Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Who knows? They could be right. But there’s a kind of void in the center of my chest, and if I don’t throw something into it almost nightly, it feels like it could open up and swallow me whole.
Another flight attendant gives a safety demonstration. I tune it out and take the drink from Kiki, who makes sure her fingers brush mine.
I decide I’m not interested in sleeping with her. Honestly, the thought of playing the familiar game right now feels even emptier than usual. Maybe I’ll take a breather this offseason and give sleeping alone a try for a while.
I’ll have more to think about, anyway. Tomorrow morning, we’ve got the first round of interviews at Taste. I spoke casually to Jake about it, but the truth is my stomach is in my throat about the whole thing. The menu. The staff. The cash on the line. But it’s more than that… Having my own restaurant has always been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember. Hockey happened because I was always good at figuring out how to get people’s attention. For my dad, doing well on the ice was what worked. Cooking never mattered to him.
But the thought of having my own restaurant has never really left the back of my mind. I always imagined it more with myself behind the stove, but this may be all I can manage. It’ll have to be good enough.
Jesse is watching me sip my drink from across the aisle. He’s our top-scorer. Ever since he met Jake’s little sister, Andi, during his season off with an injury two years ago, he takes every chance he can get to go back to Frosty Harbor to spend time with her. Once the team heard I was opening my first restaurant in Frosty Harbor, the starters all insisted on coming along and staying in town with us. Out of all the guys, he was the most excited when he heard I was opening a restaurant in his hometown. Just one more excuse to go be with his wife.
“What?” I ask, glaring at him.
“Just wondering why you’re wallowing,” he says.
“I’m not wallowing.”
“Okay,” he says easily. He folds his arms, kicking one foot over his knee as he turns to face me. “Then you’re brooding. You like that better? Brooding is more respectable, after all. It’s less eating ice cream in your pajamas and more of an angry lifestyle punctuated by badass acts of rebellion. Trust me. I would know.”
I can’t help grinning a little. My teammates are like family. They get me in a way nobody else ever has, and I respect the hell out of all of them for it.
Jake decides to join in. “Already tried to dig it out of him, Jesse. Nolan’s got his lips sealed tighter than a clam’s ass during high tide.”
“Wow,” Carter says, turning to chime in from the seat in front of Jesse. “I didn’t know you were an expert on clam ass, Jake. Have you tried violating them before and this is your way of suggesting we wait for low tide?”
Jake tosses a balled up napkin at Carter, who bats it away with a smile. “You know, I think my sister knows a nice clam down in Maine. I could try to get you her number, if you’re interested. No promises that she’ll unclench her backside for you, though. But you could always wait for low tide. I heard somewhere that expert clam diddlers do that, at least.”
“We were in the middle of trying to interrogate Nolan,” Jesse says. “If you don’t mind holding off your fascination with the clam thing for later, that is.”
“Holding,” Carter says. “I’m holding it tighter than a clam’s ass at high tide,” he adds, winking at Jake, who looks like he wishes he had more shit to throw at Carter.
“So what are you brooding over, Nolan?” Jesse asks. “We’re all sick of watching it, by the way.”
“Nobody’s asking you to watch,” I say.
“Classic brood,” Carter says. As usual, there’s mischief and amusement flickering in his blue eyes. He runs a hand through his mop of brown hair, then pulls a face I think is supposed to resemble mine. He even lowers his voice in an attempt to sound like me, too. “Nah, bros. Can’t hang tonight. I got a few pussies lined up. Didn’t catch their names. Later, dudes.”
Maddox sticks his head up from the seat beside Carter, grinning as if he wants to get in on the joke. Maddox is big and burly, with the disposition of a superstitious golden retriever. “No, wait,” he says. He scrunches his forehead, obviously working his brain overtime in desperation. “I’m Nolan, and I’m gonna let you score on me tonight, ladies.”
There’s an awkward pause. Carter gives Maddox’s shoulder a squeeze. “Because he’s the goalie?” he asks kindly, almost like Maddox is a small child. “I see what you were going for there, big guy. Good try.”