Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Or…ever.
No, I refuse to even consider that. I’m not going to let the possibility enter my head again. My piece of shit father swore I’d never make it in the NHL, that I didn’t have what it takes to make my dreams come true any more than he did when he got kicked out of the minors for juicing, and he doesn’t get to win.
I’m going to win. I’m going to get back in the starting lineup and bask in the certainty that wherever my deadbeat dad is right now, he’s confronted with how wrong he was about me every time he watches his favorite sport on television.
And maybe I’ll win the girl while I’m at it.
Why the fuck not?
Surely, in four weeks—I’m going to heal in four weeks, not six—Mel will realize how much she likes having me around. Then, I’ll be headed back to Minneapolis with a functional shoulder and a new girlfriend.
I’m going to manifest that shit…as soon as I stop wanting to vomit and cut off my left arm at the same time.
The pain management team eventually arrives and soon I’m drifting on a dreamy pink cloud as Gram helps me brush my teeth. I spit into a lima bean-shaped container afterward and vaguely remember asking why it’s shaped like a lima bean and making jokes about Gram’s disgusting white bean chili.
Melissa promises she’ll change my mind about white chili with her turkey and white bean recipe. I tell her I can’t wait to “eat the shit out of her chili” in a way that makes Gram roll her eyes and excuse herself to call her boyfriend with an update on my condition.
After that, things get fuzzy, but when I wake up to pale winter sunlight streaming through the window, the first thing I do is glance at the chair in the corner.
But Melissa is gone and when Gram comes back into the room with coffee a few minutes later, she’s alone and only carrying one cup.
“Melissa went home to grab a shower before work,” Gram says, reading my mind, as usual. “But she’ll stop by the house later to check in on how you’re doing. Slasher’s on his way to get us. As long as you can keep down food this morning, the doctor said you’re cleared for discharge.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “Bring on the bland hospital grub.”
Gram comes to stand beside my bed. “The trays arrive between six-thirty and seven-thirty. In the meantime, we can talk about dating single mothers, and how you shouldn’t do it unless you’re serious, Aaron.”
“Come on, Gram,” I say. “You raised me right. Don’t stress.”
“I’m not stressed,” she says. “I’m serious. Melissa’s been through a lot and she’s your sister’s fiancé’s twin sister. This could get messy, Aaron.”
“Not a chance,” I assure her. “Have some faith. It’ll be fine.”
I honestly think it will be.
Which just goes to show I’m an idiot when I’m high on pain medication.
Chapter 7
Melissa
I don’t know how word got around Bad Dog that I was with Aaron at the hospital last night, but boy, did it get around.
By nine a.m., I’ve had more customers breezing in through my catering company’s front door than I usually have in an entire week.
Only, they aren’t customers. They’re sports ball gossip mongers, desperate for information on Aaron’s injury, his plans for vengeance against the Wisconsin player who rammed him into the boards, or the 411 on the exact nature of my relationship with our local hockey celebrity.
The last line of interrogation is, of course, the worst.
“Now that we’re alone, I need the truth, woman. You totally tapped that ass, didn’t you?” Tessa is one of my dearest friends, my oldest employee, and the only woman I trust with a fish dish at a wedding.
But today, she’s driving me insane.
“No, I did not tap that ass,” I lie, dumping marinade over a giant dish of chicken breasts in the prep kitchen.
Staying busy is key. As long as I stay busy, Tessa won’t get a good look at my face. I’m a decent liar, but my good friends know I can’t maintain eye contact while I do it.
“I knew his grandmother would be alone because Matty took Nora on an overnight trip to his treehouse,” I continue, carrying the marinade tub over to the sink and turning the water on. “And I know she can’t drive, so I offered to drive her. That’s it.”
Tessa sighs. “This isn’t the answer I wanted. I wanted you to tell me that you had hot, filthy sex with him, and that his dick is even more magical than the gossip sites say it is.”
I spin over my shoulder. “What? Gossip sites talk about Aaron’s penis?”
“Totally,” she says, slapping a salmon filet on her giant cutting board. “They say it’s the most magical peen of all, a true unicorn in a world of pencil dicks and baby gherkins. One of his exes allegedly leaked pictures to the press that prove it’s a fantastic beast, but I haven’t seen them.” She chuckles as she sharpens her knife. “Not that I haven’t looked.”