CHAPTER ONE
Leo’s palms were sweating before Briggs said a word. The coach wouldn’t look at him—just sat there, chin down, hands folded. Leo had sat in this chair enough times to know what eye contact meant to Briggs. The benching in January, the scratched game against Duluth, and the talk after Rockford, where Leo earned a game misconduct for running his mouth. Briggs had stared him down through all of it. Now the man was studying his own desk, and Leo’s mouth went dry.
“Front office made a deal with Port Haven,” Briggs said.
Leo’s stomach bottomed out. He heard himself laugh—short, reflexive, already shaping itself into armor before his brain caught up. “That’s in Wisconsin, right?”
“The Lakeshore Stags, yeah.”
“That’s not—” He stopped, swallowed the rest of it, whatever it was going to be—that’s not a real team, that’s not where careers go to grow, that’s not what I fucking deserve—and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, casual as a man who hadn’t just been gut-punched. “When?”
“Effective today. Training camp’s a few weeks out, but I’d get up there sooner rather than later. Meet the coaching staff, get a lay of the land. Show them you want to be there.”
Leo pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and counted backward from five. A therapist had taught him that once. Or maybe he’d seen it on TikTok. Either way, his jaw still wouldn’t unclench.
“My agent?—”
“Will have the details to you by the end of the day. I wanted to be the one to tell you, and I also wanted to have a chat with you.”
Briggs finally looked up. His coach’s expression wasn’t unkind, which somehow made it worse. Unkind, Leo could’ve fought. This was closer to pity softened by professional obligation, and it lodged in Leo’s chest like a stone.
“You’re talented, Vargas. Nobody’s questioning that.” Briggs set his pen down again, adjusting it a millimeter. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He pursed his lips, the same way he did in the locker room following a shitty game. “But talent’s only part of it. Think about whether you want to be part of a team.”
Briggs was already standing. Hand out. Leo took it because that’s what you did—shook firm, smiled like it cost you nothing, said something about appreciating the opportunity that tasted like ash on the way out. He didn’t remember walking down the corridor. He barely registered the training room door, the equipment cage, the long hallway that smelled like rubber and industrial cleaner. Before he knew it, he was in the parking garage. The summer air was so thick it pressed against his chest like a hand.
He stood next to his Audi with his keys digging into his palm. Didn’t unlock it. Didn’t move. Just stood there breathing garage air and staring at the concrete pillar in front of him until his phone rang.
He didn’t need to check the screen.
“Mijo, what ishappening?” Not a question. Carmen Vargas didn’t ask questions she didn’t already know the answer to. Lovely. “I just got off the phone with Delia, who heard from somebody in the front office that you’ve beentraded? To where? No one is telling me anything, Leo. I’ve been calling?—”
“Mom.” He thumbed the remote start and leaned against the trunk while the AC did its work, free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “It just happened. I literally just walked out of Coach’s office.”
“Well, what did he say? What were hisexact words?”
Leo closed his eyes. His exact words had been, “Think about whether you want to be part of a team,” which was coach-speak foryou’re the problem. Leo was not going to hand those words to his mother like a loaded weapon she could use to burn the entire organization down.
“Standard stuff. Thanks for your time. Best of luck.”
“That’sit? After everything you’ve done for this team—after the season you just had—Leo, this is career suicide. They areburyingyou. I’m calling Phil. I’m calling the league office. There has to be grounds for?—”
“It’s a trade, Mom. It’s not illegal.”
“Don’t take that tone with me. I am trying tohelpyou.”
And she was. That was the worst part—he couldn’t even be mad at her because she meant every word. Carmen Vargas loved her son like a wrecking ball loved a building. Total commitment, zero awareness of the damage.
He sank into the driver’s seat and hissed as the heat seeped through his joggers. “I know. I know you are. But I need you to let me figure out the next step before you start making calls, okay? Let me talk to Phil first.”
“Phil should already be on the phone. Phil should have known about this before you did. What are we even paying him for?”
We.As if his agent was a family employee. As if any of this was happening to her.
“I’ll call him right now. I promise.” He let his head fall back to the headrest and closed his eyes. If he’d been a better player, he could have demanded Phil include teams he absolutely didn’t want to be traded to in his contract. Unfortunately, being a solid semi-pro player meant he couldn’t afford to be picky. “I’ll let you know what he says.”
“Fine. But you call me the second you know something. Thesecond, Leo.”
“I will.”
