Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
He shoots me a look. “Mae’s supposed to be here by now.”
“Maybe she’s hanging out with the other wives,” Nolan says, skating a little further away to pass the puck again.
He passes it to Logan, who lets it slide by, since his eyes are still on the stands. I see the puck bunnies again. There are six of them now. They’re all looking at us, but they don’t try to get our attention, which is odd.
“Puck bunnies don’t even waste their time on him anymore, since they know they’ll get rejected,” Nolan says, answering the question in my head, as he brings the puck back.
“I bet they had a pity party about it,” I say.
“Who the fuck cares? He’s a lucky motherfucker,” Nolan says. “Even I’d beat his ass if he fucked around on Mae.”
Fitz narrows his eyes over his shoulder as he sets the phone to his ear, probably calling Mae as we speak.
“I don’t think Fitz would ever be that stupid,” I say, looking at the side of his face. “I’d beat his ass with you, and then I’d make my move and try to get Mae.”
“You wanna fight, Duke? Is that what this is?” Fitz turns to me immediately, expression threatening. I laugh. He doesn’t. He skates closer to me, but before he can say anything else, he softens his voice as he speaks into the phone. “Hey, where are you?”.
“Everything good?” I ask when he hangs up the phone.
“Yeah. Her brother checked out of his hotel and wanted to put his suitcase in our room until we leave,” he says.
“Even if she weren’t Logan’s girl,” Nolan starts, since he can’t seem to let this go. “You wouldn’t try to get with her.”
“And you would?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Stop talking about my fucking wife,” Fitz growls.
“We’re saying we wouldn’t go for her,” Nolan says. “Because we’re fucking pathetic.”
I nod gravely. Fitz rolls his eyes.
“Look at what we can have.” Nolan lifts the stick in the direction of the puck bunnies.
The three of us look.
“They’re fucking hot,” Nolan says.
“They are,” I agree, as I look at each of them.
I already know how this ends, though, and it isn’t with my dick in any of their mouths. I’m sure no sane person would pass them up, but what the fuck would I know about that? Lyla took what was left of my sanity with her.
“The two of you are single,” Fitz says, turning his back on them to face us. “You do realize that, right?”
I glare at him and turn my back to them as well.
“That’s why I said we’re pathetic.” Nolan gives them his back. “I can’t believe they’re still standing there.”
“And I can’t believe they’re making us do this shoot-out,” Fitz says, stealing the puck from me. He’s complained about the shoot-out five times.
“Are you scared cuz you know I’m gonna whoop your ass?” I steal the puck from him, as we skate to the other side of the rink.
“Please.” He scoffs.
“Speaking of ass whoopings,” Nolan starts. “Which idiot thought it was a good idea to put the three of us on the same team?”
“Someone who wanted to watch an ass whooping,” I say.
“I bet a club is trying to get the three of us on their roster now,” Nolan says, shooting me a hard look. “But one of us is retiring, so that won’t happen.”
“What’s the real reason you’re retiring?” Fitz asks as we stop. He passes the puck to Nolan, who passes it to me.
“I told you, my father. . .”
“Oh, fuck off with that,” Fitz says, cutting me off the same way our friend did earlier. “You’re going to walk away from this.” He signals around the arena. “For your dickhead father? Don’t give me that shit.”
“He didn’t even go to any of the finals games, and they were right by his building,” Nolan says.
My stomach still tightens at the mention of that tournament. No one blames me for the game not taking place, at least publicly, but the guilt eats me alive each time I think about it. I know the attack wasn’t my fault, and there was no way I could play, but it pisses me off that it affected everyone else, too. I try to push the thought aside. I’ve been in a semi-good mood this weekend, because I’m trying to savor each moment of this — being on the ice, the comradery, the atmosphere — all of it. I’ve managed to push most negative thoughts of Lyla James aside for this, but I have no doubt that when I step off the plane in Chicago, the resentment will grow.
“Look, you need a break? Fine. It’s off-season anyway,” Fitz says. “But don’t fucking retire.”
“Have you considered that maybe finding her isn’t a possibility?” Nolan adds.
I grit my teeth. “It’s not a possibility.”