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I pulled up a photo of Charlie on my phone. “Cutest kid on the planet.”
“He is. Look at that big noggin. So how’s your woman?”
“Charlotte’s great.” I looked through Orion’s office window in the back of the locker room and saw him sitting at his desk. “Hey, I have to go talk to Orion.”
“Cool, see you around.”
I saw Liam on the other side of the room. He nodded and I nodded back. He’d stopped by Charlotte’s a few times since we’d brought Charlie home. Things seemed better between us. I hoped eventually it would be like old times again.
“Bennett,” Orion said as soon as I walked into his office.
“Hey, Coach. Thanks for the flowers you and your wife sent Charlotte.”
“Fortunately, my wife’s good at those things. How’s life with a baby?”
I sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “It’s really good. Tiring, but good.”
“Glad to hear it.”
I took a deep breath, deciding to just dive right in. “So listen, I’m sure you want to know what my plans are since I told you in May that I was probably done.”
“Have you reconsidered?”
I shrugged. “No. I think it’s time to move on. But Charlotte sees it as giving up on my dream, and she doesn’t want me doing that.”
“You don’t see it that way?”
“No. I’m almost twenty-seven years old, and I’ve been playing hocke
y most of my life. I’ve loved it. It would’ve been nice to make it to the top, but my dream was to play pro hockey, and I did. And thanks to the shitty salary, I got to play purely for love of the game.”
Orion grinned and picked up a puck from his desk, turning it over in his hand. “Yeah, I remember those days. When your practice clothes are held together with duct tape and you can’t always afford a new stick when you need one.”
“I’d love to coach at some point. Maybe youth hockey. This isn’t it for me and hockey for sure.”
“No, it’s definitely not. I didn’t ask you to come in so I could ask about your plans for the season.”
“Oh.” I furrowed my brow, confused.
“I wanted to tell you that Chicago wants you.”
If my bladder had been full, I would’ve pissed myself. I just looked across the desk at my coach, too shocked to even speak.
“No more duct tape for you. You’re in a great spot to get a nice contract. They want you to start training camp with the team.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“I fucking am.” He grinned and stood, coming around the desk to shake my hand.
“I don’t . . .” I shook his hand mechanically, my head spinning. “I don’t know what to say.”
“This is it, Bennett. The chance to play at the highest level of the game.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Yeah, but . . . the timing is really bad.”
“How so?”
“I’ve got a four-week-old.”
