Page 28 of Hot Puck
“How?”
“They don’t tease me or pull pranks like they used to.” He stares at the bowl in my hand. “Actually, I think the change started before…”
I nod. I know what he’s referring to and I have no desire to make him elaborate. “That’s understandable.”
“Yeah. I guess. We’re all different now. Well, except Candace.”
I offer him a smile. “Want to eat while I tell you about the Rogues’ offer?”
He leans his hip against the counter and finally takes the bowl from me. “Sure.”
“I’ve set us up in the dining room.” I don’t miss the color change in his eyes; they go from warm blue to a gloomy blue gray. “Is that okay? I can move everything in here.”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s okay. We just haven’t eaten in there since Mom and Dad.”
I should have waited. Should have asked where he wanted?—
“We always ate at the table.” His gaze moves in the direction of the dining room and the table neither of us can see through the wall. “Always. No matter who was here. Or who wasn’t. Mom never served a meal anywhere else.”
“You haven’t…”
“No. I’ve fed us here. In the kitchen. At the island.”
His gaze is unfocused, and I wonder if he’s remembering those meals or the ones his mother set out in the other room.
“We should eat in there again.” His words are strong, confident, as he pushes off the counter and walks away. When he reaches the doorway, he glances back. “All right, GM, let’s see what you’ve got.”
He’s got an almost cheeky tilt to his mouth and his eyes are alive with a light I haven’t seen in the hours since he opened the door to me. He might not have woken in the right frame of mind, but it looks like he’s found it now.
I follow, because there’s nothing else I can do. I normally lead meetings, especially in the male-dominated industry of professional hockey, but with a few words and a smirk, Chase Hawkins has snatched control.
And I can’t say I’m pissed about it.
He needs to feel in control of something. His life has been a runaway train for months now, and I’m okay with letting him lead this.
When we’ve taken a seat next to each other he glances at me with an arched brow, and I laugh. He’s so different when he’s confident. I don’t know what triggered the change from the struggling man I’ve spent the day helping, but I like it.
“Okay, so you know the basics. I’m the general manager of the Rogues and I would normally do this with an agent present, but in light of recent events, I didn’t want to involve a third party before you had time to process what’s on offer.”
“Appreciate it.” He forks a mouthful of salad from his bowl. He waits for me to speak again before eating.
“We’re offering you starting goalie. We can talk money and other compensations if you want to consider the contract. Right now, I just want you to think about considering it.”
He chews slowly, his eyes on me until he swallows. He doesn’t break the connection even when he grabs his bottle of water and cracks it open.
“Do you have an agent?” I ask to break the unnerving silence.
“No.”
“You had to have been looking at one in the last few years.”
“They were looking at me. I wasn’t interested. I’ve got another year of college left and I promised my parents I wouldn’t go pro before I finished my degree.”
“And now?”
“Now I can’t finish my degree. Not full-time and I’m not interested in doing it part-time. Dragging it out doesn’t appeal at all.”
“Okay. So how do you feel about going professional without a degree behind you?”
