“I understand.”
“I hope you do. Because what we’re offering isn’t just about money or performance consulting. It’s about taking control of your career instead of letting other people make decisions about your future.”
We shake hands at the restaurant entrance, and I watch him disappear around a corner.
Someone finally seems to understand what I’m going through. Someone’s offering real solutions instead of empty encouragement and fucking breathing exercises. Someone’s treating me like a valuable asset instead of a problem to be managed.
My fists ball at my sides when I pass the restaurant. A quick look through the front window confirms that Zane, the coaches, and GM are still finishing their dinner.
If they want to exclude me from conversations about my career, maybe it’s time I found people who actually value what I bring to the table.
I drive home with thoughts bouncing around my mind like pinballs. For the first time in months, I feel like someone’s actually on my side, even if that someone is a complete stranger who knows more about my personal life than he should. I shrug all of that off, though, because I need help and he’s offering it. How bad could it be? I can always walk away if it’s not for me.
And right now, I need to take control of my own future and stop wasting my energy on things that were never going to be mine, namely Zane Christensen.
TWENTY-SEVEN
zane
I haven’t sleptsince the night I saw Tate at that restaurant. Every time I close my eyes, his accusatory look pops into my mind. The hurt and betrayal in his gaze is something I can’t forget. And I sure as hell can’t forget him with that man, leaning in to listen to whatever poison was being whispered in his ear.
I did nothing. I sat at that table like a fucking coward while criminals recruited the only man who’s mattered to me in years.
My phone’s been buzzing all morning with texts from Morrison that I continue to ignore. He wants updates on “the situation,” wants to know if syndicate contact has been made.
As if I’m going to tell him that I watched it happen only a few feet away.
My phone buzzes and I let out a groan, ready to send the call to voicemail when I see Coach Enver’s name flash across the screen. I stab at the screen to accept the call.
“Zane, we’ve made a decision about Barnes. We’re giving him another start this Thursday against Calgary.”
I sit up straighter in my chair. “Thursday?”
“You’ve been working with him closely. You convinced us that he was ready for another shot.”
I swallow past the growing lump in my throat. “His technique’s solid and his confidence seems to be improving.” Christ, these lies are going to bury me. “I think he can handle it.”
“Good. That’s what we hoped you’d say. The work you’ve been doing with him is paying off.”
After Enver hangs up, I stare at my phone. It should be good news. Tate getting his starting position back might mean he doesn’t need whatever Petrov’s offering. Maybe he’ll decide to walk away from that business card and the empty promises that come with it.
Or it might mean the syndicate now has a starting goalie in their pocket instead of just a desperate backup.
Practice that afternoon is torture. Tate’s movements are sharp, focused. Every save is clean, every movement purposeful. It’s like he was injected with a dose of confidence after getting his position back. This is the player who should be starting every game, the talent that got buried under performance anxiety and pressure.
He’s good. Really fucking good. And watching him play like this makes everything worse, because I know what’s coming.
And I’m going to help them do it.
“You looked really good out there,” I say as he comes off the ice. “Nice work.”
“Thanks.” He pulls off his helmet, his hair slick with sweat. “I’m starting against Calgary.”
“I know. Enver mentioned it.”
He furrows his brows. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say? After everything I’ve been through?”
I look at him. Hope flickers in his hazel eyes, along with the excitement about getting another chance and about proving he belongs. But underneath that, anger swirls, and I know it’s because I’m not reacting the way he wants me to, the way someone who cares about him should react.
