Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“She brought you soup,” he points out.
“So? She’s a good friend,” I tell him, then I finally look at him. “I won’t do it to her. I won’t lead her on or get involved with her because it’s not fair to anyone. I need to fix me. I’m making me my number one right now.”
“Good,” he says, then looks at the television. “What are we watching?” I toss the remote at him without saying anything. I don’t say anything to him for the rest of the night, and when he leaves, I lie in bed, awake most of the night.
“The swelling has gone down,” the doctor says when he examines my foot two days later. “How is the tenderness?” he asks, pressing down on my foot, but the pain is dull.
“Not as bad as it was when it happened,” I tell him, and he goes over to his chart where he starts to write the notes. I hate this part, not knowing what he’s writing in there.
“My advice is to keep off it for another four to five days,” he starts saying. “But you hockey players never listen.” He laughs, shaking his head. “For it not to give you any other problems, do yourself a favor and just rest it.”
“But …” I start to say, and he holds up his hand to stop me.
“I get it. Your team needs you.” He closes the file. “But the season just started, so take the time to heal.”
I nod my head at him and put my sock and my sneaker on. “Thanks, Doc,” I say to him and walk out with him to the waiting room where I’m shocked to find Matthew. “Jesus. First rehab and now this.” I smirk at him.
“Figured you needed another ride,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “What did he say?”
“He thinks it’s healing fine, and that I should stay off it for a couple more days,” I tell him, and he nods at me. We walk out to his truck. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”
“Yeah,” he tells me. “I’m going to grab the private plane with Doug.”
“Am I dropping you off at home?” he asks me, and I just shake my head.
“I was going to hit up the gym,” I tell him, and he just looks over at me.
“How about you listen to the doctor and just rest it for the next couple of days?” he asks, and I roll my eyes. “Take advantage of the break.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, and he makes his way to my place. “You, of all people, know how hard it is for a player to take it easy and not be on the ice with his team.”
“I know, but you do us no good if you get on the ice before you’re ready,” he says, turning to me. “Listen to the doctor,” he says to me right before I shut the door on him talking and turn to go into my house.
* * *
I let myself in, going to my apartment and tossing the key on the counter when the phone rings in my pocket. “Hello?” I say, not even looking at the name.
“So what’s the verdict?” Zoe asks me, and I smile as I sit on the couch with the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Are we keeping the foot, or does he want to cut it off?”
I laugh. It’s been a couple of days since she brought me soup, a couple of days since I’ve seen or spoken to her. A couple of days since we almost fucking kissed. I want to say I haven’t thought about her, but I would be lying. She is there always in the back of my head. “They just cut it off.”
“Well, that solves everyone’s problem, then.” She laughs.
“Yeah, I have to stay off it for the next couple of days,” I tell her. “I’m bored shitless, and”—I sigh—“I’m done with 90 Day Fiancé.”
“Isn’t it the best?” she asks. I can picture her smiling as she asks me. I can picture her eyes lighting up, and her hands getting animated while she says it. “So what’s next?”
“No clue,” I tell her. “I’m going to go through Netflix and see if there are some shows I should binge.”
“There are a bunch. Ozark is amazing.” She names all the shows I should watch. “Anyway, I have to go and show some houses,” she finally says. “Let me know what you decide to watch.”
“I will,” I tell her and disconnect the phone. I try to ignore Jeffrey’s nagging voice in the back of my mind. I grab the yellow legal pad that I started writing on and the pen. I thought putting my resentment and fears on paper was a good start, but while writing it, it gets harder and harder.