He shakes his head and points at my chest.“You.Not how much you’re scoring, or your old injury.I’m worried about my friend and teammate.”
I look away, his words making me emotional.
“I know the contract thing has to be eating you up inside,” he says.“It’s fucking hard to keep playing your best on these killer road trips when you feel like every game has to be your best one ever.”
I nod, look at the floor, and then back up at him.“Yeah.All that.I’m tired, sore, and pissed off at myself for not scoring last night.My family is counting on me and I have a family member who’s going through some health issues.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
I inhale deeply and let the breath out, making myself relax.“I shouldn’t have lost my shit back there.”
He shrugs.“Happens to all of us.Bash and Leo have punched each other in our locker room, more than once.”
“I missed two full seasons rehabbing.I’ve wanted another contract for so long.Ineedone.I’ve given up ...”I shake my head.“Honestly, everything.Everything I have goes into helping my family and working toward this contract.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder.“You need more than that.”
“I can’t.”I rake a hand through my hair, my laugh edged with bitterness.“If I’m giving it my all and I still don’t have an offer, the last thing I can do is back off and try less.”
“You’ll get a contract.I wouldn’t say that unless I was positive.Have you talked to your agent about it?”
“Yeah, we have interest.”
“Magnus.”He puts his other hand on my other shoulder, his gaze locked onto mine.“I don’t have talks like this with all my teammates.Just the ones who are also friends.Ones I hope to have as long-term teammates.Don’t self-destruct.Don’t deny yourself everything that fills the well back up or you’ll run dry.You got me?”
I nod, his words landing hard because he’s right.I’m so fucking close to empty right now.I’m tired of never feeling like I’m good enough.
And the hell of it is, the only one who’s made me feel that way is me.
“I hear you.I’ll work on it.”I clear the gravel from my throat.“Thanks, Carter.”
He claps me on the back and heads for the door, turning the handle and looking back at me.
“Save the rage for the game.Should be a good one, because now Outhouse has to take a few hits just to prove you wrong.”
That makes me smile.“Yeah.And I’ll still be right, but he’ll be sore, too.For once.”
“See, I associated the ‘Cat’ nickname with him being a pussy.”
I laugh.“Maybe that is the one.”
He shakes his head.“Nope.No one chooses their nickname.”
I think it’s fate.
Before the start of the Nashville game, I reframed things for myself.I told myself that tonight, I’m a member of a team in the highest-caliber league in the world.I earned my way here.I’m not just a number on the spreadsheets of team GMs.
I released the choke hold I’ve had over my own enjoyment of the game.I didn’t beat myself up over every little mistake.I celebrated my teammates’ wins—even Cole’s assist.I stopped seeing my teammates as competition.
And not only did I have more fun than I’ve had playing hockey in years, I scored a goal.When my teammates gathered around me to celebrate, I wondered if Blair and the boys were watching back home.I thought about calling her after the game, but I talked myself out of it, deciding it was too late.
But there’s Jules, sitting alone in a seat in the back of the bus that will take us to the airport.She has her laptop out and her headphones in.
When I approach, she smiles and takes her headphones off.“Hey, great game tonight.”
“Thanks.”I look from side to side, keeping my voice low.“I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure, how can I help?”
