Page 43 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

The door behind him creaks open and Spencer cautiously peeks his head out into the hallway. Beau drops his hand from my face and I let go of his shirt, and it immediately feels wrong. I only have a handful of hours until he’s halfway across the country; I need to touch him.

“Everything okay out here?” Spencer asks.

“No,” I answer honestly, because no part of me can pretend that it is.

TWENTY-ONE

BEAU

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out, Beau?” Trav sounds wrecked. “You’re leaving.”

Spencer grimaces. “I have a couple of things to go over with you.”

Trav turns on my poor agent, his eyes full of fury. “When did you know about this?”

“Minutes before Beau did. Believe me, I’m pissed off too. Completely blindsided, especially given Beau’s performance this season.”

“This is bullshit,” Trav grumbles. “What if I quit? Or refuse to play?”

“You have a contract,” Spencer points out. “They could sue and they’d win.”

Trav tangles his fingers in his hair in a show of frustration. “How the fuck do they think the team isn’t going to know when Beau isn’t on the ice tonight? Harlson already knew. Hell, I’m the team fucking captain and they didn’t tell me first?”

“I think the reason for that is obvious,” Spencer says.

I’m leaning against the wall, listening like I’m not actually part of the conversation. I have no words. I’ve spent very little time in Chicago, so I don’t even know what to expect. As hockey players we always know the possibility of a trade is ever present, but I never saw this coming. Not now. I’m having one of my best seasons.

“Trav.” I break through his ranting about the unfairness of it all. “It’s happening and we have to deal with it.” I turn toward him and push off the wall, gripping his shoulders. “You’re gonna play your ass off tonight and not give them a reason to question you at all. You’re gonna do that for me.”

The fight drains from his face and he nods. “Okay, Beau.”

I turn to Spencer. “What do I need to know?”

An hour later, I’ve reviewed my new contract, complete with a signing bonus and an extra couple mill a year, found out my jersey number can transfer with me to Chicago, and that the first game is tomorrow night. I’ll be put up in temporary housing for now and a realtor will meet me tomorrow afternoon. As soon as I get in, I’m expected to report to the arena for a photo so it can be formally announced. And just like that, I’ll be a Husky.

I walk out of the arena in a daze, finding Trav leaning against my car in spite of the bitter cold of early December.

“You should be at home, Trav.”

“I should be wherever you are.” He pushes off the car. “Are you okay?”

“Sure.” I shake my head. “No. This sucks.”

“Big time.”

Trav’s phone rings but he ignores it while we stand in silence together. Light snow falls around us as it rings a second time.

“You need to answer it, Trav.”

He huffs then digs it out of his pocket. “Yeah?” His eyes shift to me, filling with hostility as he listens to the caller. “Seriously, Coach? Fucking hell.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be there.”

Trav ends the call without saying goodbye, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“What’s going on?”

“Meeting got called. Apparently, the rumor mill is doing its thing and Coach thinks it’ll get out about the trade. Nilsson isn’t handling it well and is posting cryptic shit on social media.”