Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
We hold each other, shaken, our mouths seeking each other for long comedown kisses that brand themselves on my chest.
She said she needs me.
She meant it. We fought her insecurities and won. We’re going to make it as a couple.
In that moment, nothing can go wrong.
Chapter Ten
BRITTA
I’m in Sumner’s kitchen the next morning, having breakfast with his family, when his phone rings. It’s weird, the way everyone stops what they’re doing. His sister ceases turning over the bacon; his mom pauses in the act of pouring orange juice. It’s as though everyone senses that there is something about this 9:00 a.m. phone call that requires everyone’s attention. And I’m not sure why, but my heart starts to pound dully, palms dampening.
“Hello?” Sumner turns slightly to observe the sudden stillness of the kitchen with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, hey, coach. What’s up?”
The oil sizzling in the pan might as well be a foghorn blaring over a silent ocean.
“You’re serious?” His chest dips, his free fingers plowing through his hair. “They’re really bringing me up. That’s—”
Everyone moves at once, chairs scraping across the floor, arms lifted in victory. Sumner’s mother yelps and does a little dance by the stove.
It’s happening.
Sumner finally got the call. He’s going pro. Or at least to the developmental league, which would put him right at the precipice. This is it.
Pride bursts in my rib cage like a beer left in the freezer too long. Hot pressure pushes in behind my eyes, and I cover my mouth, locking gazes with him across the celebration in the kitchen. I’m so happy for him, I don’t think I could speak if I wanted to, so I just nod. I nod and let the tears roll down my cheeks and soak into the sleeves of my Bandits sweatshirt . . .
But the smile on his face is beginning to wane.
A trench forms between his eyes, the muscles working in his throat.
“AHL. The development team . . . ,” he says hollowly. “In Anaheim?”
One word. That’s all it takes to change the atmosphere in the kitchen.
Every head turns in my direction, but I’m only vaguely aware of the sudden scrutiny, because there’s an engine humming in my ears, my stomach tying up into knots. My legs feel like jelly, I couldn’t stand on them if I tried, and all I can do is sit here.
Anaheim. Sumner was picked up by Anaheim.
Why did I assume it would be on the East Coast?
That was shortsighted of me. Having him play near where we already live would have been too convenient, and there is nothing convenient about a career in professional sports. He’ll be living across the country. On the road constantly. I guess this is it.
I guess this is it.
“Thank you,” Sumner says, hanging up the phone. His hand falls to his side, and he’s not looking at anyone but me. “Britta, can I talk to you outside?”
“I’m happy for you,” I say, letting him hear my pride in every note of those four words, because that is genuine. I am so proud of him. “I really am. You know that, right?”
“Please. Outside.”
I shake my head.
He tosses his phone on the counter, takes three big steps, and plucks me up out of the seat, tossing me up into his arms so I’m cradled against his chest.
“Sumner,” calls his father. “You were taught better than that. You’re not supposed to use your size against a woman, son.”
“This is an exception,” Sumner shouts back.
And he kicks open the back door, shutting it in the same loud manner.
As soon as we’re in the middle of his backyard, a postage stamp with patchy grass in various places, he sets me down, but he doesn’t let me go. He stoops down until we’re eye level, his big hands settling on my shoulders. “Don’t you dare check out on me, Britta. On us.”
I’m trapped in a weird place, stuck between elation and dread. “Why can’t you just let me be happy for you?”
“Because I know what you really mean when you say you’re happy for me. You’re telling me goodbye.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” I burst out, highly aware of the faces in the window observing the scene between me and Sumner. With an effort, I calm myself back down and speak to him in a quiet, reasonable tone. “We accomplished what we set out to do. You needed to stay with the Bandits long enough to be signed—and it happened. We did it. You did it. It’s your dream.”
“Yeah? But along the way, Britta, the dream started to include you. All right?” He impresses that on me with an intense look. One that leaves no room for doubt that he means what he’s saying. “Maybe my dream has included you since the beginning, but the more time that passed, it started to feel like an actual possibility. You and me, Britta.”