“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he growls, glaring at our teammate Max.
Max is one of the most laid-back guys I know, so for Austin to be pissed at him is major. I tighten my grip on my towel. “What’s going on?”
Max peels off his jersey, glancing at me before looking back at Austin.
But Austin doesn’t give him the opportunity to explain before barking, “Are you gonna tell him, or should I?”
“Neither of us should.” Max’s gaze darts around the locker room, but no one else is paying attention to Austin’s outburst. “It’s not supposed to be public knowledge yet, man. I just got the call this morning.”
My stomach sinks.
“Well, unlike you, I don’t keep shit from my team.” Austin turns to me with pure rage. “Max got fucking traded.”
“To who?” I roar, my words sharp.
Fuck, this isn’t the news we wanted.
Blake Bradley, the team’s owner, has been hand selecting the players he thinks are the best assets to the team since he took over recently. For him to trade Max is not only unsettling, but poses the question, who the hell are we going to get in his place?
“The goddamn Raptors,” Austin answers. “I’m going to talk to Coach.”
“Coach won’t be able to do anything,” Max argues. “It’s a done deal. Bradley called mehimselfthis morning to break the news. I have a meeting in“—he glances at his watch—“ten minutes to meet with the Raptors coach.”
“You didn’t have an NTC in your contract?” I ask. Maybe there’s some way to get him out of this.
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Didn’t see the point. I don’t have a wife or a family—no roots here in Bridge Point. Look, I know this is out of nowhere, but I’m good with it.”
“I’m still going to talk to Declan,” Austin mutters as he rakes his fingers through his messy hair and turns in the direction of Coach’s office.
His footsteps are loud, and the office door hits against the wall as he throws it open, then slams it shut behind him.
I shake my head, and the rest of the locker room goes about their business like our teammate didn’t just drop a bomb on us.
Max opens his locker, then pulls his black undershirt off before tossing it into a mesh laundry bag. He looks relaxed—unfazed—as he undresses down to his briefs.
“So that’s it then?” I ask quietly, not wanting to draw anymore attention after Austin’s outburst. “You’re just…traded?”
“I guess so.” He slides his jeans on. “I’m not sure what the conditions are. I’ll know more after the meeting.”
“They can’t just do this without giving everyone a heads-up. You’re valuable to the Bears, you’re?—”
“Replaceable.” He laughs, but it’s cold and mechanical. “Everyone is replaceable for the right price, Fox. You know that.”
I drag my hand down my face, processing everything. Max finishes dressing in silence, then uses a small mirror in his locker to finger comb his hair, trying to tame it as best as possible before he gives up and slides his ball cap on instead.
“I can’t see you as a Raptor,” I goad. I’ve finally started pulling on my own clothes, tossing my wet towel onto the bench beside us.
“Denver’s cold as hell, but I like it there. I’ve been a few times.” He shrugs, his voice soft but gruff. “Could be worse, I just didn’t think I’d be traded mid-season.”
“None of us did. This is going to send a shockwave through the team, you know.”
Max shuts his locker, slinging a duffle bag over his shoulder at the same time Austin reappears.
“Declan was as useless as a wet noodle,” he grumbles, sinking onto the bench. “Said Bradley already filed the paperwork and it’s a done deal. His hands are tied.”
Max nods slowly, like that’s old news. “Yeah, I figured.” He claps Austin on the shoulder. “I’ll let you guys know how this meeting goes.”
“This is bullshit,” Austin says once Max is out of earshot, his back toward us as he exits the locker room. “If this was his last game with us, I’ll be callingBlakemyself to give him a piece of my mind.”
