Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Silence settles between us again, a much less comfortable one this time. I honestly don’t know what to say. My relatively sheltered life hasn’t given me a whole lot of context for this kind of thing.
Finally, I ask, “How long have you been clean?”
“Two and a half years.”
“Are you in a recovery program?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, that didn’t work for me. I’m not a joiner. I just made a choice to stop and did it. Cold turkey.”
“Impressive,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “Not really. It was hard as hell at first. Messy. Ugly. But then, I got into coaching kids, then adults, then other pro players. I started rebuilding my skills and realized I might still have a shot at the NHL. Aiming myself at that took me a long way. Then, eventually, I woke up one day and realized I was never going back to that dark place. Not ever again.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “So…what do you think? If you’d rather just be friends after all that, it’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you. Or be a little bitch about it.”
A smile curves my lips as I squeeze his fingers. “You’re the farthest thing from a ‘little bitch.’ Seriously.” I take a beat, composing my thoughts, wanting to meet his honesty with as much of my own as possible. “So, here’s what I think… Your past is part of your story, for sure, but it’s not who you are. I see how much you care about living your life with integrity and kindness, Tank.” He frowns, but I push on, insisting, “You are kind. The way you interact with the other students, with Mr. Sniffles, with me...” I cup his stubbled cheek in my hand. “You’re a good man trying to live a life you can be proud of in the here and now. That’s who you are. That’s the guy I admire and love spending time with.”
His eyes lock with mine, dark and intense in the fading light. “You’re the fucking sweetest, you know that?”
“I do,” I tease. “But feel free to keep telling me.”
He smiles before sobering. “I’m serious. Most people hear about my history and they… Well, let’s just say Hartley isn’t alone in believing once a loser, always a loser.”
“I’m not most people.” I lean in closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. “And you’re definitely not a loser.”
“No?” His voice drops to that gravelly register that makes my toes curl.
“No. I think you’re a survivor, forged in fire, and a more compassionate person than you would have been if your life had always been easy. You bring good things to the table, and you deserve to be judged on your present not your past. Anyone who doesn’t realize that is a poop face.”
His lips twitch. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm that sends shivers racing down my spine. “Seriously, thank you,” he whispers against my skin. “I don’t know what I did to deserve woman like you in my life, but I’m not going to fuck it up, Teach. I promise.”
I meet his gaze and something electric passes between us. Something that makes my heart race and my breath catch.
And then he’s kissing me, deep and sexy and sweet, like he’s trying to pour everything words can’t say into the press of his lips against mine. I wind my arms around his neck, melting into him as the shadows lengthen and night falls, feeling beautiful and appreciated and…home.
That’s not a thing that’s happened to me with a man before, especially not one I’ve been dating for less than a week, but I’m a person who believes in miracles.
In magic.
In cosmic connections and Fate and things that have been written in the stars.
And I’m starting to think this man might be written in mine.
CHAPTER 10
TANK
After I get home from the rink on Saturday morning, I spend way too long staring at my reflection, feeling like a teenager prepping for his first date. Which is ridiculous. I’m not the kind of man who gives much of a shit about my appearance. I’m a jeans, tee shirt, roll on some deodorant and make sure I don’t have shit in my teeth before I roll out the door kind of guy.
I’ve also been on plenty of dates.
Just not lately…
And not with someone I like as much as I already like Stephanie.
She’s incredible. From her fucking gorgeous exterior to her even prettier heart. And I’m suddenly the kind of sappy motherfucker who thinks things like that about a woman I barely know.
“Get it together, LiBassi,” I mutter as I spray some sea salt shit Stone said would “ease my frizz” into the front of my shaggy cut and poke at the resulting waves.
My reflection scowls back at me, but even my cranky face isn’t as cranky as usual.