Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 53233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
And Hagen’s getting the better of it, landing more punches and getting back on his feet first. As soon as he does, though, another Tampa Bay player shoves him back down and starts punching him.
“Bullshit,” I mutter, because this fight was between two men and no one else.
I get a look at the back of the sweater and see that it was Gil McCoy who butted in.
“Tom, this isn’t good,” one of the announcers says.
The refs are pulling McCoy off of Hagen, and Hagen is motionless. His leg is bent at an unnatural angle and blood is pooled beneath it.
“Holy shit,” I say, not knowing if Hagen is even still alive.
The arena is eerily quiet. Trainers from both teams are running onto the ice when the network cuts away to commercial. They don’t want viewers seeing a gruesome injury up close.
“Will he be okay?” Daphne asks me.
“I don’t know.”
“He wasn’t moving. And there was so much blood.”
“I think Hagen must have gotten pushed into Hunter Paul’s skate blade. Those things are very sharp.”
Daphne covers her mouth with her hand, looking horrified.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” I tell her. “That’s not the way fighting in hockey is supposed to work. McCoy had no business getting into the middle of it.”
“What if his family is watching?”
I put an arm around her. “That’s a hard thing to see, for sure.”
“I’m not in the mood anymore.”
“No, my either.”
We clean up our dishes from dinner, going back to the game as soon as the commercial ends. They don’t show the ice, probably because it’s still being cleaned up. One of the announcers says the rest of the game is cancelled and will be rescheduled.
“Maverick Hagen is seriously injured, but stable,” the announcer says. “He’s being taken to a hospital for treatment. We’ll provide an update as soon as we have more information.”
My shoulders sink with relief. I’ve met Maverick Hagen, and he’s a good guy. He’s the most talented player on his team, and he’s not that old. It’s sobering to think he may never play again.
“At least he’s stable,” Daphne says.
My phone dings from the other room, and Daphne gives me a little smile.
“Time for some hockey gossip?” she quips.
“Probably.”
“Go,” she says, waving a hand. “I’m going to read in bed.”
She never moved out after helping me while I recovered from my injury. I’m glad it worked out that way, because I have a feeling it would’ve taken me forever to convince her to permanently move in.
Daphne just fits. In our home, in my life, and in Giselle’s life. The three of us are a team now, and I can’t wait to add more players to it when we have more kids.
“Hey, I’m home,” Giselle calls as she walks into the apartment. “Please tell me there’s food here. I’m starving.”
I’m just picking up my phone when she walks into the kitchen.
“There’s pizza in the fridge,” I say. “How was your day?”
She sighs. “Good, but long. And now I have a ton of homework to do.”
Taking the pizza box and a bottle of water from the fridge, she waves and heads upstairs.
I exchange several texts about Maverick Hagen’s injury with Anton, Knox and a friend who owns a share of the St. Louis NHL team. Everyone is shocked by what happened, and about what it means for Hagen’s career.
By the time I put my phone down for the night and walk into our bedroom, Daphne is asleep, still wearing her reading glasses. I gently take them off and put them on the nightstand, then pick up the paperback she has lying open on her stomach and insert a bookmark. I know this drill—I do it a couple nights a week. Daphne loves to read, but she usually doesn’t get to bed until she’s too exhausted to get in more than a few minutes.
I switch off the lights, take off my clothes and climb into bed beside her. She moans softly and snuggles against me, her damp hair cold on my chest.
It looks like sex will have to wait until tomorrow. That’s okay by me. I’m so damn happy Daphne and I have a tomorrow, and hopefully many more tomorrows after that.
She’s the woman of my dreams. The one I never thought I’d actually ever find. However many more days life grants me, I want to spend every one of them with her.