Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
McCabe
W hen I wake up, AJ’s not in my bed. Again.
We’d spent most of last night talking and coming to the conclusion that what’s developed between us is far more serious than either of us had planned—but that we both want to stick with this relationship and see where it leads.
Even though we’d broken off the conversation about my contract in the stick room, we agreed not to discuss it further last night. She insisted that Jameson would understand what happened and be able to explain it when I meet with him later today, and as much as I hated not hearing it straight from her, I had to respect those professional boundaries.
Her meeting with Frank is today, too, which makes me feel like this is a big day—for me as a player, her as GM, and us as a couple.
So the fact that she’s snuck out this morning has me a bit worried. I reach over, resting my hand on the indentation in her pillow, and the warmth there tells me she just got up. Slipping my shorts on, I note that it’s still before six in the morning, and pad down the hall, hoping to find her in the kitchen. Instead, I find her about to walk out my front door.
“Hey,” I say, my voice still scratchy from sleep. “Where are you running off to?”
“I need to head into work.”
I clear my throat. “It’s not even 6 a.m.”
“Yep.”
“AJ.” I say her name like I’ve just caught her doing something wrong and need her to level with me.
“Yes?” Her reply is far too sweet to be sincere.
“Why are you really rushing out of here so early?”
“I really am going to work,” she says, but her voice wobbles, betraying her.
I lift an eyebrow. “Who goes to work this early?”
She sighs as she crosses her arms over her chest, showing off her new cast. “I like to skate for a little bit before anyone gets there.”
“What?” I don’t mean for the word to come out sounding so harsh, but the woman has a broken arm, and she thinks she’s skating?
“Hey, my orthopedist told me at my appointment yesterday that, now that I have the cast on, it’s okay to skate. I just have to be extra careful not to fall.”
“Did you tell him no one else would be there or even know that you’re skating? That seems like an unnecessary risk.”
“Really? Would you be okay not skating for months?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?” she asks, and I find that I don’t have a good answer. “Skating is how I start almost every single day. For me, it’s part of staying physically and mentally healthy. The rink is where I do my best thinking, and given that I have that meeting with Frank later today, I really need to think through what I want to say.”
Last night, she wouldn’t tell me exactly how she planned to approach the conversation with Frank. Now I’m thinking that maybe she’s still not sure how to tell him.
“How are you going to lace your skates up with that cast? There’s no way you’ll be able to get them tied tight enough without hurting your wrist.” The force she’ll have to put on those laces as she tightens them could potentially exacerbate her injury. “And if your skates are too loose, that’ll be dangerous. Let me come and help.”
“What about Abby?” she asks.
“Abby normally wakes up around now anyway. I can get her up and dressed while you go change, and I’ll bring her breakfast to the rink. She can eat while you skate.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. You have to be there in a few hours for practice. Why would you drive there, and then have to bring Abby back here to meet Nicholas, just to turn around and have to return to the rink again?”
I level her with a look. “Because then I can be there for you, too.”
Her whole expression softens. “You’d go to all that effort just to lace up my skates for me?”
Driving halfway across the city to make sure she’s safe while skating seems to me like a very small sacrifice, yet she clearly thinks it’s a big deal. Just like when I brought her the new makeup remover in Philly.
Why is she so shocked when people genuinely want to help her? Every time I realize just how low of a bar Chet set, it makes me want to punch him in the fucking face again.
“I’m not sure there’s anything I wouldn’t do to keep you safe,” I say, because I’m afraid that what I really want to tell her, that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her, would freak her out.
“Fine,” she sighs. “I hate to inconvenience you like that, but I really want to get back on the ice. I feel like part of me is missing when I can’t skate.”
“How did I not know that you still skate?”
“I keep it pretty well hidden.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, leaning toward the open door like she’s about to slip out. “I guess when it comes to work, I keep most aspects of my personal life private. That, and I wouldn’t want you guys to feel bad when I skate circles around you.”
I let out a hearty laugh at the thought of her skating circles around a bunch of NHL players. Then I realize that because she’s smaller than we are and led her college team to a D1 championship, she might not be exaggerating. “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Dead serious.” And with that, she says, “Alright, I’m going to get dressed and pack my work bag, and feed Tabitha. I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.”
I should have left already. If anyone sees me here watching AJ skate before 7 a.m., this whole charade would be over.
But the way she’s zipping around the ice, and how she easily handles her stick, even with her cast on, has me mesmerized. Every single thing about this woman has me in a state of awe: how she looked snuggled into me last night before she fell asleep, the way she kept turning around to talk to Abby as she babbled away in the back seat on our drive over here, and the way she’s proving to me that she probably could skate circles around everyone on our team.
