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No way am I letting my teammates down.
Especially this year.
With the team we have this year, I have no doubt that the Boston Guardians will qualify for the Stanley Cup playoffs. This club hasn’t won that trophy in over a decade, always coming in second or third to the New York Mavericks or The Chicago Titans. If I got suspended due to bad behavior and the team were to lose their chances at the Stanley Cup because of it, I would never be able to forgive myself.
Fuck that.
No way that’s happening.
I’ll do whatever I need to do to stay on the team.
I just hope I figure out what that is before it’s too late.
Chapter 2
Nathan
After making sure Coach doesn’t want to impart any more words of wisdom on me, I excuse myself from his office and dash towards the locker room to put on my workout gear. There’s no way I’ll survive practice if I don’t get at least an hour in the gym to blow off some steam. I’m sure my teammates will have loads of questions about why Coach needed a one-on-one with me, but hopefully, they will keep their distance while I try to work out my frustrations by pumping some iron.
But just as I’m about to sit down on a bench to put on my sneakers, theStar Wars Imperial Marchringtone starts bouncing off the locker room’s walls.
Great.
That’s all I need—my agent blowing up my phone.
I stare at the Darth Vader avatar flashing away on my phone screen and have half a mind to just let her call go to voicemail.
Not that it will do me any good.
Piper would just have her assistant call me every five minutes until I either turned off my phone or finally answeredher call. As much as I would love nothing more than to switch my phone off instead of having the painful conversation with my agent about the shitshow that I’m in, it would only serve to piss her off more and guarantee a little visit from her to the arena.
And a mad Piper Lee is something no one wants to deal with.
I might be six-three and weigh a little over two-hundred pounds, but size means jack shit compared to my agent’s wrath. She’s fucking terrifying when she wants to be.
See, Coach?
Not everyone needs therapy.
Sometimes people are just prickly assholes because that’s how the good old lord made ‘em, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.
But then again, I doubt Piper gets shit from her bosses for being a hard-ass. They probably see the trait as one of her best qualities and even reward her for it with all the accolades that only top-tier sports agents can get.
When the ringtone dies, only to blast again a few seconds later, I know she won’t give up until she talks to me. With a mumbled curse, I pick up my phone from the wooden bench and answer her call.
“Well, that took you long enough,” Piper says in greeting.
“Morning to you too, Lee,” I grumble.
“Is that all you’re going to say?” she bites back. “Just good morning? You’re going to have to do a lot better than that, Nathan. I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for you to call me after your little talk with Coach Byrne. What did he say?”
How the fuck does she know?
“How do you know that we talked?” I ask point-blank. “I barely left his office ten minutes ago.”
“You should know me well enough by now that I knoweverythingthat has to do with my players,” she retorts withannoyance. “Now stop evading the question and tell me the verdict already.”
With a defeated exhale, I lie down on the locker bench, close my eyes, and begin lightly tapping my forehead with my clenched fist.
