Page 93 of Not A Chance

“Fair enough, Yao.” Campbell reached out and grabbed my shoulder, offering a quick squeeze through the thick padding of my winter jacket. “See ya tomorrow.”

I briefly watched him jog back to the rest of the group before I resumed my walk to my truck.

My phone buzzed in my inner coat pocket—I’d long stopped carrying it in the back pocket of my jeans during Canadian winters—and I unzipped my jacket so fast I was surprised the lining didn’t tear.

“Hello?” The anticipation of hearing Indie on the other end of the line had me panting slightly.

“Theo.” My stomach plummeted with disappointment when I heard my agent’s voice.

“Ray. Happy New Year,” I said, just to be polite. He couldn’t have caught me at a worse moment.

“Same to you, Theo. Listen. Tough loss last night—not a nice way to start the new year for sure. I’m sure you’re already gearing up for tomorrow’s game, and I hate to put this on you now, but…” His words dropped off.

A few beats of silence followed. I waited, not interested in making small talk.

When it became clear he was waiting for me to ask him what he was referring to, I ground out a low “What is it, Ray?” to prompt him to get to the point.

“You know you’re in Toronto for a year, Theo. We talked about it being a transition year, where you considered youroptions.” Options was a code word for how fucked-up my knees were at any given time. “But I haven’t heard any feedback from you on the new team other than when you first got there.”

“It’s fine,” I offered, not able to get into the specifics of my experience with the Tempests right now.

“Right.” He let my nonanswer go for the moment. “Well, we’re only a couple months away from the trade deadline, and we need to strategize next steps, Theo. You know how it goes. There are already some whispers and some outright discussions going already.”

He dropped his volume by half. “In fact, Florida’s management got in touch with me about a five-year, eighteen-million-dollar contract with a no-trade clause. They have a young team, and they see you as the future captain they need to turn their guys into playoff contenders.” After knowing Ray for almost fifteen years, I could easily detect the pride in his voice. He thought he was bringing me something extraordinary.

To be fair, at thirty-one, being offered a contract most often offered to twenty-five-year-olds in their prime was an astoundingly great offer.

“Let me guess. They want to know if I’m interested right away. ‘Off the record,’ of course. How long do I have to think about it?”

The thought of having to decide my future in the league, at this moment, sat like an anvil in my gut.

“Think about it, Theo?” Ray’s voice bristled with impatience. “It’s not going to get better than this. In fact, I’d say it’s going to get a lot worse. With your age and, uh, other factors at play, you could see your last years in professional hockey bouncing from one team to another, each less money than the last. What is there to even think about?”

My family. My health. And most importantly, Indie.

There was a lot to consider, but I wasn’t capable of explaining any of that to Ray at the moment.

“Let me get back to you, Ray. Give me a couple days.” As much as I didn’t want to sour the potential relationship with a new team, I couldn’t give him the answer on the spot like I’d been able to do so many times over the years.

“Fine. Theo. I’ll hold them off for three days. If I don’t give them something positive to take to head office for the salary cap planning, they’re going to move on.” I respected that he didn’t try to push me further right now.

“Got it, Ray. Three days.” I disconnected the call as I reached my truck. I unlocked the doors and got in, immediately leaning back onto the headrest. With my eyes closed, I tried to separate all the conflicting interests, of which joining a team in Florida was no small part.

Five more years just about as far across the country from Indie as I could get.

Fuck.

“You really pulled out all the stops tonight, Yao.” Our captain held out his fist to congratulate me on a couple of tricky saves that had helped us redeem ourselves after losing the first game of the new year.

“Nah. Team effort. You know that.” Sure, I’d worked harder this game than any I’d played all season, but that was because it’d been a monumental struggle to keep my focus on the ice.

“Aw, our darling goalie is so modest, isn’t he, cap’n?” Campbell, who had the talent of being in everyone’s face at any given time, wrapped his sweaty arm around an equally sweaty Michaels and batted his eyelashes innocently. “I’m about to cry or swoon. I can’t tell which.” He let out an overdramatic sigh.

“How about you shower instead, eh? You stink.” Michaels elbowed his alternate captain straight in the gut, with affection.

“That is the aroma of the highest scorer in the game.” Campbell added some extra Southern drawl to his normally much softer accent and stuck his nose up in the air like an affronted gentleman.

“Mmmhmm. Right. Let’s leave Yao to it. You coming out tonight, old man?” Michaels’s eyes glittered with amusement.

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