Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
The guy next to me on my flight to New York has been giving me hockey advice since he saw my Blaze cap and recognized me as a player for the team he’s loved his whole life. Right now, he’s telling me how to score on a power play.
“You can’t miss if you follow that strategy,” he says emphatically. “You think you can pass that one on to your coach?”
“I…”
The young woman in front of us in first class saves me from having to answer. She turns around and glares at Rich, the guy chatting my ear off.
“Dude, you’re so fucking loud. Can you shut up?”
“Well, excuuuuse me, you entitled millennial snowflake.” Rich huffs and rolls his eyes. “You gonna cry about it now?”
“No, I just want you to shut up, for the love of God. If the guy next to you is a pro hockey player, don’t you think he knows what he’s doing?”
“Did the Blaze make it past the opening round of the playoffs?”
The woman glares at him. “I have no clue, and I really don’t care. Can you just turn the volume down about a hundred notches?”
Rich mimics her in a whiny tone. “Can you turn down the volume about a hundred notches? You’ve got no respect, snowflake.”
A flight attendant approaches and gives Rich a stern look. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to be quiet. You’re disturbing the other passengers.”
I jump on the opportunity to get free from Rich’s advice, putting in my AirPods and leaning my head back, eyes closed, hoping I look unapproachable.
I like talking to fans about hockey, but Rich is obnoxious and my mind is on one thing only today—Abby. I’ve been thinking about her pretty much every second since we got off the phone yesterday and I booked my flight to see her.
Her news gutted me hard. In the last few years, I’ve learned what deep loss feels like. But what I’ve been through isn’t the same as what Abby faced. I cried on the drive home as I thought about it. It made me think of Matt and Danielle.
Matt went quickly—a roadside bomb ended him and he never saw it coming. Danielle’s death was slower. We lost her over the course of several months, giving her and her children the chance to say a long, painful goodbye.
I knew my brother better than anyone, and I got to know his wife a lot better over the months she lived with me during her illness. Danielle got comfort from knowing her kids were happy and healthy when she died. She told them to live on for her, to not let sadness take over and rob them of their childhood.
Matt and Danielle both would have preferred to die a thousand deaths rather than see one of their children suffer. And now I feel the same way about their kids. I’d give my blood, my organs, my very life to protect them, without hesitation.
But Abby never got that chance. Her daughter’s young life was snuffed out in one violent instant. I wish I could go back in time and be there as she sat at Chloe’s bedside. I don’t know how Abby’s husband could abandon her during her darkest hour. I don’t know how much he hurt from the guilt and having to let his baby girl move on to the next life, but he shouldn’t have left Abby to handle it alone.
I want to hold her. To take away even a fraction of her pain. The kids are in good hands with Sheila, and this is where I belong right now.
After all the times I told myself I don’t have time for a relationship, this thing with Abby snuck up and took me by surprise. There’ll be no more mental back and forth about whether I can be there for her—I will be.
Abby deserves more than what she got and more than what she has now. I just have to hope she’ll let me be her more.
* * *
Abby
Luca Campbell can be stubborn. He wouldn’t give me his flight information so I could send a car to pick him up. Instead, he asked for my address and said he’d be here around 1:00 p.m.
It’s about that time now, and I’m sitting not so patiently in my living room, scrolling through emails to distract myself. I’ve cleaned the apartment and prepared a pot roast with some vegetables that are slow cooking in the kitchen.
After our conversation yesterday, I feel emotionally hollowed out. It’s not a bad thing, though. In the past five days, I’ve released all the emotions I work so hard to keep buried every day. I’ve had the nightmares, cried the tears and felt the pain. I’ve remembered. And while all of that hurts like hell, I have finally accepted what happened.