Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Do you need someone to watch Lucy?” Brooke asks. All the women nod, and some volunteer.
I shake my head, smiling at my new friends that all want to help me. “No, thanks. She’ll stay at a classmate’s house as it’s a school night, and they’re good with the puppy coming to stay.”
“Puppy?” Mollie exclaims. “You didn’t say anything about a puppy?”
I have to take a moment to explain to Mollie about the two-week foster program and how Jim and I are going to get Lucy a dog next week after we have to take Brody back. This starts a cacophony of questions about what type of dog, but the conversation eventually breaks up into pockets as the waitress comes around to take our food orders.
Nora leans over to nudge me. “You look very settled and happy.”
I tilt my head. “As opposed to…?”
“When you walked in,” she replies knowingly. It’s her job to read people, so I don’t question it. “You had some weight on your shoulders. It’s gone now that you’ve committed to starting over with Jim.”
“I feel it,” I murmur. “Feel it in my very bones that it’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m happy for you,” Nora returns. “Jim is a very lucky man.”
“And I’m a lucky woman.”
So incredibly lucky my husband is made of grit and determination, and he refused to let his marriage die.
CHAPTER 17
Steele
I put away the last of the laundry I had done—a skill I’ve become adept at over the previous six months since Ella always did ours—and check my watch. I’ve got another three hours before I need to be at Ella’s to pick her up for our little overnight getaway to the Ritz.
Just another brilliant idea I had to woo my wife back into my arms permanently, and because I’ve missed her like fucking crazy the last few days. She sent me a text about half an hour ago telling me how excited she was, ending it by saying, I’m going to do things to you tonight that will have you howling.
That left me grinning and with a slight hard-on for a while.
The team plane landed back in Phoenix early this morning. The players dispersed, having the next thirty-six hours off from any commitment to the Vengeance. It was a rare treat and I knew there was nothing more perfect than to whisk Ella away somewhere romantic.
Our game against Seattle was hard-fought and with no small amount of bitterness, we lost in overtime 2-1. Still, I don’t feel there was anything we left on the table. It’s just that last night, Seattle played better than us. It happens.
I still have to pack an overnight bag, which won’t take me long, so I settle in at my kitchen table to do some online bill paying.
Another skill I had to learn, as Ella had managed the finances when we were together.
I do know if Ella and I get back together, I’m going to need to step in and help with more of the household running. It’s a lot of fucking work, and I never knew how much she did behind the scenes. If there’s one good thing that came out of me being asked to leave my own home, it forced me, at the age of thirty-three, to do a hell of a lot of growing up.
My phone rings and I nab it off the table, seeing Coach Perron’s number. Because I’m in such a good mood, knowing that within a matter of hours I’ll be in Ella’s magnificent presence, I’m cheerful when I answer. “What’s up, Coach?”
“Steele,” he says, addressing me by my last name, as he does all the players when talking business. “I need you to come into the arena.”
For a moment, I’m confused. It’s my day off. The day I want to spend with Ella. Our next game is two days away. “Excuse me?”
“Dax went in for an MRI on his shoulder this morning, and there’s a small tear in his rotator cuff. He’s out for the foreseeable future, which means you’re moving up to the first line. I’m calling a meeting now with you, Bishop, and Tacker to discuss it, then I want my first line on the ice this afternoon. You’ve got two days to get in sync with these guys. You know our next game is too important to fuck up.”
Indeed. We play the Cold Fury Wednesday night, the team we defeated for the Cup last season.
“Coach… I, um…” I stutter, wanting to tell him about my plans with Ella. Surely, we can get ice time tomorrow, and that will be enough.
But I don’t finish those thoughts.
Because this is important. It is my boss—Coach—telling me that I’m moving up from the second line to the first line, and it is imperative I have as much time with the first-line guys to become cohesive. Without a doubt, they’re getting the same call and ditching whatever personal plans they had to meet me for some practice.