Chapter eight
Kieran
The numbers were excellent.
I knew this because Thompson, the GM, said it twice, once while sliding a printout across the table, and again while pouring coffee before any of us asked. Term, AAV, incentives. Clean columns. The offer was better than projected, which meant someone upstairs had decided I was worth overpaying to keep quiet and compliant.
"This reflects the organization's commitment," Thompson said. "Not only to your present game, but to your role here long-term."
Long-term.
I picked up the printout. Read it the way my father taught me, slowly, with no visible reaction.
The number landed comfortably. It was money that would solve problems I didn't have and reinforce a future I was planning to leave.
"This is strong," I said. "I appreciate the thought that went into it."
Thompson leaned back. Satisfied.
"I'd like some time before I commit."
He blinked, barely perceptible, and then recalibrated. "Of course. Due diligence."
"Yes."
"Your agent mentioned wanting to see how the season develops. We respect that."
He didn't respect it. He was accommodating it. That was different.
We stood. Handshakes. Firm grip, correct duration.
In the hallway, the glass walls caught my reflection. Charcoal quarter-zip. Good posture. A man reviewing a life-changing financial offer with the composure of someone ordering lunch.
My father called as I climbed into my car.
"Kieran."
"Dad."
"Heard the numbers came in."
I leaned back against the headrest. "They did. Strong offer."
"How strong?"
I gave him the terms. I didn't quote the precise dollar figure. He had ways to find that out through his own channels within the hour.
"That's significant. And your read on the room?"
"Confident. Accommodating my timeline. They want it done before the trade deadline."
"Smart." A pause calibrated to sound thoughtful. "What did you tell them?"
"That I'd take some time."
"Time's reasonable," he said. "You want to see how the season shapes up. Make sure the fit is right."
He'd supplied my reasoning for me. Handed it to me pre-assembled. It was how he'd handed me skating drills at six and forechecking systems at twelve.
