CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
cole
The second I step outside,my balls shrivel to the size of grapes.Fuck. The frigid temperatures of Boston in late January are enough to make me consider prematurely retiring to Florida. The wind slices through my jacket like it’s nothing, and snowflakes slap against my face with zero remorse. Thankfully, I parked near the exit, so in a matter of seconds, I’m sliding into the relative paradise of my heated car.
My shoulder throbs, a reminder of a second-period scrap on the ice, and my jaw’s still tender from the elbow I took during a play. All I want to do is go home and take a bath with one of the eucalyptus bath bomb thingies Logan got me for Christmas, but I promised my teammates I’d head to O’Leary’s for a bit. It’s only nine, making it far too early to pull the “I’m going to bed” card. Even though I’d really like to. We have an away game tomorrow, and I always get less than stellar sleep in any bed that’s not mine. Unless it’s Maya’s couch.
I’m just about to shift into reverse when a call from my agent comes through the speaker system.
“Great game tonight,” he says when I answer, his deep voice rumbling through the interior of my call. “Very impressive, and I’m not the only one who thought so. Just got a call from Jerry Bronson.”
I smile at the display on my dashboard. Mark Rodriguez is the best in the business, and every conversation we have is efficient and to the point. It’s why our calls never begin with any of the typical niceties likehello, how are you?orhow’s your shoulder after the blow you took earlier?
“Thanks,” I say as I crank the heat, “but I have no idea who that is.”
He clucks his tongue, chastising me. “The Devils’ new assistant coach. He wanted to know if your no-trade clause excludes them.”
My hands drop from the steering wheel as my heart stutters in my chest. “Oh.”
“They want you. Badly,” he continues as if he hasn’t just knocked me off kilter.
“Rumors about Rogers are true, then, I’m assuming?” I force out. “He’s retiring this season?”
“Off the record, yes. If he keeps playing like he has been, he’ll end up on long-term injury reserve,” he confirms. “It’d be a post-trade deadline deal, since they want Rogers to finish out the full season.”
It’s a common misconception that trades can’t occur after the stupidly named “trade deadline.” Teams can make trades whenever they want, but if a player is acquired after the deadline, they’re not eligible to play for their new team in the playoffs.
“I’d have a chance at the Cup with the Bobcats.” An opportunity to clinch the title as captain.
“You’d also get your shot to play for the Devils,” Mark replies evenly, like he hasn’t just dangled the culmination of my entire career in front of me. “That’s been our goal from the beginning. Unless that’s changed?”
“No,” I blurt out. “Sorry, I’m just stunned, is all. This is great. Really great.”
Then why is the thought of leaving Boston and the Bobcats making me nauseous?
“Good. I’ll keep you posted.”
Mark ends the call before I get the chance to say goodbye.
In the quiet of my car, I rest my head against the smooth leather of the headrest and take a deep breath to calm my rapidly beating heart. I’m not sure whether it’s from excitement or… dismay? I’ve been working toward this since I was a kid. It’s what Nathan and I always wanted. But now that it may be a reality, it feels too soon. Like I haven’t done my due diligence as captain of the Bobcats.
But a person doesn’t simply give up their dream over a case of cold feet.
I take a few more deep breaths to center myself before making my way to O’Leary’s. By the time I push open the creaky wooden door, all thoughts of the Devils are pushed aside. It’s time to celebrate this win with my team.
It’s not hard to spot the guys. Every one of them is over six feet, with the honed muscle of a lumberjack. With a beer in hand, I make my way over and slide into the open seat next to Elliott. He’s another reason I agreed to come out. Getting her brother’s approval may not make or break things with Maya, but it sure as hell won’t hurt.
“Berrett!” Logan yells, louder than necessary. The excitement in his expression is overkill, seeing as how we’ve only been apart for forty minutes. “You made it.”
“I’m a man of my word.” Turning to Maya’s brother, I give him a friendly smile. He’s calm and collected in a way that balances out Logan’s crazy and cockamamie ways. “Hey, Elliott. How’s it going?”
He tips his beer toward me and smiles. “Great game out there.”
I nod in thanks. “Too bad the person you came to watch spent most of the game in the penalty box.”
Logan gasps dramatically. “Rude. I only spent twenty minutes of the game there.”
Cameron and I exchange a knowing look. He takes a sip of his beer, then uses it to point at our left-winger. “That’s an entire period, bud.”
