Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
I liked staying and I liked waking up next to her.
Who was I becoming?
Bruge thudded over to us and stood there, folding his arms across his chest. He glared down at us. “Boston is playing against L.A. Our game was early today. We have time to watch. You come over to do that. I’ll make food.” His gaze indicated both of us. When neither of us argued, he clipped his head down once. “Good. Be there in one hour. I’ll text you my address.”
He moved on, saying something similar to the others.
I glanced at Sunny. “That happen often?”
“Bruge’s orders?” He grinned. “Sometimes. If we’ve had a particularly brutal loss.” He slapped my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s shower and stop on the way for drinks. Bruge only ever has water or tea, maybe beer leftover from another gathering. We can pick some up.”
Quite a few of the team was there when Sunny and I showed up. We rode together. I liked it when Sunny made the suggestion. It reminded me of when my old team would get together. Nolan and I rode together a lot of times. Sunny reminded me of Nolan, except Sunny was nicer. Nolan had more of an edge to him, which was probably why he and I were best friends. I understood him.
“We brought beer.” Sunny held up the case.
A bunch of guys cheered from the living room.
Bruge met us in the kitchen. He took the beer, putting it in the fridge and gave the protein drink in my hand a sneer. “I said I’d cook for you. I cook for you. You don’t need that.” He gestured to his stove, which had a plethora of meat. “See. Lots of protein.”
Sunny was grinning. He nabbed a beer and slipped away before I could figure out how to shift the attention to him.
“Uh.” My mind was blank. “Sorry?”
Bruge grunted. “Shoo. I like cooking. My wife is gone. Girls’ trip, so I do all the cooking for the week. Italian and Greek today. The team needs the nutrition and time together. Go watch your nemesis. Give us a cheat sheet on how better to play against him. He’s a slippery eel. Mean. Fast. And slimy. I don’t like him.” He waved for me to leave so I followed suit, grabbing a beer as well. Going to the living room, I saw space in front of one of the couches next to Meester. I sank down and the camera gave a close-up of Dane Connors’s face. Immediately my attitude soured.
“I hate that guy.”
I thought I’d been the one to say it, but it was one of our defensemen. He added, “He’s dirty.”
“He’s not as dirty as his brother. Daniel Connors is a nightmare to play against. He’ll high-stick you every time the ref’s back is turned. Guaranteed. Just start expecting it. Messes with your mind.” That was Ray.
“They hate you.” Sunny was studying me.
“Yeah, man. I’ve never seen a rivalry like what they make it out to be between you and them. What’s the backstory? Anything we should know for when we play them next week?” Jesse asked.
I knew the NHL liked to build up the rivalry between us, as did social media. I’d stopped listening to anything or going online the week leading up to a game against either of the Connors brothers so because of that I somewhat forgot how big of a deal it still was to others.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. All of us grew up here, but at different schools. We were high school rivals. As far as I can tell, Daniel just hated me off the bat.”
“Cause you’re better than him.” Meester raised his beer, taking a pull.
“Maybe. No. I’m sure that’s part of it, but it got personal when he dated my sister.”
“What? No way.”
I don’t know who said it, but a bunch of the guys leaned forward at that information.
I went back to glaring at the television. They really did love talking up Dane Connors. “Daniel did. They got in a car accident, his fault from what I was told. She was in the hospital and he ghosted her. The fucker gave her a brain injury and then said he didn’t have time for her anymore.”
“Holy fuck,” Meester commented.
“Dane’s not much better.”
“Well, they hate you. That’s for sure.” Jesse was on his phone and noticing everyone looking his way, he handed his phone over. “Daniel made a post. ‘Stick it to Griffin, little brother. Remind him he’s in our hometown next week. Not his.’ The post has over a thousand likes.”
“Shit.” Sunny shook his head. “That’s next level hate.”
I refocused on the game. “It’s just Daniel being Daniel. Best revenge is beating Boston.” I gestured to the television. “Dane is fast, but he’s got a tell.”
“He’s hard to read.”
“Nah. He’s got a tell. Watch his eyes. When he’s going to shoot, his elbow will jerk, just a tiny bit, in the direction he’s going to shoot or pass.”