Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 53034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
A shitty mindset is like an injury. The body and mind are connected, and if your mind’s not where it needs to be, your body won’t be either.
Carter comes over to us, sweat dripping from his hair. He’s stripped off everything but his pants and is about to get in the shower.
“Let’s go get a drink at Duck’s,” he says, looking at me and then at Lennox.
“Yeah,” I say.
Lennox just looks at the floor.
“Lennox?” Carter prods. “You in?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t, man. Gotta watch film.”
“I’m pulling rank on this one. You’re in. The film can wait.”
He walks away, the conversation over. Then he calls over his shoulder, “Tell everyone else, Lennox!”
Lennox grimaces, clearly aggravated. No one wants to be the guy who played a shit game and then tells everyone he’s going out for drinks after.
“I’ll do it, man,” I tell him.
Talia is waiting for me in the training room, wearing sweatpants and a baggy Crush T-shirt. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a bun.
“Ready?” she asks.
I take a few more steps until I’m close enough that she’s forced to crane her neck to keep her eyes on mine. I don’t want anyone overhearing our conversation.
“Almost. Where are your usual pants?”
She furrows her brow, confused. “I didn’t know I had usual pants.”
“Yeah. Tight ones. So I can admire your ass in the mirror.”
She flushes. “Please. I’m built like a Pixar Mom.”
“Then I’ve got a thing for your Pixar Mom ass, and now I’ll be laying three compliments on you.”
She looks away like she’s annoyed, but I don’t miss the smile playing on her lips.
“I heard about the card you sent to Isaac. I like how you fit in so well here, and you’re perceptive about what people need and when.”
When her eyes find mine again, she’s smiling for real. A full, radiant, no-sarcasm smile.
“Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
I grin. “Look at you, getting better at taking compliments.”
Her smile widens.
“Next,” I say. “You have a beautiful smile. When I make you smile, it makes my whole day.”
“Christ, get a room, you two,” Bash mutters as he walks past.
I immediately take a step back. I didn’t realize I was being so obvious, and if Turner knows how I feel about Talia, she’ll never set foot in this locker room again.
“You’re amazing at stretching me,” I say, keeping my tone low. “My personal trainer measures my range of motion, and it’s gotten better since I started working with you.”
“Really?”
I nod. “I figured I was maxed out on range of motion, and he did, too.”
“Can I see the numbers sometime?”
“Anytime. I keep them in my pants.” I gesture at my crotch and she laughs.
She lets out a real, unguarded laugh, throwing her head back. It’s a bright, infectious sound I love bringing out of her.
Then she turns serious. “Okay, hip flexors. We have to get going. I heard you’re going out with the guys.”
“We both are.”
She furrows her brow, still smiling. “We’ll see about that.”
I mimic her kneeling lunge position, stretching the muscles I used skating in the game. Leo joins us and does the stretch, too, not saying a word.
This has become our postgame routine. Talia helps Melina prep ice tubs and massage players who need it, and then Melina continues that work while Talia stretches anyone who wants to be led in stretches.
Melina’s been pushing to get an assistant for a while now, and Talia’s presence has demonstrated the need for it.
“Butterfly stretch,” Talia says, putting her knees out and putting the soles of her feet together. “Just hold this and let it stretch your hips out.”
She smiles at something behind me and I glance over my shoulder. Bash and Lennox have joined the group. I’ve been telling everyone how much stretching with her is helping me, and my teammates are finally getting the message.
The more guys who come to these sessions, the higher the chances she can start to get paid for her work with a permanent place on our staff.
“I actually miss fart yoga.” Melina laughs. “No one tell Isaac. It’s not that I miss the farts, I just miss how happy it makes him.”
We’re at the bar we go to after games, everyone sitting in a room off the main area that the owner keeps reserved for us after home games.
The whole team came, and so did Melina and a couple of our interns. Well, the whole team except Maxim. His wife is a ball and chain who doesn’t let him go out.
“What can I get you?” our server asks.
“Start us out with ten orders of cheeseballs, ten potato skins, and ten mozzarella sticks,” I say. “Put those on my tab.”
When Bash told us this bar, which is only a couple of miles from our arena, was possibly closing because business wasn’t good, we made it our official postgame hangout spot. The owner has since decorated the bar with Crush jerseys and memorabilia we supplied, and he plays every one of our games on the bar’s televisions.