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“In the car going home, just got in New York,” he says. “What do you want, golden boy?”
“Um…” Emily gestures for me to join her at an outdoor table of a café. “What’s this about me not being able to retire?”
“Who told you that?” Terry sounds indignant.
“That’s what you told Emily.” I take a seat, and a waitress appears instantly.
While Emily peruses the menus, Terry insists, “It must have been a misunderstanding, Andrew, I told her I don’t want you to retire, not that you can’t!”
I breathe a sigh of relief, but I’m still feeling mistrustful of him.
“There are two contracts, golden boy,” Terry continues explaining. “The one you renew with the NHL every season, and that one ends in June. However, the other contract is the one you just renewed with me for five years. We have another four years ahead of us, so if you retire now, you’ll have to compensate me for that remaining time, but yes, you can retire.”
Now I swallow in a bitter gulp of air. “How much are we talking about?” I ask, feeling the bridge of my nose with my bad hand.
“I prefer to discuss that in person,” Terry says dryly. “We’re about to go inside a tunnel, Andrew, talk to you later.”
And he hangs up. I stare at the phone for a moment, taking in the news, and only then place it back into my pocket.
“He hung up on you?” Emily raises an eyebrow.
“The quality of the call was terrible, but I’m absolutely sure I heard his daughter say, ‘What tunnel dad?’” I say in disbelief.
“Oh, he pulled the tunnel trick on you,” she says, and I just shake my head. She continues, “I ordered you a cherry soda.”
But I can barely enjoy it, now wondering how difficult it will be to get out of my contract with Terry.
Chapter Thirty
EMILY
Alissa had a nightmare late last night, and I spent three hours with her on the phone to help her fall asleep again.
Andrew had left early, leaving me in bed to sleep in.
Andrew received clearance from the doctor and is free to resume training and playing, if he takes it easy and doesn’t strain his arm.
He’s brimming with excitement on the ice, gliding from side to side, weaving effortlessly through the other players.
“Woo-hoo! Go Connoly!” I shout, my arms raised in the air. Andrew notices me, blowing me a kiss and making me proud.
The bleachers are open to the public, and there are reporters and photographers scattered everywhere, all hoping for a word from the Razorhawks.
I see Tamara sitting alone in the players’ box. I approach her, and she welcomes me with a big smile.
“Where were you?” she asks as I take a seat next to her.
“Had to deal with my daughter’s nightmare via video call, so I gave myself permission to sleep in for a while longer,” I yawn. “How are the guys doing?”
“Great!” she replies cheerfully. “Bobby is working brilliantly with the wingers. I hope Andrew can come back as a starter.”
“Um, I’m not so sure,” I furrow my brow. “I don’t know if he’s ready for a full game just yet. I’m worried about him putting too much strain on his arm.”
The Coach comes to sit in the players’ box as well, to scream and shout at them from a better vantage point.
“Hey, Coach!” Tamara calls out to him, and he looks over his shoulder with an unfriendly expression. “Do you think Connoly will make the next game?”
Hanson’s expression softens a bit, and he shrugs quite openly, unsure of what answer to give. “Might put him in the end, if things turn out smoothly. He needs to take it slow for now.”
