Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
He’s basically helicopter momming me.
I hate it.
Ugh.
I really fucking appreciate it.
Just like I appreciate him lingering in the very back of this media circus for emotional support.
In some ways, he reminds me of me. How I’d be there for my dad and how Dad would never verbally admit he needed me there but make sure to wink my direction, so I knew that he did. I was always there for the tough times and over the past few months I’ve learned just how truly important it is to have someone you love there for those.
I mean yeah, I have Margot—obviously—and Letty and Winslow, but it’s a different type of love.
And I don’t know.
This type gives me a whole other strength when I really need it.
Like now.
Another round of flashes goes off prior to me providing a statement for what I hope is my final question of the morning. “To answer your question, I’m feeling excited. And proud.” Flipping my long, wavy hair over my shoulders, I continue to gush, “So proud of every part of this team. The boys have really shown up and put in the work basically since last season ended. They’ve given all of themselves whenever requested, and I couldn’t ask for a better group of guys to take the ice. They’re being coached by an incredible leader.” My hand gestures Blanc’s direction who is waiting for his stretch in front of the mic. “I have faith in him. I have faith in them. I know it’s gonna be an incredible season. I know it’s gonna be one that would’ve made my dad proud.”
The air in the room immediately shifts from the declaration.
Most of them are respectful enough not to bring him up.
Not sure if they think I can’t handle it or if they can’t.
Nonetheless, this was Dad’s franchise. This was his legacy. He won’t turn into a fucking memory that haunts us but be a spirit who inspires. Once upon a time, he raised legends. And thanks to everything he’s ever taught me, I get to do the same.
“One last question…” Florence Ramirez speaks up from her corner position.
Only if I can choke her out after answering.
My hand politely waves her direction to continue.
“Given the recent incidents,” she begins, making sure to emphasis the word with disgust, “this team you are quite proud of seems to be in disarray.”
“There wasn’t a question there, Ramirez.”
“The question,” she hisses like the snake she pretends not to be, “is how can the league or the fans trust this team the way you do when all we’ve seen lately are its failures and shortcomings and blatant disrespect for their industry by behaving so irresponsibly?”
Oh, whose jock I would ride so hard to bitch slap her with a skate just one time.
Just one time!
Snark shoots up the back of my throat and almost off my tongue when movement out of the corner of my eyes stops it.
Brendan’s slow headshake successfully ceases the hell I was about to unleash while the gentle tap to logo on his polo causes me to suck in a deep breath.
Exhale.
Focus on the key strengths like Lopez instructed.
“I understand your concern, Miss Ramirez, and to be quite Frank, it has its place.”
She doesn’t hesitate to smugly smirk.
“However,” I calmly continue, “this team is made of more than just the trouble that has been seen in the media lately. There are a number of players who eat, sleep, and bleed Dalvegan, and those are the boys the world will see hit the ice tonight. Those dedicated to giving this franchise, this league, this community the very best of them will be out there to properly represent the crest on their sweater. And for the players no longer with our team, we wish them only the very best.”
Even though Page tried to chirp me on social media for weeks following the accident until he was hit with a fucking gag order.
“As for the woman who was involved in an accident with a couple of players, she along with her three children will be in the barn tonight—located right behind the home bench—as special guests of the team. Her injuries were thankfully minor, and we look forward to seeing their smiling faces in the crowd tonight.” Ramirez is flashed one more professional smile before I turn back to the rest of the group. “On that note, I am going to hand things over to our head coach, Milano Blanc.”
Claps from me quickly catch onto the crowd allowing a warm transition of me out of the spotlight and him into it.
Strutting over in my strappy heels to Brendan is accompanied by the closing of my tan, knee length sweater blazer to cover up my skintight nude dress that Lopez insisted I wear specifically to prove I’m not ashamed of my pregnancy.
To be fair, I’m not.