I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Nothing. The fucker didn’t leave a voicemail.”
He reached out and slid the phone from my grip, his eyes tracking quickly over the screen, then passed it back to me. “You should call him.”
I knew I should, but I really didn’t want to. I also knew if I didn’t, I wouldn’t get any sleep. I’d stay up all night imagining a thousand different versions of a conversation that would send me packing.
He set his book on the nightstand and patted the mattress. “Come here. We’ll do it together.”
“Thank you,” I breathed out, climbing in next to him.
Carl picked up on the second ring. “Taylor, thank god. I was worried you were dead in a ditch somewhere, which would be really fucking tragic because I’ve got great news.”
Carl and I had worked together for a long time. For him, “good news” meant the money was still flowing. Some other team wanted me. I still had a career, though with every new trade it felt less and less like one.
I blew out a breath, my eyes locked on Sebastian. I felt like I was going to be sick. “Where am I off to now?”
His hand found my knee, and I watched as his pulse fluttered rapidly in his neck, the only outward sign that he was as nervous as I was.
Carl laughed, loud and boisterous. “Oh, no. Nothing like that, kid. Your team sent over a new contract after the game tonight. They’re offering you a raise and three more years.”
I blinked, not entirely sure I’d heard him correctly. “Can you repeat that?”
Sebastian squeezed my knee and let out the breath he’d been holding.
“They want to lock you up before the freeze,” Carl explained. “Hendricks went to the front office himself to ask for it to be put in motion.”
I was staying in Portland. I didn’t have to leave. I could finish my career with the Marauders. I didn't know how long I'd been sitting there processing this news, but it was long enough that I felt Sebastian shift beside me, dipping his head to catch my eye.
He was blurry, and my eyes were burning. I blinked and swiped at them with the back of my wrist, then sniffled.
“You still there?” Carl asked after a few more seconds had passed
“Yeah, I’m here. I just …” I blew out a breath. “Three years? You’re sure?”
“I’ve looked it over myself, and it’s a good deal. Best one you’ve ever got, frankly. I think you’re going to be real happy with the numbers. I’ll send all the paperwork over tonight, and we can go over it in the morning.”
“Sounds good,” I managed to scrape out. “Thanks, Carl.”
“Get some sleep,” he said before the line went dead.
I sat there with the phone in my hand feeling … not numb, exactly, but something close to it. My fingers tingled like they did when I woke up in the middle of the night, having slept on my arm for too long, and my blood felt fizzy in my body. I recognized it as an adrenaline crash.
Until I’d joined the Marauders, I’d spent so long being the guy teams kept around because I was useful enough not to cutbut replaceable enough not to fight for. The guy who didn’t get too attached to his teammates or the city because there was always another one on the horizon. I hadn’t known how to be anything else.
And even though I’d been with the team for three years, I never quite let myself believe that I’d get to stick around. That I could potentially end my career here.
Sebastian gently pried the phone from my hand and set it on the nightstand.
I turned to him and just fell apart. Big, ugly sobs that came from somewhere deep inside of me. His arms came around me, and he pulled me into his chest, one hand cupping the back of my head. I pressed my face into his neck and let the tears flow.
I cried for the twenty-one-year-old kid who’d just lost his best friend and didn’t understand why. The one who felt cut adrift in the world, living in a city he’d never even visited before, where he basically knew no one and always felt like an outsider.
For the twenty-five-year-old who found himself unexpectedly traded to Vancouver. Then Chicago. Then Atlanta. And finally, Maine.
For the thirty-year-old who bought a house that was way too big for one person, wanting desperately to put down roots. To have a home. A family someday. Someone to call his. Someone who called me theirs back.
Sebastian’s hand moved slowly up and down my back, his chin resting on the top of my head, his body steady and solid beneath me, completely unbothered by the fact that I was falling to pieces in his arms.
Eventually, my tears turned to sniffles, which turned into exhaustion. I rolled away, onto my back, scrubbing both hands over my face and staring up at the ceiling.
