Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“What’s the story with your parents?”
I paused mid-step, and Grace hiked another few feet before she turned and watched me with concern knitting her brows.
“Sorry,” she blurted. “I… you don’t have to answer that.”
“No, it’s fine,” I promised her, and with a long inhale, I started moving again, signaling for her to do the same. Maybe if we were talking, I could stop thinking about her ass in those shorts. “I’m just not used to much conversation outside of chirping my teammates.”
Grace snorted at that.
I hated the way my chest grew tighter the longer I tried to find the words to answer her question almost as much as I hated the fact that it was such a hard one for me to answer at all. I also found it curious that I didn’t change the subject, because any time any other woman had ever tried to get close to me, that was exactly what I did.
But with Grace… I wanted to tell her.
Maybe because, for some reason I couldn’t explain, I knew she’d understand.
Before I could overanalyze it too much, I blew out a breath and started talking.
“My parents are… fierce,” I landed on. “In everything that they do. They love hard, they fight harder, and they don’t beat around the bush.”
“That’s kind of nice,” Grace said, using her hands to help scramble over a tall rock.
“I never have to wonder what they’re thinking, that’s for sure.”
“Are you close with them?”
I cracked my neck. “Not when I can help it.”
Grace paused, waiting until I scrambled over the same rock. She looked up at me for a moment, her eyes searching mine, and then started hiking again.
“You were born and raised in Alberta, right?”
I nodded, trailing behind her. “Canmore, specifically.”
“What was it like?”
“Beautiful,” I answered immediately. “And there were adventures everywhere. Mountain biking, hiking, swimming, kayaking, climbing.” I shook my head. “When we moved to Calgary, I missed it. Even though we were only a little over an hour away, it just wasn’t the same as walking out your backdoor and having the world as your playground.”
“Why did you move?”
“Hockey.”
“Ah,” she said with a grin. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t hate that.”
“You’d be surprised.”
The words flew out faster than a blink, jarring both Grace and me.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed, and for a while, we were both quiet, me climbing behind her as the sound of rushing water got stronger with each step. We must have been close to the north creek, the one that had a suspension bridge hanging over it, according to the trails app.
“My dad played hockey,” I said after a while.
“Professionally?”
I nodded. “Yeah, in the AHL. First for the Hawks, and then the Thunder. He was a fucking beauty too — a tough guy to play against and a real fan favorite,” I added with a slight smile and shake of my head.
“So, he was great?”
“I was too young to really remember him playing, but I’ve seen the tape. If you think I’m a beast on D, you should have seen him.”
“Who said I think you’re a beast?” she teased, and I loved her for it, because it relieved the pressure on my chest when I laughed again.
“Anyway, he loved it. I mean, it was his whole life. He put a stick in my hands before I could even walk, because he was determined for me to follow in his footsteps.” I swallowed, using a small tree to help me climb a rock. “But then he got hurt.”
Grace waited for me to catch up, her eyes flicking between mine. “Badly, I’m assuming.”
My throat was tight when I nodded. “Broke his back.”
“What?” Grace gaped at me. “He… how?”
“Got plowed over by a winger hell bent on scoring, and he slid into the goal posts. He had pads on and everything, but it just… I don’t know. It was the right angle, the right amount of speed that…”
My voice faded as the scene played in my head like a movie I’d seen a thousand times. I’d only watched that tape once, by accident, when I was trying to find the game my dad wanted me to study going into a tournament in high school. He and Mom had both done a good job shielding me from his injury up until that point.
But I watched it unknowingly that day. I saw the very moment my father slammed into the bar, watched as his body bent in an unnatural way around it before he lay lifeless on the ice.
I saw the last time he ever skated.
I sniffed, throat tight again. “Let’s just say that accident changed him. Not just his way of life, but who he was inside, too. My mom… she swears he used to be funny and kind, that he was the life of any room he walked into.” I cleared my throat. “But I only know him as harsh and abusive.”