“Just business as usual,” Talbot adds.
“They all do squirrely stuff around this time of year, with it being the tax deadline and all.” Lawrence shrugs.
“Why I hate Christmas.” Hudson glowers.
“Bah humbug, Hudson,” Anderson chirps. Hudson kicks his brother’s chair.
“If we didn’t have to package all of this for the Svenssons, we’d come see your last-ever game at the NHL.” Elsa is cheery.
“The team’s not dead yet,” I grumble.
“Your debt is repaid,” Hudson informs me. “You’re free to go after this game.After, you understand? Don’t want to tip anyone off until the Svenssons are ready to move.”
“I’ll write you a receipt.” Elsa waves me over and prints out something I don’t read.
Hudson signs it, then he burns it.
Lawrence makes a papal cross in the air with his energy drink.
“You coming to Christmas?” Elsa calls after me.
“Nah, he’s gonna go travel, finally live life as a free man after the military and Hudson.” Jake snickers.
“He should be grateful—if it weren’t for me, he’d be in jail,” Hudson says.
The door to the nondescript field office slams shut behind me. I’m alone in the alley. The winter wind rushes in my ears as I zip up my jacket.
My last NHL game. Ever. In my entire life.
And the last night I’m going to spend with Ellie.
I don’t know what the Svenssons are planning, but it sounds like it might end with the team folding and her out of a job.
Once I quit the team, Ellie will know that I was a fraud. She won’t want to be with me anyway.
Ellie’s on the ice.I watch her skate for a moment—sharp, focused, relentless. Every movement is clean. Controlled. Beautiful. Her quick release sends puck after puck at Ren in the net, and I can’t help but admire her form even as something curdles in my gut.
I trudge into the locker room and start pulling on my gear. If this is my last night in the NHL, I’m spending every second of it on the ice.
Zayne’s sitting on the bench, hunched over, looking like he needs a drink. He probably already had one. Eddie shoots me an angry glare when I walk in. Cookie’s sobbing on the floor, his helmet still on, his gloved hands covering his face. The sound rips through the room like a gut punch.
“What happened?” I demand.
“Guess you didn’t hear the good news,” Bramms mutters bitterly.
“What?”
Bramms says, “She’s leaving.”
My gut clenches. “Who?”
Bramms stares at me, dead-eyed. “Ellie. They’re hiring a new coach. She’s leaving us.”
Jonesy sighs. “Does that mean no more snacks?”
“Shit,” Ziggy says soberly. “No more winning.”
A black hole opens up inside my chest. This is not how I’m going out.
