Chapter 1- Tate
I’m making my way to my locker cubby, towel hung around my hips, when the Dallas Stars head coach, Tom, tells me to meet him in the GM’s office. The other players make eye contact with me—probably not a good sign to be called in like this after practice. I mentally go over the practice. I’ve been exactly where I need to be on defense, and my footwork improved a lot with the extra training I've been doing. I can't be up for a trade. I’m the first on the ice every day and the last off. The window for trades is open though, so no one is safe, even if I've been with this team for nine years.
After I quickly make myself as presentable as one can look in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, I find Coach Tom sitting in the chair in the GM’s office overlooking the rink. He’s got his glasses on and is looking at something in his hands with a small frown. When Beckett Bloomfield, the GM, lifts his head and assesses me with those ice blue eyes, my stomach plummets. He keeps his face carefully blank and smooths a hand down his sapphire tie.
“Come on in, Tate.” Beckett calls. Coach has a neutral expression on his face. Stepping into the office, I fight off a shiver, but my skin still pebbles in chills. I remained standing but shut the door behind me. If I’m here for the reason I think, I want to be able to make a swift exit. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It does nothing to calm my racing heart.
“It’s ok, just lay it out for me.”
“You’ve been traded to the Bruisers. You’re to report there in forty-eight hours for morning skate.” Beckett explains. “You’ve been a great asset to this team. Someone will be reaching out about travel and living accommodations.” The words hit like a puck to the ribs—fast, cold, and unavoidable. I keep my face neutral because that’s what professionals do, but inside every muscle goes tight. I try to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. New York.
I clear my throat. If I speak too soon, my voice is going to give me away. The room is silent save for the distant sound of sticks hitting pucks below. Coach lets out a sigh. “New York wanted the trade to go through immediately. I’m sorry you’ll have to move Matty across the country so close to Christmas.”
“It’s okay, It’s a part of the job.” I shrug even though I have to fist my hands to stop them from shaking. This isn’t just taking us from our home;it’s ripping me away from my support system. I rub a hand over my jaw.
“Yeah, well. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call me,” Coach offers.
I’m not looking to get all mushy, so I excuse myself and walk out of the arena without all the goodbyes.
There's nothing worse than getting traded from the team after a winning season like we had. I don’t want the pity, and I have way too much planning to do now. I’m already stalking across the parking lot, the warm Texas air soothed by a breeze, when I hear a voice call out behind me.
“Hey man, wait up!” I turn to see the team captain, Garrett, jogging through the parking lot. “Jesus you’re fast.”
“What’s up?”
“I heard about the trade. I’m sorry, you’re a hell of a player,” He drags the tip of his shoe against the pavement, hands tucked in his pockets. He hesitantly searches my face. “The team’s going out for a drink, can I buy you one?”
“Nah, I gotta get home. Too much packing, not to mention breaking the news to my kid.” “It’s been a pleasure playing with you. I can’t wait to kick your ass when we play each other next month.” He grins good naturedly, then sobers. “Good luck up there.”
“Thanks, you too, man,” I give him a friendly nod and finally duck into the peace and quiet of my truck.
The sun is starting to set as I take the long drive up to the ranch. Momma’s got all the kids sitting at a long picnic table eating dinner. Probably something she had them all help make, knowing her.
When I slam my truck door shut, I hear the kids all screaming as they run around and climb up the big oak tree. It’s one of those old ones where some of the branches almost touch the grass.
They all come barrelling to me when I hop over the long wooden fence that separates the driveway from the expansive front yard. I make sure to mind the Christmas lights wound around it as I do.
“Hey kiddos!” I say and crouch down with my arms out. My older brother's four kids come barrelling into me, knocking me back onto my butt.
He’s got two girls and two boys between the ages of four and nine and one on the way. My mom has always insisted on keeping all the kids while we work. After working as a teacher for twenty years, she retired. She says her calling was to be a grandma. After a round ofroughhousing and tickling, the boys run off to play and I dust my jeans.
“Where’s Matty?” I say and sign with my hands.
Tilly is skipping next to me, her blonde pigtails bouncing behind her, half fallen out and uneven.
“He’s inside. Grammy says he had a bad day, and we should let him have space. I don’t know why, when I have a bad day, I always need a lot of snuggles.” She scrunches her freckled covered nose in thought as she signs and speaks. “Maybe Matty would like to snuggle my unicorn stuffie.”
“Maybe. Hey, why don’t you go show those boys how to do a real flip on that trampoline.” I sign back and gesture to my nephews with my chin.
“Okay, Uncle Tate.” She grins and takes off. Tilly has complete hearing loss in one ear and only moderate in the other. She doesn’t have that accent most associated with deafness. You wouldn’t really notice if you didn’t know her.
I still sign when speaking with her, even if she doesn’t necessarily need it with her implant. It’s good practice.
My momma sits on the wooden porch swing in the shade with a glass of sweet tea in her hand and one on the table for me. There’s a Christmas tree on the porch that’s just barely shining behind her.
“Hey you.” She sees right through me and pats the spot next to her. “Seems like Matty isn’t the only one who had a bad day.” “Speaking of, what happened?” I take a big gulp of my drink before setting it back on the table.
“He won’t say. I think he’s waiting for you.” She scans my face and hers softens. Her greying hair blows away from her face from a slight breeze. “I’m guessing you got the call?”
