pigeon on a nice shot.
It had been a hell of a week. With a string of home games and an away game in Boston tomorrow, the whole team was tired. We needed a day off — whether to rest or blow off steam — but we weren’t going to get it until Friday.
Which meant until then, I had to deal with this jerkoff and the rest of my exhausted team.
I slid to a stop when I made it to them, grabbing the back of Suter’s practice jersey and yanking him backward. I had to immediately step between him and our teammate to stop him from advancing again.
“You fuck up my shot again, and I’ll wring your fucking neck,” Aleks threatened.
“Bro, relax. It’s practice.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t fuck around in practice like you dumbasses.”
“I was giving you the assist!”
“You were wasting oxygen and skating like a goddamn baby giraffe.”
I slammed my hand hard into Suter’s chest, skating him backward and away from our teammate. He pointed a thick finger over my shoulder at the rookie before shaking me off and skating away like he was just going to get right back to practice.
But I snatched him by his jersey again, dragging him with me to the bench.
Aleks Suter was a big sonofabitch. He was just as tall as I was and built like an MMA fighter, every muscle in his body sculpted by rigorous workouts and skating. Still, I slung him onto our bench like he was a teenager who weighed nothing, narrowing my gaze as he ripped off his helmet and glared at me.
“Cool off,” I ordered.
Before I could skate away, he spat near his feet, offering me something between a glare and a cocky grin. The motherfucker was intimidating. He had his last team wrapped around his finger until the moment his general manager booted him, and the only reason he was here was because our general manager loved anything that served as a spectacle and got asses in our seats.
But I wasn’t intimidated by Aleks — not even a little bit.
And I was hell bent on whipping him into an actual teammate who could be useful.
“You’re not my daddy,” he said, standing, but I shoved him back down onto the bench.
“You’re already on two strikes,” I reminded him. “One more, and you’re off this team and likely out of the league completely. Is that what you want, tough guy?”
His jaw ticced, nostrils flaring as he returned my hard stare. He was like a mustang that refused to break, but I knew that he didn’t want to lose hockey.
If I had to guess, I’d say it was the only thing that actually mattered to him.
He didn’t realize it, but I saw right through his act. I knew that behind all that anger and aggression, he was dealing with something none of us understood.
I knew because I’d been there myself.
I didn’t know what he was running from, exactly, and to be frank — I didn’t give a fuck. All I needed was for him to rein it in enough to be a good fucking teammate and help us get the Cup. I wanted to help him, the way my mentor helped me when I was in a similar spot.
But unlike my mentor, I didn’t have the patience to hold this prick’s hand.
I didn’t give two fucks if he ended up out of the league — not if that was what was best for this team. But as it stood, Coach McCabe had put his faith in me to give this clown a little guidance, to help him reach his potential.
I’d do anything for Coach because he’d been one of the men to save my ass.
After I lost Jenny, I was drowning. I could barely get myself up in the morning to care for Ava. When I did make it to the arena, which wasn’t much, I was like a ghost — a really pissed-off, irritable ghost.