Page 32 of Scoring Lessons

With a deep breath, I clicked on the call button and placed the phone in my cup holder as I drove off before any of my teammates could filter through the exit door.

“How’s my favorite player doing?” Michael asked as a way of greeting.

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t particularly love my agent, but I didn’t have the time to stress about finding another one. I had to work with what I had. He may have been a sleazy bastard sometimes, but he was the only person who I had in my corner—even if it was only because I was one big shiny dollar sign for him.

“I’ll be better once you tell me the good news.” My heart was ready to take flight with the amount of hope surging through me.

Had he heard back from the team?

Were they ready to negotiate?

God, I hoped they were, though there wasn’t much to negotiate in the first place. But as long as they were open, that alone was capable of making my spirits lift.

“If you’re expecting news from the Strikers, you’re in for a world of disappointment, buddy.” His tone was so casual, like we weren’t discussing my future. “But it seems Vancouver is sniffing around for a new left winger, since one of theirs is retiring once the season ends.”

I let out a shaky sigh. I mean, the Vancouver Sharks were a solid choice. They’d been rebuilding it for a few years now, and they were becoming a team the rest of the conference needed to start worrying about.

“I think they will be willing to pay a pretty penny for you,” he added, his tone a bit more excited.

I understood my agent needed to make a commission, but I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the amount of money they’d be willing to pay. They weren’t the team I wanted to stay with.

“Wait.” I frowned. “Did they contact you directly?”

“Not exactly,” he sighed.

“What the fuck did you do?” I snapped. There was no way he dared to risk it all by tampering. Michael may have been a greedy motherfucker, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Relax, kid. When I found out they were looking for someone, I asked the Strikers for permission to talk to other teams.”

I stayed silent for a few beats as I parked my car in the garage of my apartment building. Every gulp I tried to take was more painful than the last. I couldn’t move. Every limb of my body felt like it weighed a ton. My heart contracted in my chest painfully, and I rubbed a few circles, hoping the pain would ease.

This…was not good. If Anthony—the Strikers’ General Manager—gave him written permission to speak with other teams, it meant they didn’t want to extend my contract. They wouldn’t risk letting another team get in the way of negotiating with my agent.

Fuck. This was worse than I thought. And it wasn’t like I could even blame them. This was solely my fault. I wasn’t pushing myself hard enough, and now I was going to be paying the consequences because of it.

I was tired of losing, of starting over.

Maybe it’s time to retire, my brain whispered.

My chest inflated with panic at the thought. I didn’t want to retire. I still had a few years left in me. This was my childhood dream we were talking about. I wasn’t ready to throw it all away.

“I’ll see what numbers they come up with and get back to you,” Michael added to break the awkward silence.

I scrubbed my face in frustration. “I’m tired of repeating myself, Michael. The Strikers are my priority. I don’t care if Vancouver comes with some grand number. I want you to focus on getting my contract extended.”

I knew that if I could continue to prove myself, there was a chance. The season was about to start. I had until July to make my case. I needed to show the team why I was the player they needed. To remind them that I had some fight left in me. My experience had to count for at least something, right?

I was clinging to any excuse I could find not to give up.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Hayes, I understand you don’t want to uproot your life, but you need to go where the money is. You’re not the first player to do this, and you won’t be the last.”

I grabbed my phone as I turned off the car and stepped out, shutting the door with more force than necessary. “I don’t care about the money.”

“You need to start caring, because this is your future on the line. I’ll get back to you with some numbers, and we’ll talk then.” He hung up on me before I could give him what was sure to be an angry reply.

My nostrils flared in annoyance as the elevator doors opened. The back of my head met the mirrored wall of the space as I inhaled a deep breath, urging my body to calm down.

When I entered my apartment, Olivia’s golden retriever, Daisy, welcomed me. Her tongue was hanging as she panted and wagged her tail excitedly.