Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“Good, good.” He nods slowly, attention shifting to me. “Forrester, I think there’s an error in the system. Roman’s equipment is logged under you this afternoon.”
“It’s not an error. I’m heading to the rink shortly with Hammerstein and a couple of the enforcers for a little extra practice.”
“Right before a game? Shouldn’t the guys be resting up?” he asks.
“We’ll be fine,” Roman assures him. “I’m going to head down to suit up.” He passes Callie her backpack. “I’ll see you down, there, okay?”
“Okay! Thanks for helping me with my math homework.”
“Anytime, kiddo.” Roman turns to Donnie. “You coming to the game tonight?”
“Sure am.”
“See you there.” He waves and heads down the hall.
“You have a minute?” Donnie asks.
“Sure.” My mouth is suddenly bone dry. “Callie, why don’t you drop your backpack in my office.”
“Okay!” She skips down the hall.
He waits until she disappears into my office. “I see what’s going on here.”
Heat rushes down my spine. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You’ve got our goalie helping your kid with homework?”
“Callie is my sister.”
“Right. Whatever. You’re clearly taking a page from the other office girls.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” He shakes his head. “Just remember, everything has to be inventoried properly for cleaning. When you go around Boxer, it becomes your responsibility.”
Before I can explain that I didn’t go around Boxer, he turns and walks away.
His insinuation hits hard, mainly because there’s merit in it. Is that what everyone else will see next season when we’re together? That I was just after a player? But I don’t have time to fixate on it, because I need to get on the ice.
Callie sits in the seats behind the bench, thrilled to watch her favorite players practice. She’s all waving arms and excitement as Grace skates over to accept a hug from her.
“Shouldn’t she be at practice?” Grace asks.
“They had an issue with the rink,” I explain.
“Ahh, well, that sucks.”
“This seems like a decent consolation prize.”
We start with a short warm-up before we move into more complicated stick work. It’s no longer enough to be fast and agile. Stick work is where it’s at.
While Roman has years of experience to help anticipate what’s coming at him, Ryker has exceptional agility and the ability to read a player’s intentions before he makes the move. It’s why Vander Zee brought him to the team. And why we’re on the ice hours before a game, hoping to put Ryker in net for the third period.
As much as Grace can be a brute, the guy is fucking magical with stick and puck handling. He can catch a puck midair, flip it, deke around another player, and nab it out of the air before shooting at the net. It’s pretty damn spectacular.
I’m about to tell Ryker to protect his left shoulder, because I see what Grace is planning, when Roman shouts, “Ryker, your five hole!”
The puck goes sailing past Ryker’s left ear.
I blow the whistle directly at Roman.
He raises both hands. “Sorry, Coach.”
“Can you repeat that for me, please, Goalie?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to react. But I see the heat in his eyes and hope like hell no one else can. “I’m sorry, Coach Forrester.” His voice is all gravel.
I stay firmly in coach mode, the interaction with Donnie still sitting heavy in stomach. “Don’t apologize to me; apologize to Ryker for giving him the wrong cue. You know as well as I do that Grace doesn’t need to wait until the puck hits the ice to shoot it. Those fractions of a second are all it takes for your opposition to score a goal and put our team at a disadvantage.”
Roman lowers his head in deference. “Sorry, Ryker. That goal is on me.”
I give Roman my back. “Ryker, if Hammerstein hadn’t been playing armchair coach, what would your instincts have told you to do?”
“Protect my left side, because Grace has mad stick-handling skills, and he was moving right, which tells me he’ll likely try to fake me out.”
“Good call. Trust your gut, Ryker.” I toss a puck to Grace. “Let’s try that again.”
The rest of the session goes smoothly, and I’m feeling positive when the guys hit the locker room.
Dred stops by to pick up Callie and brings me a sandwich so I’m going into the game tonight with food in my stomach. I’m lucky to have made such wonderful, supportive friends.
We still have a few hours before the game, so I decide to head up to my office to review strategy. If all goes well, we’ll pull out a win tonight against Philly.
“Forrester, I’d like to speak with you,” Vander Zee barks.
Heat works its way up my spine and my stomach twists at the look on his face. I step inside the office. “Sure. What can I do for you?”
“Did you come from the ice?”