I don’t take as high of a cut as other agents do because I’m not doing it for the money. I’m doing it for the well-being of my players. And I know it’s ironic because I bet if guys like Landon knew the state of my own mental health, they wouldn’t be so eager to sign with me. But I’ve perfected the art of hiding and wearing confidence like a mask because I won’t be a burden to them.
We hang up with the promise of keeping in touch. I rest my head back against the cushions and close my eyes. Today’s pain is worse than my baseline chronic pain. I knew from the minute I woke up that it would be a write-off. I’ve ended up rearranging my appointment with Roberta and had to reschedule a business trip to Seattle because there’s no way I can get on a plane and face people like this. Even wobbling the short distance from my bedroom to the living room was excruciating. I’ve spent the morning switching between doing some emails and snoozing on the couch to the sound of the waves outside while waiting for my pain relief to kick in.
I must end up drifting off again because I wake with a start when my phone vibrates on the coffee table. Stretching over, I glance at the caller ID, then prop myself up on my elbow.
Jackson.
We’ve been talking daily since that night at Peyton’s party. I’ve been keeping to my morning texts that consist of a photo of the ocean and a random fact about jellyfish, but other than that, I’ve been letting Jackson take the reins. The number of texts and calls has gradually increased, and since his game in Dallas, he’s been more… flirtatious. Not that I’m complaining. Not one bit. Hell, I’m happy with any kind ofattention from Jackson, but knowing he’s attracted to me, again, it’s a high I never want to come down from.
I quickly answer and bring my phone to my ear. “Hey, Jax. What’s up?”
“Hey, I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this… I just…” He trails off and makes a frustrated noise. I’m instantly on high alert at how off he’s sounding. “I needed to talk to you. I’m having a shit day.”
“You know you can call me at any time. What’s going on? Why are you having a shit day?”
“Both of the kids woke up with a fever, and it seems they’ve caught some kind of bug. I skipped out on practice this morning so I could stay at home with them, but I’ve just spoken to my mom, and it seems whatever the kids have, they’ve passed it on to my parents too.” He sighs dejectedly. “I’ve got a game tonight, Cas, and I think I’m gonna have to call Coach and put me as a scratch.”
Ah, shit. It sucks being a healthy scratch. It’s not a fun feeling knowing you’re not going to be dressing for the game, so I can understand Jackson’s worries about it. I’ve seen guys spiral downward after being scratched, and sure, it wasn’t for the same reasons as Jackson. It can be for roster management, or it can be strategic, but it still has implications on an athlete’s mindset. It can take its toll on you mentally, knowing you’re capable of playing, but you’re unable to contribute.
“What about your sister? Is she around?”
“No, she’s out of town. Fuck,” he curses. “I’ve never had to do this before, but I can’t leave my kids, Cas.”
The panic in his voice has me getting to my feet. I’ve never heard him sound like this before, and the need to helpoutweighs my need to look after myself. I wince as pain ricochets through my body. But I push it down and try to ignore it. I head into my bedroom and glance at the clock on my bedside table. I work out in my head how long he has between now and the latest he needs to leave for the arena for the game. “Okay, you’ve got like… sixish hours, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you eaten anything yet?”
“No.”
I chuckle under my breath and fetch my duffel from the closet. “Okay, so first of all, you need to eat something, Jax. Then, go check on the kids and take a nap. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.”
He makes another noise that sounds a lot like he’s groaning into his hand. “Normally I’d ask Ethan or Jacob to help me out, but Ethan has his pre-op today, and I don’t want to risk him getting sick.”
“Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Knee, right?”
“Yeah, I think Jacob’s more worried than he is.”
I smile at that. Jacob has one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met. He’s the complete opposite of Ethan, who’s gruff and grumpy, but they fit each other perfectly.
“I’ll bet.” I throw clothes into my bag, along with my shaving kit and medication. Once everything is packed, I zip it up and head to my closet to grab a change of clothes. “So, I’m gonna make some calls while you go get something to eat and take a nap. We’ll speak in a few hours.”
There’s a long pause, and when he finally speaks again, gratitude is palpable in his voice. “Thank you, Cas. You still have the ability to stop me from getting stressed-out.”
A grin spreads across my face. “Don’t thank me just yet.”
He ends the call, and I change into jeans and a hoodie. I grab my laptop from the living room, putting it in my bag before going around and locking up the house.
Then, I’m dialing the number to the private jet company I use as the door closes behind me.
Chapter Thirteen
Jackson
I have to be at the arena in an hour, and I feel like shit. I haven’t caught whatever bug the kids have come down with, but I am fucking tired. After I spoke with Hayden, I only managed to nap for forty-five minutes instead of my preferred ninety, and the stress of the day is starting to catch up with me. My neck and shoulders are stiff, and I’m pretty sure I’m dehydrated. If there was a recipe for how not to prepare yourself to play a game of professional hockey, this would be it.
Yawning, I head into the kitchen and begin to mix up some electrolytes. I guzzle down half when there’s a knock at the door, and Isabela picks that moment to cry out for me.