Sure. Fine. Whatever, universe! If the hockey is good, I’ll be happy enough in Bellerive.
I just wish I was sure the level of play will ever get where I need it to be with these people in charge. Especially if the ones making those decisions are bickering in the background. Fucking ridiculous. I barely hold back an eye roll. Amateur hour here.
“Must be nice to live such a simple existence,” he says, an easy grin back on his face now that he thinks we’re on the same side—whatever side that is.
“I suppose you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be the best in the world at your profession. Must be nice to be so ignorant.” Then I climb into the car and shut the door, not even bothering to spare him a glance as we zoom away.
It’s just like me, in a fit of annoyance, to burn a bridge I might need to walk across.
But if he’s right and upper management is already fighting over the direction of the team, who the fuck knows which one of them I’d rather have in my corner? My gut tells me it’s not Dalton Worthington, and I’ve learned that instinct is rarely wrong.
Chapter Seven
Sawyer
“Have you gotten him out around the island yet?” Alex asks, rocking back in the highbacked leather chair behind his expansive wooden desk.
“That’swhat you called me here for?” I glance between him and my father. “You said it was important.” I’d been neck-deep in planning my test session with Logan when I was literally summoned to the palace and accompanied by a royal bodyguard.
“Our star player’s happinessisimportant,” my father says with a scoff. “The most important thing, actually.”
Just like my father to not even considermytime ormyhappiness. The only reason breaking up with Dalton had been acceptable to him was that I then took this job. My mother is probably still pissed that I let such a big political fish off the hook. She loves lording her advantages over other people on the island, and having a daughter married to a substantial figure would have been a coup, especially since Dalton wants tobecome first chair on the council at some point. A tiny part of me might care at least a little about my mother’s opinion, if we were still on speaking terms. It annoys me that she trained me so well from childhood to care what she’ll think, even when I’m trying so hardnotto care.
“He got here three days ago, and Tamiko said Logan’s not a party guy,” I say.
“Go see the sights,” Alex says, gesturing around the room and then toward the window. “Show him how entertaining Bellerive can be. The ocean, the mountains, take him to Cal’s campground. He seems like the outdoors type.”
“He’s in training mode. I get the sense he’s not going to want to just hang out with me for fun.”
“You’re a pretty girl, Sawyer. And single,” my father says, raising his eyebrows. “Lots of ways to entertain a man.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say, turning from him to Alex to make sure they both didn’t have this expectation. “I feel ill right now. For real.”
Alex gives my father an exasperated look that’s at least a little reassuring. “It’s a hectic playing schedule, and I don’t want him to get to the end of the season and still not feel connected to the island. He was already asking for a trade. There are a few people involved in the organization who believe a trade would benefit the team. Your father and I aren’t on that side of the debate.Wewant himhere.”
“Okay,” I say. Whether Logan Bishop stays on the team and on the island doesn’t exactly matter to me. The only thing I care about is proving to Logan that I’m capable of making him better. That’s what I want out of this deal. To know I made him better. If that leads him elsewhere, that’s not my problem. “I know I originally agreed to fulfill multiple roles, but I also didn’t know you’dliedto him.”
“We didn’t lie,” my father says quickly, visibly bristling.
“You told him I was a trainer.”
“Physiotherapist, trainer—no difference.”
“To him, there’s a big difference.”
“Are you able to train him?” Alex asks, cutting in.
“According to him?” I ask. “No.”
“He fired you?” My father has raised his voice, and his brow is furrowed.
“Sort of,” I say. “He’s agreed to keep me on a trial basis while he looks for someone else. Or, I guesshe’snot looking, but he has one of his ‘people’ searching for someone else.” That part of our verbal agreement rubbed me the wrong way. He was fine for my father and Alex to find him someone, probably with little guidance. If I’m not good enough, maybe he should be doing his own looking. He obviously has a very specific idea of what’s acceptable to him.
“A trial basis?” My father scoffs. “What horseshit. He’s not going to find anyone better than you on the island.”
At least I’m pretty confidentthatpart is true. Though, I’m still mystified how my father can make the claims he does when he’s never stepped foot in my physiotherapist space.
“He’s probably got his staff wooing people off island,” Alex says with a grimace. “Which is a problem with our visa and immigration laws. Getting someone approvednowwould be difficult.”
