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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The days ticked down, flying past in a whir of traveling, strategic practices, and hard-fought games.
When it came to playing—whether that be in a scrimmage or out in front of a crowd—I was zoned in. Focused on my teammates, my opponents, the path of the puck, and doing everything I could to propel the team to victory.
It was everything else in my life that fell victim to my distracted mind. On edge, the voice in the back of my head began growing louder and louder, repeatedly reminding me that my time in Boston was likely coming an end.
After that first story had run—a dark shadow over a great performance on my end—the gossip about a possible trade had picked up steam. Now there were whole ass websites dedicated to tracking the latest sports news leaks, and everybody was wondering what the outcome would be.
No one more so than me.
I tensed every time my phone pinged with a message and could feel the stress fill my body when my agent called to check in. Now, when I walked into the Knights' complex, I felt like people had their eyes on me, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to tell me I'd been booted out. And with the speculation now out there, I'd started distancing myself from my teammates outside of the arena, except Nyberg, of course. It was just easier this way, because while most of them ignored the elephant in the room, understanding that nothing could be done to save me, it still stung whenever a look of pity or sympathy got tossed my way. Like the ink on the paper had already gone and dried.
I felt like some part of me was broken, or at the very least crumbling under the pressure of this specific spotlight. Which was why, before I climbed on the team's morning flight back to Boston, I was strolling the streets of New York, following the directions my agent had texted me to a coffee shop around the corner from our hotel.
Answers. I needed answers. And while they wouldn't be concrete, I needed some kind of footing to stand on knowing that the trade deadline was less than ten days away.
Stepping inside the coffee shop, I took a moment to shake the snow off me and arced my gaze in search of Ken. Easily finding him, I zigzagged through the growing line of customers and headed to the table he was seated at.
He stood as I approached, offering his hand to shake. "Great game last night, man. It's nice to see you giving it your all out there."
I mustered up a small smile. "Thanks," I responded as we both sat down. "And it's good to finally be able to hash all this out face to face."
Nodding in agreement, he said, "It's definitely not something I like to do over the phone, so—" I stiffened, bracing myself as he hopped right into things. "—while we don't have full confirmation, there's a high likelihood you're one of the Knights' prime pieces as they consider offers leading up to the trade deadline."
Fuck.
He certainly hadn't beaten around the bush.
A bubble of panic began to brew inside of me, but I pushed it down as best I could. I needed to have my thoughts straight for this conversation, so I took slow breaths and leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table as my hands covered my eyes.
