Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Our faces immediately whip over to where Blanc has arrived behind us pushing Frosky to politely state, “Hey, Coach.”
“Snowman.” His cordial nod is delivered to me next. “Tendy.”
“Coach.”
“Tendy Junior.” Bronny’s sneering barely has time to be flashed courtesy of Coach continuing. “Gilly as in my baby sister Gilly?”
She’s not a baby.
She’s a full-blown woman.
We’re talkin’ Shania Twain would be hella proud.
We’re talkin’ Fleetwood Mac used her for inspiration.
We’re talkin’ Whitney and Chaka Khan turned it into an anthem on her behalf.
Sure, he’s her best friend and cool with her datin’ one-offs or whatever, but I get the vibe that when it comes to the man who’s gonna have more with her – me – it’s not gonna go down nearly that smoothly.
I’m gettin’ a total Luther Ingram melody, and he doesn’t even have a clue about us yet.
Well.
Other than she is part of an us.
“You talkin’ shit about her?” He folds his arms unhappily across his Dalvegan jacket bearing chest. “Why?” Confusion cakes itself in place. “Wait. How?” Crinkles to his forehead prompt me to nervously swallow. “How do you know anything about her?”
Panic pierces my gaze along with Bronny’s.
“She is the teeth doc, Coach,” Frosky swiftly inserts for us. “Bronskie went to get his done pre-school.”
“He’s a bit old for preschool, Groffee,” Coach playfully goads. “Have you tried enrolling him in grade school?”
Nervous laughter is hard to hide.
But I still try.
“Isn’t that where you should be now?” Blanc precedes to investigate. “Not here? Talkin’ shit about the woman who’s giving you panty dropping gibs instead of letting you end up toothless like Looft?”
“We uh…” my bag gets a small adjustment, “we moved Bronny here from Middlebrook to live with me. I got guardianship.” Coach’s eyes cut over, encouraging me to keep talking, “Better schools. Better um…attention. More attention? More role models?”
“You’re not talking about Frosky, right?” Coach teases on a small chortle.
“Highstick to the face?” Snowman lets his head fall to one side. “Honestly?”
“I’d have his hide in school right now if there hadn’t been a small fuck up in his paperwork.”
“Which means you’re here for pracky,” he warmly concludes. “Got blades?”
Bronny quickly shakes his head.
“Swing by Bricks’ office. Let him hook you up. He’s got spares – likely unclaimed from last season.” Another kind grin is flashed. “You can join us on the ice. You know. Since it’s nothing ‘official’, aye?”
“Correct,” Frosky spews before I can. “This is nothing official, so may I ask why you are here?”
Thank fuck one of us is using the squishy thing inside their head for more than just music.
“Budgeting meeting got postponed,” he informs on an innocent shrug. “Figured I’d come hang out with you boys. Fuck around.” His eyebrows waggle. “Have a little more fun than we can during reg.”
That was our thought process too.
Except it ain’t mine anymore.
Now, I gotta worry about makin’ sure no one says anything that gives away anything before Gilly and me get the chance to tell him.
Fuck. Me.
It’s probably gonna be my little bro that lets the shit slip.
Like a Freudian fuck you or somethin’.
Blanc walks with us to the locker room preventing the conversation from resuming anything we were previously talking about; however, Bronny’s bitching about wanting more drive time actually comes in handy.
The buffer prevents anyone from letting Gilly’s name join the conversation again as well as acts as ideal segue for me to escort him to grab spare skates from the equipment management office.
Once we’re laced up with 3Ps in our possession – Bronny with one Snowman lets him borrow and me my favorite pracky stick – and put on light gear, we join the group in the rink, not surprised to find almost the entire roster ready to play.
That’s how it goes with this team.
We’re together in this shit.
Whether we’re in the barn or out of it.
Kinda one of the reasons I have hope that no one will blow the whole me bangin’ the coach’s sister thing before it’s time to reveal it.
Huh.
They do gender reveals on the ice.
Is there one for like…couple reveals?
Maybe like purple?
Or…green?
Green implyin’ they’re related to a team member?
Would that be weird?
Sounds weird.
Even for me.
What is surprising about our current ice sitch?
The setup.
It reminds me of one I haven’t seen since Pee-Wee.
Wait.
Mini mites.
“Welcome home, boys,” Blanc warmly greets us all from where he’s standing beside the equipment position at the faceoff circle. “Surprised to see me, aye?”
The collective murmurs are happy.
Even mine.
Yeah, this was not what I had in mind for the morning and smelling like his sister in the best ways possible just became even less of a good call now that he can probably smell me, but in general?
I like Coach here.
He watches out for us.
And he’s easily sixty times less terrifying than Hot Rocket.
“Well, despite this being nothing offic’, I’mma start this sesh, the way I think matters most.” His eyes begin gradually scanning the crowd. “Most of you know our motto – as it trickles down through the ranks – but for those that don’t, prepare to learn it.” He momentarily pauses to make heavier eye contact with a couple of the new callups. “And live it.” Blanc spreads his attention around. “You will see these words. You will hear these words. You will taste, smell, and touch these words in this barn and for this barn.” The small shift on his skates assists in keeping him balanced. “You will say them. You will believe them. You will be them whenever you lace up regardless of if it’s offic’ or not. Am I making myself clear?”