“Eli! What are you doing?”
He turns with a smile I’ve never seen on him before, one that promises nothing good.
“It can’t hurt to see if there’s anything I can find in here to make sure he pays for pushing you, right?”
“Fuck, Eli. That’s not?—”
He waves me away and looks back down at his phone, nods to himself, then places Ewing’s phone right back where he found it.
As if he hadn’t just broken the law—probably a few, actually—he jumps back down and strolls over to me, and nods at my duffel.
“Is that all?”
“What? What?” I repeat. I can’t fucking think.
“Let me help.” He goes right in and pulls out all the contents of my cubbie so they fall in, then zips it closed and shoulders it.
“I can carry it,” I protest, but he’s already walking out.
Dad nods at Eli like he’s just completed some important task when we walk back to him, then throws his keys at him after Eli passes my bag to Austin.
“Take this all to his place then meet us at Cedars-Sinai?—”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital, Dad,” I interrupt, knowing damn well the security guards a few steps away will report back to the GM and probably anyone else who asks about what we talk about.
Dad spares me a look that tells me to shut up, and I just don’t have any energy left.
My shoulders droop in defeat and I just let him take care of all of it now.
What’s the point in resisting?
It’s not like I didn’t earn this with every stupid decision I’ve made since I joined this godforsaken team.
“Here you go, sir.”
The door to the private room opens and Patrick walks in, his face transforming from the smile he offered the nurse into that quiet focus that always gives me peace of mind.
It’s the kind of determination he goes into boardrooms with, the one that made me want to sign on with him, and that is one thing I’ll never regret.
“What did the doctor say?”
I appreciate the fact that he asks me, even though it was Dad who called him from my car.
“We’re just waiting for them to get a look at the X-rays,” I tell him, my voice coming out robotic and still sounding ridiculous despite that.
“Good.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. It’s quick, but it’s enough time to have me bracing for the worst. I don’t know why, but I just know he doesn’t have good news. “The Empire accepted a trade from the Demons. The league has been notified and as soon as they accept it, it’ll be announced.”
I . . .
What?
“Fuck,” Dad spits, and I don’t think I have anything better to say, even if I could get my mouth to work again, or even the connection between my brain and my mouth to function properly. “That was fucking fast.”
“It was,” Patrick says, voice measured even as he sucks in another deep breath and crosses his arms. “I wasn’t aware they were in talks, and I don’t know if that’s because they weren’t and this just worked out exceedingly fast, or because they didn’t want me to know, but since New York wasn’t on your fuck-no list, they told me this was the only trade they would accept for you, and I...” He looks at me then, his eyes softening around the corners. “You can still say no, and I sure as shit wouldn’t blame you even with what happened today, but I don’t think they’re bluffing.”
“They’d keep me for another two seasons here or send me down to the AHL before giving me anything they think I want,” I surmise and Dad spits a few more colorful curses.
“I’m sorry,” he says, regret painting his words.
