Page 25 of Power Move
“That’s bad.”
“And traded.”
The buzzing of a million bees swarms my head and my pulse pounds against my temples. “That’s really bad.”
His lips pinching, he flicks a finger over the screen. “There’s no basis for any of this. You’re up with us, and you’re playing great hockey.”
I rub my hands over my arms, but can’t quell the discomfort itching beneath my skin. “Uh huh.”
“This could just be someone in the chat trying to cause drama, or because they’re bored. Or jealous. I haven’t heard anything at all anywhere else. Have you?”
“No. But surprises happen. Just because my name’s not been lumped in with the other players potentially on the move doesn’t make me safe.”
“I know that. But would any oftheseguys really have inside information? No. Not a chance.”
“It’s still scary to think about, though. When you’re in the minors, you’re so focused on working hard to get the call up. And then when you do, you have to worry about everyone below you wanting to take that spot away from you.” The Metros players who are doing conditioning assignments, and the ones sent down yesterday, and other Slash players flit through my mind.
He hugs me closer. “Well, as long as I’m here, they can’t have you.”
I laugh, but it sounds hollow. “We both know that’s not how it works. To stay up here, I have to keep scoring. Keep being productive. There’s so much pressure. If I have one bad game, that could be enough to send me down.”
“Sage.” Rhys tips my chin up, then the backs of his fingers caress my cheek. The touch is so soothing, feels so caring, my chest aches at the sweetness of it. “It’s okay.”
I drop my gaze to his chest and the intricate pattern woven into the chunky knit. “I don’t want to go down. Not when coming back up can be so hard.”
“I remember those days.” Strong, warm fingers massage the back of my neck.
My skin feels too tight. And hot. Like the air is compressing me.
He turns me so we’re face to face, chest to chest, and cups his hands over my shoulders. Squeezing them. Blue eyes burning with intensity stare into mine. “Even if you do get sent down again, you’ll get another chance. You’ve already proven yourself.”
“Gio and Phil have played games here and there with the big clubs over the years, but they’ve primarily stayed as career PHL players. They’re older than you. Who says that won’t happen to me too?”
“You’re what, twenty-four?”
I nod. “I feel like now’s my opportunity, and I also feel like there’s so many guys gunning for me to fail.”
“And a bunch of other people pulling for you to succeed.” He touches his forehead to mine. “Especially me.”
His support means everything. My fingers curl into his sweater. I don’t want to let go. “Rhys.”
“I have you.” His beard tickles my chin as his soft lips meet mine. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
The music fades away. As Rhys and I separate, noise comes from the band setting up at a small stage in the rear of the shop. I smooth my hands over his sides. “I warned you I was an anxious mess.”
“You’re fine. I know the worrying happens, but I hope you’re able to enjoy the time you’re spending with the Metros. I know I am.” The twinkle in his eyes increases with his smile.
Leaning in, I kiss his jaw. “As much as I worry, I’m loving it.”
My phone buzzes. Worried that it might be the team or my agent with news I really don’t want, I keep an arm around Rhys and tap on the screen. “It’s texts from Morgan and Remy.”
I angle the phone so we can read them together.
Morgan: If you look in the Slash chat, just know people are talking out of their asses. Ignore it all.
Remy: I’m sitting with Morgan. Saw the Slash chat. Jealous fuckers, every one of them. Love you, bro.
Rhys grins then kisses the top of my head. “Morgan and Remy are right.”
