He turns to the rest of the team. “Alright, get out there for the last warm-up and let’s win this.”
The team disperses and I rush to my stall, yanking my clothes off and dressing in my equipment as fast as I can.
“Miller.” Ward’s still frowning. “You’re in pregame press tonight.”
I nod again, and he’s gone.
On the ice, I do a few laps before I head to the press station at the side of the rink.
The reporter gives me a friendly nod. “Good evening. As of this afternoon, an insider with the Vancouver Storm said the team is entertaining trade offers for you from various organizations.”
My pulse stops. I stare at the reporter, not sure if I heard right.
“And your father and agent, Rick Miller,” she adds, “confirmed the presence of these offers.”
The missed call from him. The texts blowing up my phone.
“We’ve seen a different playing style from you this season, and you’re no longer the top scorer in the league,” she continues, but I’m half listening. “How does the Storm organization feel about this when you have the highest salary in professional hockey?”
She tips the microphone to me while my world collapses.
I’m getting traded. I thought Ward was proud and all the pieces were falling into place, but now I’m being traded. I’m getting sent away from the woman I love.
She signed a studio lease; she needs to stay in Vancouver. She’s going to need me over the next year as she opens her studio. I can’t leave her.
Before our life together can truly start, it’s over. I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’m not leaving.”
The reporter gives me a strange frown. The decision is up to the coach and owners, not me. “Is there another organization you’re favoring?”
“No.” I shake my head, pulse hammering. “I’m not going.” My words are sharp. “I love this team, I love playing for Tate Ward, and I love my girlfriend. Her job and life are here and I’m not moving away from her.” I can feel the stubborn set of my jaw as I glare at the reporter. “I’m not leaving.”
CHAPTER 78
HAZEL
I finish teaching shortly after nine that evening, but instead of walking home to my apartment, I head to Rory’s.
Maybe I’ll take some photos for him, I think with a coy grin. Ward has a no-phones policy in the dressing room, but Rory will see them after the game.
The night is chilly as I walk, and I’m overcome with the urge to text him. When I pull my phone out, though, a slew of messages and missed calls light up the screen.
Three from Pippa. A few from my dad. Texts from Hayden and a handful of other players and staff.
Call me, Pippa says.
“Finally,” she answers when I call.
“Tell me what the fuck is happening.”
She hesitates.
“Tell me.” People on the sidewalk flinch away from my sharp tone.
“Rory might get traded.”
I stop walking, and every muscle in my body tenses. “What?” I ask softly.
No. I heard wrong.
“Rory might get traded,” she repeats, quieter. “I’m sorry.”
But—no. He loves playing for Ward, and he’s worked so hard to earn his spot on the team. Rory’s finally playing in a way that makes him happy. His teammates are like his brothers, and he’s developed into an incredible captain. He’s talking to his mom again.
I love him. He can’t leave Vancouver.
A weird noise comes out of my throat, but no words form.
“Rumors started online this afternoon,” Pippa adds.
I’ve been teaching all afternoon, and my phone has been in my bag on silent.
“His dad confirmed the Storm have offers from other teams.”
I’ve seen this happen before. The trade rumors start and teams throw in their offers for a player in case there’s any legitimacy to them.
We love each other. I finally gathered the courage to say it to him, and now this? Our relationship is so new and fragile, and now that I’ve signed a studio lease, my dream is happening here. I can’t move. I can’t go with him unless I back out of the lease.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
We say a tense goodbye, and I open Google. The top search result is a video, and I open it right there on the sidewalk.
It’s Rory being interviewed in pregame press, wearing the same stricken look he wore during yoga that time, like he’s been blindsided. My eyes sting. He doesn’t want to leave the Storm, and my heart’s breaking for him.