I lean back, forcing myself not to take that step away from him. “I’m sure there’s something there, boss. I’ll get you your evidence.”
He gives me one more long, icy glare then turns away. “And Gracie wants to know if you’re coming for Christmas this year.”
“I guess if I’m not playing—”
“You’re not going to be playing.” He’s terse. “The client wants Dana Holbrook’s head on a platter by Christmas Eve.”
“The Svenssons want this info as a Christmas present,” Lawrence says as he spins around in his chair.
“Once you deliver, you’re a free man.” He looks at me. He’s waiting for a response.
“Yeah, I’ll get it.”
“I don’t know how,”I mutter to myself as I pull on my cap and trudge through the snow.
I don’t mind the cold—love it, even. Cold feels like hockey, feels like freedom, even though it’s been years since I’ve been stuck in my mom’s house with her shitty parade of boyfriends.
I never should have stuck my neck out for her.
But then I wouldn’t have gotten this chance, my only chance ever to play in the NHL. My dream come true.
My nightmare, really.
My team is bad. They could easily get beat by a minor-league team. Shoot, they could probably get beaten by a U18 rec-league team or something.
“We’ll get a better coach,” I tell myself, because even though Hudson says I’m outta there by Christmas, a guy can dream, right?
Maybe they’ll hire a real coach. It will be like the movies—a grizzled veteran whips up a ragtag group. Like that old ’80s movieRockyor something. We’ll win the Stanley Cup, and I’ll kiss the girl at the end of the movie.
As if.
I don’t have anything to offer a girl.
Not that I want love—or would want what Hudson has with Gracie.
I tried to date after I got back from the military. Couldn’t seem to make myself care about the girls complaining about their office jobs or their friends. Even when I played in the minors briefly, all the girls wanted to do was go party. They chased after hockey players but could barely hold a conversation about the game, let alone play it.
In fact, the only girl I’ve met who gives a shit about hockey since Hudson kicked me through the back door into the NHL is Ellie. And I’d rather keep losing hockey games than even entertain any sort of interest in the PR princess.
My phone beeps. I have it set to notify me anytime there’s hockey news breaking, big or small.
New coach announced for the Rhode Island Hockey Club.
I take a steadying breath, then I open the announcement.
I peer at the photo. I can’t believe it.
A fuckinggirl?
Wait.
That fucking girl?
3
ELLIE
The Holbrook Enterprises Tower looms like a fortress against the snowy sky.
