Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Yep.
One bed.
I turn back to look at the living room where Aiden stands with his arms crossed at his chest.
Sure, the room is large, featuring a couch, two chairs, and a small round dining table, but it still only has one bedroom.
My heart thumps in my chest at the thought of sharing a room with him.
Aiden unfolds his arms. “The hotel is fully sold out, and this was the suite they had booked for us.”
I frown. “Shit.”
He cracks his neck. “Shit is right.”
I pace the small living room, trying to think of a solution, and then it hits me that this isn’t really a problem. I’ve slept on much worse. “It’s fine. We’ll make it work. I’ll sleep on the couch.” It’s not like I wasn’t just living on the couch before this job, but I don’t tell him that.
“Cass—” he says, but I shake my head.
“Aiden. It’s fine. Now let me unpack, and we can talk about it after.”
Walking to the closet, I’m about to ask him where his suitcase is so I can unpack it, but I see he beat me to the punch.
All his clothes are already in the closet. They are separated by color, which I already expected, but what throws me for a loop is that every hanger is perfectly spaced out.
I’ve helped with his laundry at his house. How did I not notice this?
Because you didn’t, and most likely after you put his clothes away, he spaced the hangers.
I take a deep breath and then set off to unpack my stuff without disrupting his stuff. I can’t have him off because of a dumb thing like hanger spacing.
It’s bad enough that he’s probably already stressed about the room situation.
Game one is tonight, and I need him to play his best.
When I’m finally done unpacking, I find Aiden cleaning the coffee table with a wipe.
I stand back and watch him. His brow furrows as he swipes, and when he’s done, he grabs another wipe and starts up again.
He won’t stop until it’s been wiped down a third time. Things are such a process with him, and I have to wonder if anyone ever suggested he seek help to manage this better.
I can guess he’d likely be opposed to it because of the chance the media would get ahold of it.
Growing up with the kind of mom that Aiden had, it’s no wonder he doesn’t trust easily. He might think himself weak, but I think he’s incredible. The fact he’s managed without assistance for this long is hard to bear. The toll it must take on him.
“I’m going to clean the bathroom,” he says, heading toward a door close to where the closet is.
Knew that was coming.
I’m getting good at recognizing all of his compulsions. Some are new, and I’ve had to learn how to maneuver around them. Every day, we get a little more in sync, and he eases up just a little bit, trusting me to complete each task.
“I’ll do it. I’m already here.” I pull out a pack of wipes from my bag that’s in the closet and then take the few steps to the bathroom.
Everything still needs to be done, but it doesn’t always have to be done by him. I’ll wipe it down for him, and hopefully that will be enough. Sometimes it’s not. Other times... well, I hope today is one of those times.
When I’m done, I step back into the living room. “What else can I help you do today?” I ask.
We’re in his suite, closed off from everyone else so that he can have this time to be himself. To decompress. It’s the time of day I love most because it’s just him and me in the same room together. No distractions from outside people and things. No discussion of anything team-related. No lies about who I am or how much he hurt me.
“That should be it. Thank you, Cassidy,” he says, swiping his hand back through his hair. I turn to walk away and go sit down at the table, but he speaks. “Can I ask you a question?”
I turn back around and tilt my head, wondering what’s on his mind.
“Sure.”
“What’s your opinion of hockey?”
I blink. That was not what I was expecting.
“Umm. I don’t know. It’s fast-paced and very brutal.” I watch as his lips thin. “But entertaining,” I add quickly.
“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes and takes a step toward me. “What do you really think?”
I blow a piece of hair out of my face, annoyed. “I’m still a shit liar.”
“That’s typically not a bad thing, Cass.”
My back straightens as the reality that I said that out loud washes over me.
I take a deep breath and think back to the days when I used to sit and listen to Aiden talk for hours about hockey. I didn’t know a damn thing about it back then, but he made me love it all the same. His passion was everything.