After a one night stand on New Year's Eve, Lia and Derrick don't expect to see one another again. After all, she's a Harvard PhD student and he's a professional hockey player for the Boston Knights - there's no way their paths should cross again.
E...
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It hadn't been a shock that the Knights had moved forward with their plan to trade me, not really, but the way it'd ended up going down—man, was it rough.
The hours had been winding down to the deadline, yet through morning workout, practice, and the team meeting after, not a word came down from the front office. In fact, for a few moments, there'd been a growing bubble of hope that the stress I'd been shouldering the last couple weeks would simply fall away. That there'd be no trade, and nothing would change.
Boy was I wrong.
When the team returned to the locker room after watching game film, the team's general manager was waiting. Waiting for me. Waiting to rip me from my teammates, and without the decency to pull me aside, he began his address in front of them.
"Wellsley," he'd said with a strong and commanding tone, "you'll need to collect your things and say your goodbyes. The Royals are expecting you at their practice facility tomorrow morning, and you've got a spot booked on a flight out in four hours." There was no wavering from his side, even as I stood stock still, absorbing his words despite the uncomfortable gazes coming from the guys around me. "Your agent has been notified and sent the appropriate information, and we advise you speak with him before meeting with your new team in Los Angeles. And finally, thank you." He offered his hand, and not fully processing, I shook it. "Thank you for the work you've put into this team the last couple of years. We appreciate it and can't wait to see your career grow with your new team."
It was to the point, informational, and absolutely heartless.
The next hour was a haze of goodbyes, see-you-soons, and the most awkward ride back to the apartment with Nyberg. Though now it was only his apartment, and his alone.
"This isn't how I wanted today to go, you know," he said, brows furrowed as he leaned against the doorway to my room as I pulled together what I could into a suitcase.
"But we both saw it coming," I replied, my voice still void of any emotion. It'd been that way since I'd received the trade news, and honestly, would probably be like that until I got a moment to myself to process that this was really happening.
I was headed back to the west coast. To Los Angeles. To play for the Royals.
Nyberg shrugged. "Doesn't mean it doesn't suck. I mean, who's going to yell at the TV with me while I watch our opponents play one another, or carpool to practice with me, or help out with Scout by taking him on walks?"
Whether it was hearing his name, or the word 'walk', Scout began bounding down the hall, barking up a storm as he skidded into the room. Circling Nyberg for a few seconds, his attention was quickly refocused when he noticed the state of my room. Sniffing around, it was like he could tell that I was packing to leave—and not just for a road trip.
"Hey buddy," I said, combing my hands through his fur as he looked at me with sad dog eyes. "I know you can probably see that I'm leaving, but I just want you to know that it's not by choice. I'd stay with you forever if I could." His tongue darted out to lick my cheek affectionately. "I love you too, but I'm going to need you to pretend Nyberg's your favorite from now on. I know it'll be difficult, but—"
