Page 131 of On the Power Play

Jack’s lungs compressed like a luggage strap was cinched tight around his ribs. "I wish she was, too."

"Her mom will get better." Mary started to raise the glass, then paused. “Hey, Jack? I know you’re not on socials regularly, but you should probably check out Delia’s channel. You might see something you like.”

She winked as Alvin drove away from the curb, and Jack pulled out his phone. He clicked on the app, but it had to re-download since he hadn’t used it once after spending a few hours answering comments on his video the week before.

He stared at his screen, watching the download pie slice get bigger over the square icon. Jack hoped Delia's mom would recover, of course he did, but that wasn't what was giving him heart palpitations. Delia living in Toronto and him in Calgary was now the permanent state of things. Unless he got fired from the Blizzard. Or Delia dropped her contract with IndieLake, if that was even possible.

What was their plan? To keep flying out and seeing each other between games and shows? He dropped his fist against his chest. He'd spent three years on his own, but now he couldn't imagine spending a week without Delia there with him.

The download stalled, so he climbed the steps and locked up with the keys Tyler had given him, then strode to his truck. Just as the app opened, a message came through on his phone from the Blizzard's GM, Alex Renard. As if the Universe had heard his thoughts and wanted to pile on.

Jack. Meet me in my office at 4:30

Chapter Thirty-One

Jack walked into the same office he'd stood in at the end of February when the Blizzard had offered him a spot on the team. When Alex told him about Beefus being injured. Then again when he'd been summoned by Alex and Lisa about the publicity surrounding Delia. Both of those meetings had left him feeling like he'd just eaten a Pizza Pop. Sweaty and conflicted.

"Jack, have a seat." Alex motioned to a leather chair in front of his desk, and when Jack walked in, he realized they weren't alone. Coach Novak and Kreviasuk were both already seated. Jack's stomach dropped like a lead brick. He'd gone too far. He'd overstepped again, and this time they didn't have to keep him on the roster for pretense.

He did as he was told and sat, his palms already cold and clammy. It was fine. He'd gotten to play in the NHL, something he never thought would happen. He'd scored two goals on the biggest ice in the world, and unlike the other night in the hotel with Delia, he didn't need it to last longer. He could go back to Big Rick or find a new job if they wouldn't have him. He'd work his way up, and . . .

His thoughts petered out. He didn't want to sit at home on his computer. He didn't want a desk job. He wanted to play hockey, and his attempts to find silver linings couldn't distract him from that fact.

"How have you liked playing on the team?" Alex sat behind the desk and pulled back a ball on his Newton's Cradle to send it ticking.

Jack swallowed. "It's been a dream come true." That wasn't an understatement. Even though he hadn't meshed immediately with the guys, he'd lived for practice and games the past two months. Now that he had a good thing growing with the other players, the energy between them on the ice was even more addictive.

"Well, you've certainly exceeded our expectations on and off the ice. It's not a typical occurrence to have a player going viral online for something we can applaud."

Jack chuckled. That was the truth. The last two massive hockey stories he'd heard were a sexual assault accusation and a racist statement given during a press conference. "It's been an honour representing this team. You've got a good group of guys. Good coaches, and I'm just grateful?—"

Alex held up a hand and stopped him. "That sounds a hell of a lot like an exit speech." He looked to Novak, then back to Jack. "Do you think we're firing you?"

Jack's breath caught in his throat. "I assumed. Given that Beefus is back soon, and—" And the recent conversation where I told my coaches their strategy wasn't working. "My age."

Alex laughed. "Jack, your age has nothing to do with anything. I saw your physical results. You're healthy. Probably healthier than most players I've seen who are five years younger. You haven't even had a blown-out knee yet."

At least he had one thing to be grateful for after sitting on the bench with the Admirals. Less wear and tear. "I feel good."

"Glad to hear it because we'd like to offer you a spot. Not right winger because as you mentioned, Beefus is back. But . . ." He tapped his fingers on the desk. "We recently had a spot open up on the left."

Left winger. That was Gaudreau's position. And Liam MacDonald's.

Which meant they hadn't listened to him. He'd told Novak and Kreviasuk that Liam needed to feel a part of something, to feel wanted, and here they were kicking him to the curb right when he was finally taking steps to get better. It was short-sighted, and Jack couldn't in good conscience take his place. But was this the hill he was going to die on? Would he give up a permanent spot on the roster to prove his point?

Jack's heart started to sprint as he turned to his coaches. "I know you might not think I know what I'm talking about, but the kid just needs more time."

Coach Novak frowned. "Who needs more time?"

Jack threw out his hands. "MacDonald. If you cut him out now, he?—"

"Harrison, we're not cutting MacDonald." Novak opened his mouth to say more but stopped and looked at Alex.

Alex nodded. "It's fine, you can tell him. But this doesn't leave the room."

Jack gripped the arms of his chair as Coach Novak started to talk. "Gaudreau's played with us for almost six years. He's the glue on this team, as you know. He and his wife just found out their four-year-old daughter has leukemia."

Air rushed out of Jack's lungs like he'd pulled the plug on an air mattress.

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