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)
Once he’s fetched it, I take the card quickly, stuffing it into my pocket without bothering to read the front. After all, I know who she is. And where she teaches. Shane pointed her studio out on our way to lunch after a coaching session before he left to play for Kansas City. “Anything else, doc? I’ll add a kale smoothie into my routine, too. I hear kale heals all things.”
“Kale is great,” Peterson says with a wry smile. “But not a replacement for stress management. Just go take a class or two. You’ll thank us later.”
As we head toward the parking lot, Stone triples down, “Seriously, just go to yoga, okay? Yoga’s great and…well, I ran into Garcia today. He’s gunning for you, man. He thinks he can get promoted to starting goalie if he shows you up in training camp.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, my stupid heart pounding faster again. “What a little fuck he is. We practiced together a few weeks ago. He was blowing smoke up my ass about how much he was going to ‘learn from me’ the entire time.”
“Yeah, he’s a weasel,” Stone says. “But he’s young and fresh, with no bum body parts. Unlike geezers like us.”
Stone is even older than I am—he just celebrated his thirty-third birthday last weekend—but he doesn’t have anything close to my checkered past. He made the transition to the Badgers after a solid career with our old team in Washington. He’s getting paid good money to be here, not pulling the lowest salary in the NHL as a last-minute goalie replacement management clearly isn’t certain won’t disappoint them in the end.
“The more you can get your house in order, the better,” Stone continues. “Get that blood pressure down, take care of your shoulder, make it as easy as possible for management to welcome you to the team with open arms.”
I nod. “You’re right. I’ll find a yoga class and back off any shoulder-taxing shit in my coaching sessions. I didn’t come this far to hand the starting position to Garcia because I was pushing too hard.”
“Good.” Stone lifts a hand for me to clasp as we stop by where I parked my Harley. “And sleep in tomorrow, okay? I’ll cover you at camp.”
I nod, waving as he starts toward his truck. “Thanks, brother. Appreciate it.”
I settle my helmet into place before pulling out Stephanie’s card, staring at it in the glow of the parking lot lights. The thought of subjecting myself to toxic hippie positivity for a couple hours a week isn’t ideal, but I want a successful return to the NHL more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
If there’s even a snowball’s chance in hell that Stephanie Love can help with that…
I tuck the card back into my pocket.
One session. I’ll try one session, see how many cavities I get, and go from there.
After all, how bad could it possibly be?
CHAPTER 2
STEPHANIE
Breathe in light; breathe out tension.
Breathe in love; breathe out fear.
That’s my mantra on Friday afternoon, as I quietly chant through my meditation. The late afternoon stillness wraps around me like a blanket, offering peace before I jump back into teaching for several more hours.
Well, something close to peace anyway…
Mr. Sniffles, my gold and gray pug, snores with impressive volume from his bed next to my yoga mat, occasionally emitting a snort so loud it threatens to shatter my Zen and the space-time continuum. But that’s okay. His little round body rising and falling with each snore is its own kind of mindfulness reminder.
My phone buzzes on the floor beside me. Twice. Three times. Four.
I ignore it. The messages will still be there when my fifteen minutes of recentering are over.
The phone buzzes six more times in rapid succession.
I crack a lid.
It buzzes twice more.
So much for enlightenment…
With a sigh, I pluck it from the ground.
Drake. Ugh, of course it’s Drake, the only person I know who would text a dozen times without waiting for an answer.
I should ignore him. I promised myself I would ignore him. I promised Bree I would ignore him.
Eight more buzzes.
“Geez, all right, you maniac,” I mutter, snatching the phone and scrolling to the top of his stream of textual diarrhea.
From the texts of Stephanie Love
and Drake Barrow
Drake: Hey Steph, you up there? Come down and see me, baby.
Drake: Steph, I know you’re up there. Your window is open.
Drake: Only YOU would have your window open when it’s 80 degrees outside.
Drake: Steph?
Drake: Stephanie?
Drake: STEPHANIE LOVE ANSWER ME PLEASE. Are you napping?
Drake: Sorry to wake you if you’re napping, but I need to see you. It’s important.
Drake: Really important.
Drake: Like life-changing important.
Drake: I’m literally right downstairs. All you have to do is buzz me in.
Drake: I have something for you.
Drake: Come on, I’m burning up out here. It’s hot as balls today.
Drake: Please? Just answer?