Page 95 of A Whole New Trick

Cam catches my eye, lifting a brow as he bundles up his jersey into a ball and shoots it into the laundry cart.

I dip my chin to let him know I’m good, then look forward and mentally prepare what I want to say to the cagey owner.

I need to tell Vincent Jr. I’m not interested in being traded. I’ll admit I was wrong to bring it up in the first place. I’ll apologize if I have to. But I’m not letting our conversation end without making it clear that I won’t consent to a trade.

Coach Miller opens the office, which is intended for visiting coaching staff, and motions Vincent Jr. and me inside.

I walk to the other side of the room and lean my back against the wall, facing the door. Vincent Jr. positions himself just next to the entrance while Coach Miller makes himself comfortable in the office chair situated behind the metal desk in the center of the space.

“We don’t have much time until we need to head to the airport,” Coach begins, never one to beat around the bush. “How about we get this conversation rolling?”

Vincent Jr. smiles tightly. “Brash, as always, Mr. Miller.”

The seasoned coach doesn’t bat an eye. I respect him for it.

The owner hums under his breath before turning his attention to me. “Miller says you don’t want to be traded.”

I resist looking at my coach. I’m surprised to hear he spoke to the owner on my behalf, but I appreciate it. “That’s right.”

“He believes you’d retire rather than agree to a trade deal,” the billionaire presses his lips into a flat line. “Is that true?”

Again, I’m surprised Coach Miller has taken it upon himself to speak to Vincent Jr. about this subject, especially when I haven’t explicitly told him I’d stop playing hockey rather than be traded. I hadn’t wanted my drama to distract him or anyone else on the team from focusing on playoffs. But I’m glad to hear Miller is in my corner for this fight.

Again, I say, “That’s right.”

Vincent Jr. exhales a heavy breath and shakes his head condescendingly. “You know, you really put us in a bind with that mess with the trainer.”

“Yeah,” I clear my throat and swallow my pride. “Sorry about that. I’m glad things were resolved.”

“As were we, but to be frank, the organization is worried something similar might happen again in the future.”

“It won’t.”

“Yes, well, while I appreciate your words, you have to understand our concerns. If you remain on the team, we will need guarantees that this sort of thing won’t happen again.”

I feel my heart pound against my sternum. “So, there’s a chance you won’t go through with the trade?”

“Considering your willingness to leave hockey behind if we do, there doesn’t seem to be a reason to bother going through the effort. Any deal we make won’t hold if you no longer play.”

Victory swells in my chest. It deflates when he adds, “But there need to be concessions on your end before we agree to keep you on the team.”

I stiffen.

I don’t like the sound of that.

“What sort of concessions?”

Vincent Jr. tucks his hands into his pockets. “Considering the latest legal problems the organization had to deal with, it’s imperative that your relationship with your current nutritionist needs to change.”

I take a slow, measured breath before I respond, “Change? How?”

He rocks back on his heels. “Well, the easiest option would be for the relationship to end.”

My nostrils flare. “Excuse me?”

“Now, now,” Vincent says placatingly. “That is not the only option, of course. The young lady could also resign from her position. That would have the same desired effect. In fact, that might be the best option. Breakups can be a headache of their own.”

A red haze begins to creep along the edge of my vision.

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