Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“No,” he says and then looks at me, “but my mom said I have to eat them to grow.” I try to hide my smile.
“Your mother is right. My mom used to make broccoli every single night,” I say, and he looks at me in shock. “I used to give it to the dog. Don’t tell anyone.”
“We don’t have a dog,” he says, and I grab a plate of chicken and pasta and put it on his tray. “I love pasta.”
“Me, too.” I grab my own plate and walk over to an empty table. He sits down, and I don’t know if I should cut the chicken for him or not. “You need help?” I ask him, and he just shakes his head. The chair beside me pulls out, and Amy sits down.
“If you want, I can find his team coach and take him to them,” she says. I look over at Dylan, who isn’t even listening while he tries to cut his chicken after giving up eating his pasta.
“It’s fine,” I say, leaning over and cutting his chicken, and he just nods as he puts a piece in his mouth. Amy goes over the things happening this week and lets me know that a couple of my teammates will be coming by on Wednesday to get on the ice with me for a couple of hours.
I look over at Dylan who finished his whole plate and is now drinking the apple juice that I put down for him. “Can I go watch?” he asks of the game taking place in one of the rinks. About five other kids are standing over there to watch, so I just nod.
“I can call and see if my brother and my brothers-in-law want to come and lend a hand,” I suggest, and Amy nods. The bell rings somewhere, and the kids look around. One of the coaches claps his hands and tells all the kids to go into their locker room for the second part of the day.
I finish my lunch and then walk back to the locker room, taking my phone out and sending a group text to Matthew, Max, Viktor, and Evan.
Me: Do you old men want to get on the ice in a couple of weeks? I can get some canes to help you out.
Before I have a chance to put the phone back into my pocket, Evan answers me.
Evan: M&M are dinosaurs. Can they even skate?
I laugh. When Evan started dating Zara, he gave Matthew and Max that nickname, and it’s stuck ever since. Forget the fact that they hated each other when they first met, but then Max eloped with our sister, Allison, something that Matthew refuses to let him forget. But now they are both working for the Stingers organization.
Not bothering to answer, I tie my skates and get on the ice with the older kids. This is why I do this; the kids are so good. There is one kid, in particular, who flies on the ice. His hands are the best I’ve ever seen, and he has hockey sense.
I blow the whistle, and they come over to me. “How long have you been playing hockey?” I ask the five kids who are huffing, trying to get their breathing under control.
Everyone says since they were six except the kids with the hands. “Two years,” he says. I look at him and make a mental note to ask him more questions after.
The time flies, and by the time I look around, it’s five o’clock, and I get off the ice. Taking off all my stuff, I change into shorts and a shirt. I grab my phone and see that I have forty missed texts and shake my head, laughing as I read through them.
Matthew: Who you calling old? Max is older than I am.
Max: I’m like fine wine; I get better with age.
Matthew: I just threw up in my mouth.
Viktor: I’m in.
Evan: We should just have the family vacation there instead of up north.
Max: That sounds good to me. I’ll mention it to Allison.
Matthew: The sister you stole.
I laugh at the back and forth, and I’m about to answer when I see Dylan sitting on the step facing the front door.
“Hey there,” I say, putting my phone away. “Whatcha doing?”
“I’m waiting for my mom,” he says, trying to blink away tears. I sit next to him.
“Mind if I wait with you?” I ask, and he just shrugs. “Do you want to call your mom?” I take out my phone when he nods.
I give him my phone, and he takes it and dials her number. She must answer right away.
“Mom,” he says softly, and she must be telling him something. “Okay,” he says. “I will.” He hands me back the phone. “She’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“That’s okay. It’ll fly by,” I say. “Are you hungry?” He just shakes his head. “How did you like the first day?”