Page 3 of Playoff
He shoved my comments aside and focused on selling what he’d done. "Actually, this trade should work for you. A team with a good chance of making the playoffs."
"Sounds like a nice change." I showed my teeth in an imitation of a smile. LA had only made the playoffs once while I was here and had been eliminated in the first round. He didn't like that, but I had no reason to kiss his ass anymore.
He leaned back in his chair, fiddling with a pen he’d picked up from his desk. "One of the two final teams from the last playoffs."
Minnesota and Toronto. And fuck, if it was Minnesota, he be saying the champions. Toronto was among the last teams I'd want to play on. Cold and Canada. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. I kept my face impassive.
"You're going back to Canada. The Toronto Blaze."
It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Their first line winger had gone down last month. They’d been struggling this year but had finally started to turn things around. Seemed their team management hadn't given up on the season yet.
He picked up a folder and slid it across the desk. "Here's the information on your flight, hotel, etc. We're keeping it quiet till Coach is back, so don't post on social media or speak to the press until we release the news. Angelina is forwarding everything to your email as well. She'll arrange to get your things packed and sent on."
I stood. He didn't offer to shake my hand.
I turned and prepared for life in Canada. Again.
Chapter 2
There's a trade?
Jess
* * *
I came to the Top Shelf tonight because of the PAC. I’d planned to join them at the bar after the hockey game, since I needed to get caught up on my book club reading and I only went to games occasionally.
When it was time to go, I’d been tempted to cancel, because it had been an epically bad day and I didn’t feel like being social. I wanted to huddle up in my bedroom and shut my brain off. I was partway through this month’s reading selection, but tonight I’d take a thriller. Or maybe a paranormal romance. Something as far away from my regular life as possible.
But the PAC—Player Adjacent Club—was different. This was a group of women who were connected to hockey players, but not the usual WAGs. They’d become my closest friends in the city. For them, I'd bundle up against the cold Toronto January winds and trudge to the bar with my happy face on.
The players the club referred to were hockey players on the Toronto Blaze, one of two NHL teams in the city. I was adjacent because my twin brother played on the team, not my romantic partner. Justin and I shared a condo and spent as much time together as wives and girlfriends did, but sisters weren't usually considered as important to a player. Except for the PAC.
The PAC was new—it had started earlier this season when two of the players’ girlfriends, Jayna and Callie, had invited Katie, studying post-graduate math, to join them as nontraditional WAGs. They’d thought she was dating Ducky, one of the team’s top forwards, but at that point they were only friends. I appreciated their loyalty, since I was the only non-girlfriend in the group now. Plus, they were terrific women.
I'd moved to Toronto after Justin was traded here. He'd been through a lot in New York before the trade, and I’d just finished my degree at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia. After his sacrifices for the family, totally unappreciated by our parents, I wanted to provide him support. My twin was a social turtle, even more so after all that had happened, and I’d intended to coax him out of his shell.
Five years later, we were still roommates, his social life consisted of me and his teammates, and he still spent most of his time in that shell. I sometimes wondered if I was helping him or enabling him, but I couldn’t discuss it with anyone because I couldn't share his secrets. Last fall, when the team was in the finals, I'd hoped that winning the Cup would maybe give him the boost he needed to become the guy he used to be. But the Blaze lost. The team, including Justin, still wasn't over that.
Problem for the future—I had enough for today. I climbed up the steps from the subway and huddled into my coat as I walked toward the bar.
Once I stepped inside, into the warmth and out of the biting wind, I found Katie and Ducky sitting at the back, at the tables the players normally occupied
Ducky had injured his knee last month, needing surgery. He wouldn't be playing again this season. He insisted that made him player adjacent and qualified him for the club. Somehow we'd swallowed that argument and let him hang out with us. Sometimes.
I stopped at the bar to ask for a glass of wine, and checked the time. We had an hour or so before the game ended and the rest of the team would show up. Then the bar would be packed and we’d have steady table service. I brought my wine over and sat by Katie. "Hey, you two. How was class?" She'd been teaching tonight, which was why she hadn’t attended the game in person.
She rolled her eyes. "Don’t ask. I get it—it's a general requirement course and these kids aren't math majors. But they should suck it up and not take it out on me."
Ducky tightened his arm around her shoulders.
"You didn't go to the game?" I asked him.
He looked down at the table, where underneath his leg was in a brace. "It's hard."
I nodded in sympathy. It wasn’t just the crutches. Ducky had been our top scorer before he was injured. Watching the team struggle while he felt guilty that he wasn't helping had to be tough. I was the same with my twin, when he was suffering and I could only watch.
Before I had a chance to share about my shitty day, Jayna and Callie arrived. Callie sat across from me. Katie was a little younger, but Callie was about my age, with bright red hair and freckles. She was dating Cooper, captain of the team.
