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A welcomed relief came through as a text on my phone.
From Bethany.
A reminder from her that sometimes she even worked late too.
She forwarded me some confidential information meant only for my eyes.
Her words, not mine.
I opened the email correspondence and gasped.
Long story short, I had been toying with the idea of getting into sports psychology and had a fleeting idea or dream of being part of a team.
For the experience.And the money.
It seemed my lucky break had just come through.
From the ownership of theSOLA Empire.
Through their proper channels - legal, medical, etc. - I was going to get the opportunity to work with players.
More specifically in this case - one player.
I wasn’t a big fan of hockey.
I didn’t follow the sport, the teams, or the players.
In fact, there was only one hockey player I knew by name.
And as fate or luckor a fucking nightmarewould have it, I was staring at that name.
Joe.
My big…
Well, not my Joe.
The Joe I used to know.
The Joe I used to love.
The Joe…
I put my phone down and shook my head.
There was no way.
It was an ethical thing.
A moral thing.
A past thing that needed to stay in the past.
I kept shaking my head.
There was absolutely no chance in hell…
I bit my lip for a second and thought about it.
