“No, you can’t,” he agrees, “but that doesn’t mean they need to have their full ice time minutes.” His voice goes low. “You pull off a win against Florida and there is nothing they can say about it.”
“If this works,” I tell him, “I’m going to want to sit down with you when I get back to go over a couple of things. If I’m going to stay, I’m going to need more support than Eric.”
“You have Cam,” he points out.
“I don’t,” I admit to him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t depend on him.”
“He’s been with the organization a long time, Zane,” Ken reminds me. “So before you bring this further, think about it.”
“I will.” I take a deep inhale. “Can I mention to the guys that I know about this, or is it supposed to be confidential?”
“Don’t give a shit. If they took this to their agent, confidentiality went out the window. I’m going to have to do what I need to do, and I needed you to know.”
“Thanks.” I put the phone down beside me and want nothing more than to call Victoria and talk to her about this. Just even to hear her voice.
That night, I pick up the phone and call her, and it rings twice and then goes to voicemail. I wait for it to beep and finally talk.
“Hey,” I say softly and close my eyes, “just calling to see how you are feeling.” I wait for a full five seconds before I say, “I miss you.” Then I hang up the phone.
I send her a text also.
Me:
Just called you. Checking in.
Beautiful Goddess:
Hey, sorry, on a conference call. Talk later or tomorrow since there is a time difference.
Me:
Okay, hope you are feeling better.
I put the phone down and stare out the window. The next day I get up and I’m the first one in the bus as the team heads over to the rink for practice. I wait to be the only one in the dressing room with Jaxon before I say something. “Just wanted you to know, five players are asking to either be traded or have me replaced.”
The shock fills his face. “I knew there was tension for sure but to ask to be traded?” he snaps. “Who?”
“I’m not naming names, but just wanted you to be aware of it.” I look over to see Kirby walking in. “The two of you, I’m going to be giving you extra ice time tonight, but I’m not announcing it.” Kirby and Jaxon share a look. “Let’s get on the ice,” I urge, walking past them, knowing that Jaxon will fill him in. The practice is light since we play tonight and when we head back to the hotel, I look over at Eric. “I want to go over something with you.”
We walk into my hotel room, review the lines and I finally make my play. “They get less ice time,” I finally share. “I hate cutting the bench, but I’m not fucking around. You can’t be a team player; you don’t get to play on the team.”
“About fucking time,” Eric declares. “I’ll handle the lines.”
“Let’s do this.” I slap him on the back and that night when I get to the arena, I can feel a difference in the room.
Jaxon and Kirby are quiet as they look around and take in everything. Knox just scowls at everyone, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Gentlemen,” I say before we take the ice, “not only are we playing the reigning Stanley Cup champions”—I look at the room—“we need these two points more than you know. Let’s go out there and fuck things up,” I say, clapping my hands and heading out.
The crowd boos us as soon as the players skate on the ice, and I look up at the board with a deep sigh. Eric and I decided we are going to play the lines like normal and slowly take time away.
Every fucking minute I feel like I’m holding my breath and when we finally score first, I can’t explain how exciting that feels. This team is the best of the best. They didn’t change anyone from last season. It doesn’t take them long to respond, and we end the first period tied.
When we start the second period, I look over to see Cam huddling with the five players, but who really knows what he’s saying. Things between us have still been tense and I’m not so sure he’s being helpful. The first shift they get on, they fuck up the play and lose the puck, lucky for us, Jaxon blocks the shot.
When he comes back to the bench, he leans over Kirby. “You guys think you cannot fuck up like that again?” he asks them, and they just look over at him, giving him the stink eye. The second period has a lucky shot that bounces and there is nothing our goalie can do to stop it.
We start the third period trailing by one. “We can still tie this game,” I state to the bench as Cam stands there with his hands behind him, rocking on his feet. Eric is giving the five players less and less ice time, and they are glancing at each other, sharing a look, and then looking at Cam, who continues to side-eye me, the tension growing between us.
“Three minutes to go, we pull Sammy,” I instruct Cam, who shakes his head. “I’m not asking you; I’m telling you, at three minutes to go, we pull him out of the goal.”
