Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I was glad we’d decided not to deny we were friends during daylight hours too. That would have been difficult in a place this small. We’d had coffee together at Rise and Grind at least twice over the past week and had met up at the gym for a light workout on Jean-Claude’s day off.
However, we made sure no one was around when I let him in through the side door for an afternoon quickie. And damn, just thinking about the things we did made me feel gooey inside.
Shit. I had to tone that down, or Vinnie would want to know what was up with me. Explaining why I was grinning like a fool while worrying about my professional future would be awkward.
I nudged my sunglasses to the bridge of my nose as I approached the reception desk.
“Hi, there. Vinnie’s expecting me. Would you tell him—”
“Oh, my God, yes. Of course! I’m Erica and I’m a big fan.” She practically levitated as she jumped from her chair and round the desk.
I shook her hand and smiled. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well, we kind of met last summer, but it was total chaos. We’d never seen so many hockey stars in Elmwood. It was wild and so cool. I have to admit, I wasn’t really a Slammers fan until I saw you all with the kids. You especially. You were so sweet to my little brother. He’s still talking about you!”
My smile probably looked ridiculous by now. She had no idea how badly I needed to hear some positive affirmation.
“Thank you. It was a lot of fun. I hope to be back next summer too.”
Erica beamed. “Yay! That’s awesome! Come with me. I’ll take you inside.”
Elmwood Rink had gone through a major renovation before the official kickoff of the summer camp. I hadn’t seen the original, but according to Vinnie, the new and improved version featured a remodeled lobby with vaulted ceilings, state-of-the-art locker rooms, fresh boards and plexiglass around the perimeter, a high-tech scoreboard, and shiny new stadium seating. It was on par with some of the nicer college facilities in the area.
I thanked Erica when she opened the main entrance door and instantly got that jittery, happy buzz I always did at the first blast of refrigerated air and artificial ice. I sucked in a deep breath, instinctively narrowing my eyes behind my sunglasses in deference to the overhead lighting. But it was surprisingly dim inside.
I lowered my sunglasses slowly as Vinnie approached. “For me?”
He pulled me in for a bro hug and nodded. “Yeah, it’s almost romantic in here, dude. Don’t get the wrong idea, though. I’m a married man.”
“Ha. Ha. Well…thanks. I think I can actually take these off in here.”
I hooked my glasses on my collar and focused on the west side of the rink, carefully pulling my gaze from the rows of stadium seats to the edge of the ice. My eyes didn’t water, and my head didn’t immediately feel like it was going to explode.
“I can dim them a bit more if you want,” Vinnie offered.
“No, I think it’s okay.” I scanned the neutral zone, center ice, the penalty benches, the scorekeeper’s bench, and finally…the opposite goal. I set my hands on my hips and grinned. “Damn, I could play in this light. I could—”
“Whoa.” He grabbed my elbow before I got anywhere. “Give me the full report, Trunk. I can’t be responsible for impeding a pro hockey player’s recovery. Spill it. What’d the doc say?”
I filled him in on the doctor’s concerns, the MRI, and my call with Coach. “I’m on the mend. This isn’t rocket science. I’m just dealing with the remnants of a severe concussion, and no one likes that it’s still fucking with my vision. Especially me.”
“I bet.” He patted my shoulder sympathetically and hiked a thumb at the rink behind me. “I hate sounding like a wienie, but I checked in with one of the team physicians to be sure this wasn’t a completely stupid idea. He basically said that if you can skate in near dark…you can skate. Marsden agreed, but he doesn’t want you going overboard.”
“You talked to Coach?” I asked incredulously.
“He called after he spoke to you. Coach wants to help. He knows you’re anxious to get back on the ice, and he knows I’ve built a damn fine sports facility here and a sweet rink. There’s no harm in getting on the ice…as long as the lights are low and you don’t go too hard too fast. The ice treadmill at the gym is all well and good, but you need the real deal.”
I glanced longingly toward the rink and inclined my head. “You have no idea. I don’t have my skates with me, but I can get them and—”
“No need. You’re at a real rink, man. We have rentals, and the cool thing about knowing one of the owners is I can hook you up with the least sweaty gross ones on the shelf.” He clapped enthusiastically and motioned for me to follow. “We don’t have a ton of time. The juniors have practice in half an hour and there’s a Pee Wee game afterward, but for thirty minutes, you’ve got the place to yourself.”