“For the record, I’ve never technically asked for your autograph,” I correct him. “You volunteered, and then I asked how much money I could make if I sold it.”
Cole leans forward and claims my lips in a kiss that leaves me wiggling in his hold. “And look how far we’ve come.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
cole
I’ve never minded doinginterviews, which my publicist is forever grateful for, and now that I’m captain, the media requests have been nonstop. Especially as the regular season wraps up. Today’s interview is for a podcast calledCoffee with Champions. It’s consistently ranked as one of the top comedy sports podcasts, and rumor is, the host, Ella Gold, is a force to be reckoned with.
This morning, one conference room at Airwave Arena has been converted into a recording studio, with wires running every which way. The giant oak table in the center is barely discernible under the heaps of equipment. And standing next to one of the microphones is a petite brunette wearing a Formula 1 shirt and a wide smile that showcases a dimple on her right cheek.
“Hey,” I say, sticking out my hand. “Ella, right?”
She returns the gesture, her grip surprisingly firm. “Hi. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” I stuff my hands into my pockets. “Sorry I’m a bit late. I landed about an hour ago.”
Ella waves off my apology. “I’m just happy we could make this happen. I can only imagine how packed your schedule must be.”
I swear I spend more time sleeping on planes and in hotel rooms than in my own bed during the season. But for the next week, the team will be in Boston. It’s a fucking relief, though it’s made me realize how fucking difficult it’ll be to find time with Maya if Boston is no longer my home base.
Before I can spiral further, I shake the thought out of my head. Now is not the time.
Ella walks me through a breakdown of the show and then gets me situated with headphones and a microphone. She’s professional but friendly, making it easy to see why so many big-name athletes appear on her show. There’s nothing worse than an interview that feels more like an interrogation than a conversation.
She slips her own pair of headphones on. “You ready?”
Nodding, I give her a thumbs-up. “Let’s do this.”
She hits the record button, and with one more smile my way, she kicks off the show. “Hello, listeners. I’m Ella Gold, the host ofCoffee with Champions, and we’re in Boston today, chatting with the Bobcats’ captain, Nicholas Berrett.”
A hint of nervousness rises in me, but I tamp it down. A podcast is nothing compared to being the center of attention in a packed arena. “Thanks for having me.”
“We have a lot to discuss, considering how damn impressive your career has been, so I’ll jump right in,” she says, her tone light. “Drafted into the NHL at nineteen, with two Stanley Cup rings to your name. Rumor is you’re the good luck charm that earned the Bobcats their first Stanley Cup, breaking their eleven-year losing streak. How do you feel you’ve changed as a player over the years?”
She eases me into the conversation, asking questions about playing hockey as a kid and when I knew I wanted—and was good enough—to go pro. As instructed by my publicist, she doesn’t ask explicit questions about Nathan. I’m fine with mentions of him here and there because he was and still is such an influential part of my life. But it’s when interviewers start to get psychoanalytical and ask how his death affected my game that I lose my ever-loving shit.
We’re talking about last night’s game when Ella admits, “Don’t hate me, but I rooted for the Trailblazers yesterday.” She winces. “In my defense, I’ve been a fan since I was a kid. Curse of being from Chicago, I suppose.”
“I didn’t realize you were from Chicago.” I shift in my seat. “I’m assuming you’re a Desmond Rich fan?”
She nods. “He may as well have a shrine at my parents’ house. When he was traded to the Devils, my dad acted like the world was coming to an end. He still laments about it to this day.”
“The Devils definitely benefited from that trade,” I admit. I was in high school when the four-time Stanley Cup winner came to San Diego. Nate and I snuck out and took a cab to the arena to watch his first game with the team. Got caught and ended up grounded for two weeks, but it was so worth it.
“I heard recently that you may be moving to the Devils next season. Any truth to that rumor?”
Fuck.
My heart lurches painfully, but I keep my face blank. If she’s heard about the trade deal, then she’s far more well-connected than I realized. Everyone involved has kept quiet about it, and any small rumblings that I was headed to San Diego died the moment the trade deadline passed. Cameron and Jake have been pressuring me to talk to Maya about the possibility, but the mere idea of upsetting her makes me nauseous. I can’t lose her, but how can I ask her to move across the country with me, knowing she’ll have to sacrifice the life she’s built here? It’s selfish, and she’s the most selfless person I know.
“Rumors always fly around the trade deadline,” I say, willing my voice not to shake. “If they were all to be believed, I’d be playing for about fifteen teams right now.” I lift one shoulder. “You never know what changes the GMs will make to the team. We were halfway through this season when they traded one of our wingers and two of our defensemen.”
Ella nods, but her brow crinkles with what I fear is doubt. “A lot of players agree that it’s what they signed up for when becoming professional hockey players, but I can’t imagine it’s easy.”
“It’s not,” I admit. “When I was drafted, I only played a season and a half with the Wildcats before I was traded to the Bruisers. You play with these guys day in and day out, build friendships and professional relationships, and just like that”—I snap my fingers—“you’re living in a new city, wearing a new logo, playingwithguys you’ve been playing against for weeks, months, even years.”
“Sounds like you didn’t like being traded very much,” Ella teases with a raised brow. “I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be.”
