Talk Hockey to Me (Bears Hockey #3) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,85
for players (and men in general) to be able to acknowledge their feelings, talk about them, and work through them. I want to acknowledge every hockey player who’s been brave enough to talk about their personal experiences. Because hockey is such a popular and influential game, there’s huge potential for conversations about men’s mental health and reaching a wider audience.
I have many people to thank for helping me get this book written and out in the world. As always, to my agent Emily Sylvan Kim—thanks for encouraging me. Thank you also to the team at Social Butterfly PR, you are awesome at making sure the world knows about my books! Thank you to Stacey Price, who keeps me afloat doing so many things! Thank you to reviewers and bloggers who read my books and also help get the word out—I appreciate you so much! And special, HUGE thanks to editor Kristi Yanta. This is the first project we’ve worked on together. I am in awe of your ability to dig deep into the story and characters and pull out all the things I wanted to say but didn’t. This book is so much better because of you. Thanks to my author friends for letting me vent and procrastinate and for motivating me, and most of all thank you from the bottom of my heart to all my readers. I am so grateful to every one of you!
I’ve given myself the weekend. I cleaned and organized my bedroom and the kitchen cupboards. I threw out a bunch of crap I don’t need anymore. Now it’s Sunday afternoon and I’m taking Lola for a walk in the park.
Lola is my neighbor Kent’s Jack Russell terrier. While I was out of work, I started walking Lola pretty much every day. Kent works long hours, and Jack Russells need lots of exercise. He was already paying someone to walk her and thought it might as well be me, since I needed the money and had the time, and I love him for that. I also love Lola. I love dogs in general. I also volunteer at an animal shelter once a week.
A couple of neighbors saw me walking Lola and asked me to walk their dogs too, which I was happy to do and it makes me a few extra dollars.
There’s a park at the end of my street and I head that way. It’s a nice fall day—in fact it’s gorgeous. The sky is a brilliant blue, the trees are turning, and the sun is illuminating the leaves into glowing gold, fiery red, and rust brown. A few leaves layer the path in the park and it’s so pretty.
Lola and I are strolling along the path when out of nowhere a dog appears, bounding up to us and jumping Lola.
I let out a scream. “Lola!” I pull on the leash and dash toward them to rescue her from being demolished by the other dog. Okay, okay, it’s a smallish dog, just a pup, but still, he’s aggressive. And Lola’s not happy either, growling and snarling. Oh my God, it’s a dog fight! What do I do?
I hear a man yelling, “Otis! Come back! Jesus, Otis, stop.”
Lola is snapping and barking, but the other dog doesn’t get the message, still jumping her and pawing at her. His tail is wagging wildly, although it’s not much of a tail, just a furry little quivery stub. His tongue lolls out of his jowly mouth. Lola is freaked out, and so am I.
But I have to save her.
I try to pick her up, prepared to feel the other dog’s teeth sink into my arm. She’s squirming and jumping so much I can’t get hold of her and I’m grabbing air and stumbling around, and then I fall on my ass.
Then Lola jumps the other dog, trying to pin him. Now I’m worried she’s going to kill him.
The yelling man sprints up and grabs the leash dragging behind the dog. “Shit, shit, shit,” he growls. He seizes the dog’s collar and pulls him away from Lola. He glares at Lola. “What the hell?”
“What the hell is right!” Anger flares inside me. “What is your dog doing off the leash?” I demand. I grab Lola’s leash and tug her toward me, pulling her into my lap where I’m sitting on the grass.
“He’s on a leash! He yanked it out of my hands when he saw your dog.”