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My mouth drops open, and I’m at a loss for words.Kicked out of the NHL? Jail time?What does that mean for Avery and Mason?
His hands steeple in front of him and his eyes narrow. “This is hockey, and we expect our players to get in fights, but we do not want players that fight so much in a game they get ejected.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But we suspect Mr. Cooper was under the influence at the game and instigated the situation between the two of you. Your reputation on and off the ice only paints you in a positive light.”
I sit up straight, my heart hammering in my chest. “Does this mean you’re not trading me?”
Gordon chuckles and passes me a stack of papers. It’s my contract renewal. “Jumping the gun a little there, Foster. We talked to your agent this morning and asked him to let us meet with you first. Did you really think I was going to let you go?”
“You’re a solid player, Mr. Craig,” Dean adds, nodding to me in agreement. Holy shit, they’re not trading me. “You’re one of the best skaters in the league, and despite your game play recently, you’re also one of the leading scorers. We need you to get to the playoffs.”
“Or you lose the team?” I snap my mouth shut and quickly glance down at the papers. What’s wrong with me? I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“Fucking Dallas.” Gordon runs a hand through his hair and down his tie. “I told Jazz hockey players gossip worse than teenagers.”
Dean smirks at Gordon. “You would know.”
“Not anymore.” He tugs at his tie, throwing Dean a droll look. “Obviously we don’t want this to be public knowledge, and we’re going to do whatever we can to ensure that it never comes to fruition. Then my dad can roll over in his grave and fuck himself.”
Ouch.
I know he’s not kidding because he jokes less than Rhett, and his hands are curled into tight fists on top of the table. So I ignore that ticking time bomb, smile at Dean, and sign my new contract.
“Thanks for meeting with us.” Dean stands and escorts me out of the conference room with one last handshake.
I’m halfway out the door when Gordon stops me. “Tell Linc if he doesn’t stop flapping his big mouth, we’ll be meeting on the ice again.”
I nod and make my exit, knowing there’s no chance he’s going to piss off his sister and risk further injury to get on the ice and punch his future brother-in-law. But I do need to find him and Tag, and you know, let them know I’m not leaving like I thought.
I may not have gotten all my sponsorships back, but I’ve now got a pretty nice five-year contract to play for the Devils. It’s what I wanted. It’s the whole reason behind all the deception.
So why does my chest still feel empty?
This is a great moment. I should be happy.
My life is exactly what I’ve always wanted. I’m not tied down to anyone. I get to stay in a city I love with a team that’s practically my surrogate family.
You don’t have Avery and Mason.
With a low growl building at the back of my throat, I round the corner by the locker room and almost run directly into Rhett.
“Craig.”
“Remington.”
He blows out a breath and runs his hand over his stubble. “You look like shit.”
I glance down at my outfit—a Devils’ tee and a pair of joggers. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“Not your outfit, you twat,” Rhett scoffs with a smirk. He’s probably pleased with himself for using his favorite British word. “Your face.”
“Really? You’re just going to steal my witty insults?” I run a hand down my offending face, a scathing remark right there on the tip of my tongue, but it dies a quick death.
He’s probably right. I’d gotten so used to sleeping next to Avery that my bed feels empty by comparison.
So instead of sleeping, I’ve been thinking about her—wondering what she’s doing, and if she’s okay. It’s my own personal hell, and I can’t seem to escape.
