GRADY: And PS: I got you.
As soon as I hit send, my phone starts blowing up with messages from other teammates… now former teammates… and a welcome message from the Portland Riptide Captain, Abbott Barlowe. I spend the rest of the night fielding those and walking around my soon-to-be former home. I go through the closet, pulling the essentials I’ll bring with me immediately, and email the realtor I bought the place from so I can list it. And by the time I fall asleep, I’ve almost forgotten that I messaged Landon at all.
Almost.
Chapter 2
Landon
I stare at her with a pleading look. It’s probably pathetic, but I don’t know what else to say or do. She won’t do anything but cry. So the only noise, other than her sobs, is the sportscast on the television behind me as I stand in front of the couch she’s crumpled into.
“We knew something big was coming for the Quake. They wouldn’t be able to balance the books with all those hefty contracts. But trading Grady Garrison and Landon Casco? That was a shake-up even Quake super fans didn’t see coming. Garrison is arguably the hottest goalie in the league right now, but his contract ends later this year, and there’s no way they’ll be able to afford him with the Westwood and Tate Garrison’s contracts. He’s not that big of a surprise, but Casco? Kid just beat cancer, he’s bounced back to become their best defenseman, and he’s the coach’s nephew. This was a shock.”
I feel a knot start to form in between my shoulder blades. My phone buzzes on the coffee table for the hundredth time since my agent called. “Angie. Please.”
She takes a ragged breath and looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. “I have a career. A life here. I was just getting back to normal.”
I run a hand through my hair, which I haven’t cut in a year. It’s shaggy, to say the least, and constantly in my eyes. But two years ago, I didn’t have hair, thanks to chemotherapy, so I enjoy the nuisance now. “Angela. Seriously. It sucks. I get it. But I can’t change it, and all the crying in the world won’t either.”
She sniffs and wipes at the mascara streaking her cheeks. “Your uncle is an asshole for doing this to us. I knew he never liked me!”
“Angie, he didn’t do this to us. It’s not personal, it’s hockey.” I want to get snarky with her because my patience is wearing out, and also because attacking my uncle and making this about her is ridiculous. But Angela doesn’t know that the Quake made me a really decent offer, trying hard to lock me down before my contract officially expires at the end of this season. It was less than five hundred grand off what I wanted. I said no, knowing it meant they would look to trade me. I did this. Not my uncle.
“When do they expect us to go?” She’s never been through a trade, and Angela doesn’t really pay attention when it happens to other players.
“I don’t know yet, but I’m guessing soon. Training camp has technically started, and we’ll have pre-season games starting next week,” I explain.
“Next week?” Her voice is high and as sharp as a chef’s kitchen knife. “What the fuck, Landon! I have a life here!”
She sounds angry and looks heartbroken. One of us has to attempt to be calm. Inside, though, I’m reeling because I was just traded by the only team I’ve known. Yeah, I may have pushed them in this direction, but they took the hint, and well, fuck, I can’t help but wonder if I fucked myself. I’m definitely panicking a little, internally. But I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Do you want to stay here? You don’t have to move right away. Lots of wives stay if the kids are in school, usually if the player is traded mid-season, but like, you can do it. If you want. If you have work stuff that can’t travel with you.”
Angela runs her own freelance graphic design company, and she works from home, so… I’m not buying her big concern is work. There’s no reason why she can’t work with the same clients from a different state. Still, if she doesn’t want to rush out of L.A., it’s not the end of the world. Maybe it will even help us.
“What, so now you don’t care if I go with you?”
“Whoa. I didn’t say that,” I reply, but she’s already off the couch, storming past me. I turn, following her with my eyes. “Angie, let’s talk this out!”
“All we fucking do is talk!” she snaps, turning in the doorway to our bedroom. “We talk about why I don’t want kids, we talk about how to communicate better, we talk about why we don’t have sex anymore. Talking isn’t fixing anything. So let’s just shut up and move. Maybe that will fix it.”
She steps into the bedroom and slams the door. I ball my fists up at my sides and fight the urge to scream at the ceiling. How is this where we are right now? Why is this where we are right now? What are we even holding onto at this point?
My phone buzzes again. I ignore it and reach for the remote instead because the fucking sportscaster won’t shut up.
“We know the Riptide owners, native Mainers, like collecting Garrisons like they’re sports cars, but taking Landon too is risky. He was an average player, hardly remarkable before he unfortunately got sick. Was his return season an anomaly or will it last?”
“Fuck you,” I hiss at the announcer.
“Let’s ask our resident Garrison expert and hockey color commentator, Devin Garrison, his thoughts on this blockbuster trade.”
I wait, only because I like Devin Garrison. He was a hell of a player, and he’s transitioned into a fair, unbiased sportscaster. But maybe I should turn it off in case he agrees with them. Devin’s face fills my sixty-five-inch television. “Well, Grady, he’s hell of a get and I’m not just being biased because he’s my nephew. He’s in his prime, and he’s a great value for the money. I think they may have created a problem by trading both goalies for him and picking up Tyson Michaels, who was a free agent this summer. Both are used to being the starter. If Larue thinks one of them will ride the bench without balking, he’s probably in for a rude awakening. As far as Casco, the kid was young and finding his feet before he got sick. His trajectory since he got better may look like a miracle, but it’s exactly where he would have been without the blip. He’s a Casco. I played against his dad, who won a Cup after what should have been a career-ending injury. For me, he’s going to bring the Riptide the skill and grit they need to finally be solid Cup contenders. And I’m not just being hopeful because my kid is on the team.”
The announcers chuckle, and I feel slightly better. Slightly. I put the remote back on the coffee table, and my phone screen lights up again. In the long list of messages, one name catches my attention. Grady.
“Angie, it’s Maine, not freaking Siberia,” I call out in one last attempt to… I don’t know what? Magically heal a rift that started long before I was traded. “We go every summer! We even have a place to land when we get there. We can stay at the Braddock Cottage.”
It’s my mom’s family cottage, and it’s empty most of the fall and winter. My aunt Winnie and uncle Holden live next door, so she’ll already know the neighbors. I won’t be leaving her alone in a foreign city when I’m off on road trips.
“We go every summer because your family insists on it,” she calls back through the closed door. “And it’s muggy there. My hair will be in a constant state of frizz. I’ll have to get twice as many keratin treatments.”
