Page 89 of Home Ice

She gives me a playful shove and then flips me off as she walks toward the training room.

When I get to his office, Coach motions me toward one of the battered old chairs in front of his desk, and my worry goes to an eleven. Coach never has anyone sit unless he's trying to soften his news. "You know you have the third highest quality start percentage in the League, right?"

I know I've been having a great season, one that feels even better than the last time I won the Vezina Trophy, but I stopped tracking my advanced stats after my rookie year.

"And the best high-danger save percentage," he continues. "You're four spots higher than Lundgren on both of those."

"Okay? Did you call me in here to give me a pat on the back? Because the season is a long way from over, and Milo might edge me out on both before it's finished." Hell, I'm surprised he hasn't already. I was jealous when Lily nicknamed him Spider, but I see why she did. He might not have the experience I do, but in a couple of years, he'll be able to do things I've only ever dreamed of. As long as he stays healthy, the voice in the back of my mind calls out. Wait. Milo was the person missing from the dressing room. "Did something happen? Is Milo injured?"

"No. And you better hope Lundgren doesn't pass your stats. Front office traded him this morning."

"What? You're joking."

Coach shakes his head. "It's not a secret we need more offense from our second line. And management thought you were doing well enough that we didn't need to split the net duties anymore. Hope you're as ready to shoulder the load as we all think you are."

I bristle that he might even have a doubt about it. Until this year, I've been the first-string goalie on every team since I was twelve. But trading Milo? When we're the best net minder combo in the League? I know this is a business, but losing him still feels like a punch to the gut. No wonder the boys all seemed so deflated this morning. "Who did they trade him for? What team is he going to?" There are only a couple forwards that are even remotely close to the value of Milo Lundgren.

"Fucking stupid number punchers," Coach mutters under his breath. "Neumann."

"Jonas Neumann?" That can't be right. There must be some other Neumann I'm not thinking of.

"That's the one," he answers. "Hell of a fucking player. Almost as good as Bouchard."

I'm definitely not going to tell Kayden that Coach said that. "But he plays for?—"

"Denver. He did until this morning."

My jaw drops. We traded one of the best goaltenders in the League to our rivals? Our rivals who are battling us for a playoff position?

CHAPTER 55

I'M READY

LILY

Even a day later, I still can't believe it. The Lightning traded a few players when I was with the team, but they were backup outfielders and relief pitchers. Not major parts of the team the way Milo is. Was. Of course, I wasn't as close to that team as I am to this one. This team feels like family.

I suppose Brant and I should be happy about the trade. All season long, even before that, Brant has been out to prove that he's just as good as he was before he tore his ACL. Yesterday morning, the team just put a huge job-well-done gold star on that effort. By rights, we should have celebrated last night. Dinner, drinks, maybe finally being with each other afterward. But we barely even spoke. When I finished my work after practice, Brant was waiting for me, leaning against the side of his car. I asked him about the trade, and he just shrugged. "Part of the job," he told me. The same thing every Sting player had said about it all morning. Just like them, he had that same shell-shocked look on his face as he said it.

They're still sluggish at practice the next day. Ideally, I'd wait for a better day, but Bridges can't wait. After practice, I walk into the dressing room. Everyone quiets as I stand in the center. "I have a huge favor to ask from all of you." I wring my hands. I really hate asking people for anything.

"What did Branny do, and what do you want us to do to him?" Nikita stands and looks around for Brant who, thankfully, is still on the ice working with the goaltending coach for an extended practice.

I fight back my smile. Definitely family. "You might not know, but there's a homeless shelter for teens here in Salt Lake." I don't tell them it's for LGBTQ teens. I'm lucky that I started hormones early, so no one would really guess that I'm trans, but I'm still afraid to put myself too close to the LGBTQ world in case it might make someone suspicious about me. It's silly with these guys. I know they wouldn't care, and I wouldn't mind if they knew the truth. But it's a habit at this point. And it's not just my secret now. "Brant and I have been there a couple of times and seen it firsthand. They do really good work, but they're in trouble and need money. I thought it would be nice if some of you could donate things for them to auction off? Just small things. Maybe like gloves you don't wear anymore? I already cleared it with the front office."

"Here." Sammy slides his skates over to me. "My favorite pair."

"Sammy, you can't give?—"

"What about jerseys?" Nikita peels off his sweat-stained practice jersey and tosses it on Sammy's skates. "We'll all do our game jerseys from tomorrow's game too, yes?" He looks around the room, and everyone nods.

Even Neumann, the new guy, tosses his stick in. "Someone put double-sided tape on the grip this morning, so be careful when you pick it up." Based on the snickering behind me, that someone was Sammy.

"You don't have to ask me twice. I'm in." Kayden stands and moves toward the center of the room. "I should be worth at least thirty-thousand for them." I'm so glad Brant warned me in advance about this one.

"They will use American dollars. Not Japanese yen, Mr. Dragon Heart." Nikita says as he throws an empty roll of tape at Kayden.

"I swear that's really what the sign says. It's not my fault your translation app was wrong."

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