Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“You okay over there?” Emma’s tone is careful and concerned.
Am I that obvious?
Shaking my head, I turn to Emma. Her eyes meet mine, narrowing slightly to study me.
“Yeah. Why?” I answer as I hug my knees to my chest.
Real smooth, Cass. Now it’s totally obvious you aren’t.
She inclines her head. “Well, for starters, your shaking head, body language, and words. Everything seems to conflict.” She widens her eyes in an Are you going to argue? expression. When I don’t, she continues. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s the deal?”
A part of me wants to make up some lame lie in an effort to keep this one thing to myself. If for no other reason than to attempt a second try at erasing him from my thoughts.
Never gonna happen.
I take a deep breath and go with the truth. “I know him.”
She blinks and splutters before finally getting herself together.
“Hold up.” Her hand lifts. “You know who?” Her nose is scrunched, and her eyes are narrowed.
“Him.” I drop my legs back down to the floor and point at his picture frozen on the screen as they continue to talk about just how incredible he is.
I once thought he was, too.
Two minutes later, Em still looks like a deer caught in headlights. Her green eyes are wide, and she shakes her head back and forth in disbelief. It looks like she has a halo around her thanks to her swaying honey-blonde hair. “You know that man? The absolute hottest guy in hockey.”
I roll my eyes despite my turning stomach. “What do you know about hockey, Emma?”
“Answer the damn question, woman.”
“Yes,” I mutter before reaching toward the coffee table, grabbing my glass, and taking a long swig of the now warm tequila.
I don’t even react as it burns, sliding down my throat. I’m officially numb.
“You know a professional hockey player?” she questions.
I nod, wondering how I can possibly get out of talking about it anymore.
In true Emma fashion, she jumps right in. “You need to start from the beginning. How am I just hearing about this?”
“Umm…”
It’s not an intelligent way to bypass a topic you’d rather skip, but right now, my words escape me.
My brain’s gone foggy.
Emma’s lips purse, and she places the popcorn bowl on her lap. “No ‘umm.’ Talk.” She grabs a handful of popcorn and shoves it in her mouth, looking like this is panning out to be quite the entertainment for her.
Placing the glass down, I close my eyes and try to think of a plausible explanation. My past is just that—my past. He was the boy I once considered my protector. In the grand scheme of things, it was only for a moment, and the sad fact is, he forgot about me.
It’s heartbreaking.
Humiliating.
Typical.
I thought he was different. That—unlike my mom who had no choice because she died, leaving me alone with my drunk, negligent father—I meant something to Aiden. And that he’d choose not to leave me.
But he turned out to be no different.
Despite all that, I’m still not willing to share pieces of his past. Especially knowing how hard that past was. Like me, his life wasn’t sunshine and roses. The only difference is, he made something of himself.
I exhale, feeling defeated and tired. “I just do. How I know him isn’t the point.”
“Then what is the point?” she asks around a mouthful of popcorn. Butter runs down her chin. She swipes it away, undeterred. Emma is a dog with a chew toy.
Lifting my hands, I bury my head in them. “I don’t know,” I groan.
I’m so off-kilter at the moment. I can’t even think on my feet, which isn’t normal for me. I’ve gotten good at spinning narratives, but tonight, I can’t.
My stomach feels tight, and my heart seems to think I just ran a marathon. It’s beating so fast. Before I can contain myself, the words slip from my lips. “I wish I could see him…talk to him.”
See why he never came back.
A part of me knows…His hatred for his mom kept him away, but a part of me, a big part, wanted him to come back in spite of that.
Emma’s eyes narrow in on me. “Then why don’t you?”
Fear.
It’s the first word to pop into my head. But as I think about her question and forget all about the past and how scared I am to confront him, the answer is actually simple for a change. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
Finding him is easy enough, considering his schedule is plastered all over the internet, but gaining access to him would be much more difficult. They don’t let just anyone past security.
“Call him?” she suggests.
I frown. Emma is not typically an airhead.
“How exactly do you think I’ll find his number?” I roll my eyes.
“Google? Facebook…Insta? That’s how I stalk people.”
My palm hits my forehead. “He’s not just anyone, Em. I doubt his information is public. You saw him and heard what they said about his skills. Millions of hockey fans are trying to get a piece of Aiden Slate.”