She trails off. But she doesn’t have to finish.
I knowexactlywhat it means.
It would mean leaving Chilmore.
Leaving the bakery. Leaving the life she’s built here.
Leavingme.
My mind races. She could be moving. Fucking far away.
A different time zone. A different life.
And I just got cleared to play. Not just practice drills or light skating sessions anymore.Actual game time. The green light I've been waiting weeks for, the moment I've been counting down to since that hit rattled my brain and benched me indefinitely.
My life ishere. On this ice. With this team.
The Snow Leopards aren't just my career… they're the closest thing I've ever had to a family. The locker room banter, the grueling practices, the rush of sixty minutes of chaos with my brothers beside me. Brother I always wanted, but never had.
This is everything I've worked for since I was four years old.
Before I can form a single coherent thought, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I ignore it, because this is just too huge.
But it vibrates again. And again.
I sigh, pulling the phone out. UNKNOWN NUMBER flashes on the screen and a cold trickle runs down my spine as I slam the green button with my thumb.
“Call back later,” I answer, holding my phone to my ear and having zero patience for a phone call right now.
But the voice on the other line is so familiar, I can't help but pause.
“Colt! It’s Marty Fisk.”
My agent? Fuck. I haven’t heard from him in months. Not a word since I've been out of action.
“How are you, my man? You sound busy, so I'll be quick." He chuckles to himself.
I roll my eyes. “What’s up, Martin?”
“I just got off the phone with Willa Jameson. She's told me your news. You're good to go, huh? Managed to flip the switch back on in that pretty little head of yours?"
"Yep," I say, looking down to the ice where the ice cleaner is now patching up after practice. "Seems that way."
"Good, good. Then I've got some incredible news I've been holding back. You ready for this, kid?"
I swallow hard and look to Zoey. She's just standing there, eyes flicking between the envelope and me. I can't believe she might have to move. I can't fucking believe it.
"New York has been calling," Marty's voice pulls me back to the phone call, the words rushing out like he's been holding onto them for too long. "They’ve been watching your recovery. Now that you’re cleared for full contact, the offer is formal."
"What?" I say quietly, my legs suddenly like jelly. "What offer?!"
"They want you, Colt. A two-year contract." Another laugh from my agent, but laughing is the last thing I feel like doing right now. I think I'm going to be sick. "The numbers are… well, let’s just say your parents are going to need a bigger boat.”
New York?
The biggest team in the country?
