Page 6 of His Jersey

A holdover habit from McAden’s days, I await orders. However, I don’t want to obey Remy. I’m not interested in sitting even though my feet are tired from hours on the ice. I fear whatever he’s about to say requires me to be standing at attention.

He leans back and says, “It was quite a game we had out there with the Thunder.”

I squint because I don’t catch his drift. “It was a game all right.”

“I know you’ve had a rough week.”

“Sure have.”

I award him a D+ for his breaking-the-ice opener.

“You’ve been with the Storm for how many years now?”

Those knots in my stomach tighten. “Almost a decade.”

“Any thoughts on what you want to do when you retire? Big plans?”

I shake my head slowly because the “R” word only applies to other people. I’m still young—just thirty, as Gunther pointed out. “I have a lot more games in me.”

“Not if you keep playing like a rookie.” Remy’s face instantly turns red as if embarrassed that he spoke out of turn.

My jaw tightens and the muscles tick. But he’s not wrong.

Hand waving in the air, Remy says, “It’s just that changes are coming.”

“Are you referring to my contract?”

“The no-trade clause expires, and we have to keep things moving in a winning direction. Hit the playoffs hard.”

“When have I ever done anything else?” My arms slide across my chest because of where this conversation sounds like it’s going.

A bead of sweat appears on Remy’s upper lip. I arch aneyebrow, indicating he cut to the chase, as he discretely wipes it away.

“We have a reputation and so do you, I’m afraid,” he says, as if instantly regretting it. Probably sounded better when he practiced in the mirror.

“My reputation? What’s that supposed to mean?” I won’t cede an inch of territory or let on that my worst fear is about to come true.

“With women, mostly. The partying, too.”

“When has that ever been a problem?” I’m no different than any of the other guys on the team, other than the fact that I have more resources to fund the fun.

He shifts his weight and the chair squeaks again. “Thing is, I’ve been met with a situation. You’re a soon-to-be free agent. Tommy Badaszek offered to trade one of their centers—Kevin Haberssen—for you.”

I grit my teeth. “I’ve been loyal to this team for a long time.”

“Yes, but times change, lineups rearrange, and?—”

“And this is absolute trash.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m afraid it’s reality. The first option that was presented was for you to retire. I did my best to offer an alternative because I agree that you have some more games in you.”

I notice he didn’t saygoodgames. A cool sweat works its way over my skin and my stomach feels like an empty pit. Does that mean someone in the Carolina Storm organization suggested I retire and the Knights’ coach made an offer to keep me in the NHL?

I ask, “Where’s this coming from? It can’t be just due to my recent performance. My cumulative stats are still well above my peers.” I would never have spoken to McAden this way. But there’s something shifty about Remy that makes me push him for more information.

“It was suggested that it’s time for you to retire.” He looks at his hands as if stopping himself from saying more.

“Last I checked, that’s up to me.” Though my father would disagree.

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