Page 38 of His Jersey

“She’s joking.”

We all laugh lightly and then get underway.

“Do you want truth serum because there’s somethingyou’renot telling me?” I ask.

“Or something you’re not telling me. It can’t be as simple as you only wanting me to wear your jersey.”

As the plane taxis onto the runway, I consider how much to share. No one, not even my inner circle, knows about the conversation Remy and I had after the last game. At least I don’t think so. Then again, my father was aware of it.

I say, “I’m at a career crossroads.”

“I know the feeling.”

I explain how I’ve been with the Carolina Storm for nearly a decade and my coach gave me an ultimatum: retire or get traded to the Nebraska Knights.

“From what you’ve said about being a billionaire’s son, money may not be an issue, but aren’t you a little young to retire?”

I take it she doesn’t know a lot about hockey. Maybe later I’ll be able to give her a crash course.

“Also, why does he want to get rid of you if you usually win? Doesn’t that make you an asset to the team?” Ella is smart, sharp.

“I’ve been trying to puzzle that out and have a few theories.” I tell her I’m one of the highest earners in the league and they’d be able to get a couple of new guys in exchange for my salary.

“But those guys aren’t sure bets if they’re newer.”

I nod and add, “There are also politics in the sport, youmight say. Like maybe my coach owes someone a favor and I’m being ousted because of that.” Could have something to do with the owners. Could go all the way to the top, for all I know.

“But you could still play if you go to the Nebraska team, right?”

I rub my hand down my face because I didn’t let myself think much about this situation while on the island. Back on the plane headed west, I can’t help but obsess.

“Are they any good?” she asks.

“Our biggest rival.”

“Would the other guys on the team give you a hard time as the newbie?” she asks, likely referring to the pecking order she described at the resort.

“No, for two reasons. Teams can’t function well that way and we all have the same goal: the Stanley.”

She frowns. “Like the water bottle brand?”

I chuckle. “No. The Stanley Cup.”

“An old man’s mug?”

“No, a cup. Also, I have an uncle named Stanley. What makes you think it’s an old man’s name?”

“Is he young?” she counters.

I chuckle because he’s not. “That’s the trophy that the winning team in the league gets after a series of playoffs. In other words, only the best get it.”

“I don’t get the big deal about a cup, but okay. Go on.”

“It’s a really big cup.”

Her smile edges with laughter. “So why not give this new team in Nebraska a shot?”

“Because it would mean change and I will likely be retiring sooner rather than later.”

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