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My heart races so fast I can hardly breathe as it attempts to claw its way out of my chest. I cross my arms and lean back in my chair to get comfortable.
“Just rip off the Band-Aid and give it to me straight,” I say.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I talked to the owner, smoothed things over, but this is your last chance.”
I tap my fingers on the chair. “What about playoffs? Will I still be eligible to play?”
“You’ll be back in time… as long as you agree to our terms.” His stare is hard and cold. “Considering what you did, you’re getting off easy.”
Annoyed, I groan. “You call twenty games without pay or play easy?”
“Your father had a lot to do with the leniency this organization has shown you. I’ve known Nick since we were rookies. He was a good player and an even better man. I respect him, and so I’m willing to work with you on this matter. The owner is sick of this shit. There was talk about trading you to another team. You’re becoming too much of a liability.”
My mouth drops in horror. “Not a trade. I won’t go.”
“You don’t have a choice. Violating the rules revokes some of the provisions in your contract, making it a lot easier to send you to another team. But I fought for you. Your agent went to bat for you, too. Consider this your last straw. You have to work with me. No more messing around, Duke.”
“Anything,” I stammer.
I can’t lose my position on this team. My teammates are like brothers to me. We’re a unit, a family.
“Once a week, until your suspension is lifted, you’re going to anger management.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “You want me to go to therapy?” I shake my head. “No, I’m not spilling my guts to some doctor. My dad tried that shit after my mom died. It doesn’t work on me.”
“I don’t care if it works,” he growls.
“Twenty games… but that’s over two months of therapy.”
He shrugs against his chair, his broad shoulders more prominent in the pale blue oxford that hugs his thick chest. Like me, Tom is a big guy and just as muscular as he was in his prime.
“This is your only option. Enter treatment or face a possible trade. You don’t want to end up like Alex Parker, do you? Look at where messing with the owner had gotten him.”
I mull over his words for a few seconds and then nod. Alex Parker, my former teammate, confused the owner’s granddaughter for a puck bunny. They had a sex tape of them in a hotel elevator as proof. Talk about embarrassing. Plus, it wasn’t his first scandal, and this isn’t my first suspension for fighting.
“I guess I don’t have a choice.”
Tom shakes his head. “Nope. So, what’s it going to be? Make up your mind. Anger management or a trade?”
I shove a hand through my hair and sigh. “Anger management.”
“It’ll be over before you know it.”
I snicker at his comment. Easy for him to say.
“This could be a good thing for you, Duke. You have a lot of pent up anger you need to get out.”
“I’m a hockey player. I’m aggressive by nature.”
Tom laughs. “Look on the bright side. You’ll be back in time for the playoffs. Bide your time and keep your head down. Your dad told me all about the situation with Kat and Dean Crawford. Family issues don’t belong on the ice. Next time you have a problem, take that shit outside. No more screwing around after this suspension is over, or you won’t have a position on this team. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Duke, I’ve known you since you were in diapers,” Tom says, “back when you were missing your front tooth and spit milk on the carpet for fun.”
I laugh at the memory. I was always defiant, even as a kid.
“I’ve watched you grow into a talented hockey player,” he continues. “And you’re an asset to this team. But you have issues you need to address off the ice before you can come back. Consider the advice the doctor gives you and use this as a way to learn from your mistakes. Now that you’ve gotten that shit with Crawford out of your system, I expect you to come back mentally and physically stronger and better than ever. No more screwing around. Got it?”