Or is it the way my daughter is standing on the wooden ledge at the top of the boards, wearing the pink high-tops AJ bought her, jumping up and down in excitement while I hold her waist to keep her upright, and yelling “Ay Ay” so that her name ricochets across the ice and off the glass on the other side?
Even though she’s correctly used “Da” to identify me, Abby still hasn’t put two syllables together to say “Dada.” So the fact that she’s already trying to say AJ, and is coming so close to getting it right, has a lump in my throat. Her first word is going to be AJ, and I’m as thrilled about it as if she’d just said Dada.
AJ speeds by, giving Abby a tiny poke in her belly as she does, and Abby laughs. It’s the kind of guttural baby laugh that would have everyone else laughing along, if there were anyone here but the three of us.
Being here, simply watching AJ do something she loves...it brings the kind of quiet contentedness that has a smile permanently etched onto my face. I can’t wipe it off—I’m trying, I really am.
Is this...joy? I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. Have I ever felt like this?
It makes me imagine AJ being the one to teach Abby to skate, and to play hockey. It’s been less than a year since I found out I had a child, but in that time, I’ve never once imagined a future that wasn’t just the two of us. I’d worried about raising a daughter on my own, and I’d never been able to picture someone else walking that path with me. Until now.
“ T he good news,” Jameson says as he hands me a bottle of water and drops a copy of my contract on his desk before sitting in his chair across from me, “is that you have a termination clause in your contract. Otherwise, there’d be no point in us talking.”
“Meaning that I can back out of my contract with Trevor and hire you instead?” I ask dryly. I love that his first order of business was to check that my contract wouldn’t prevent me from hiring him.
“Meaning that we can chat about your situation, and you can determine if you want new representation. Doesn’t have to be me. But I’m not the kind of person who’d go behind another agent’s back and talk to his client if the player’s contract didn’t allow for it.”
I unscrew the cap on the water bottle. “Fair.”
“So tell me why AJ thinks you need a new agent.”
I give him the details of Trevor’s negotiations with AJ before the trade deadline, and his eyes narrow. “That makes no sense.”
“I know. I couldn’t understand why she was digging her heels in like that?—”
“Yes,” he cuts me off. “That’s the part that doesn’t check out. AJ is extremely reasonable and she’s a smart businesswoman. She wants another Stanley Cup. Hell, she doesn’t just want one more, she wants one every year. And getting rid of you would make it more difficult for the team to achieve that goal.”
“Trevor said my proposed contract would put her over the salary cap. So I could either take a one-year extension at exactly what I’m making this year, or leave.”
“I’ve negotiated...” He pauses, and his eyebrows dip as he thinks. “...at least ten contracts with her in the time she’s been here. I can’t see her making that offer, not with your stat line and her goals for the club.”
I want to push back and tell him that my agent was the one who was there, so he’d know. But that’s when it occurs to me that maybe this is why AJ suggested I talk to Jameson—because he knows her better than any other agent does.
“Are you suggesting that what Trevor told me about their negotiation is...untrue?”
Jameson chews on the inside of his cheek as he leans back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee as he rolls up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. “I don’t want to step on Trevor’s toes here. But I will tell you that in all the time I’ve known AJ, I’ve never seen her be unreasonable like that. And I’ve never seen her make a move that would hurt the team. Sure, as GM, she has to make hard decisions, but keeping you seems like an easy one.”
I exhale a relieved sigh and take another sip of my water.
“If you’re thinking you want new representation, we can talk about that. But, if you want it to be me, I’m going to need you to level with me about something.”
“What’s that?”
“Why did AJ know what Trevor was telling you?”
I look at him in confusion, and as I watch his eyes narrow on me, that’s when I realize... Shit. Obviously, the only way she’d know that is if we were discussing my contract, which is expressly prohibited.
“Can I assume that whatever I tell you will remain entirely confidential?”
“Anything you tell me as a client would be confidential, but since you’re not a client yet...whatever. I can keep my mouth shut.”
For a second, I wonder if I should insist on an NDA or something, but then I realize that it probably doesn’t matter. AJ is talking to Frank right now, and after that, it’s all going to come out one way or another. And if he’s going to be my agent, Jameson needs to be prepared so he can help me navigate the publicity aspect of the situation.
“So...AJ and I are seeing each other,” I force out, wondering if it’ll ever get easier to admit that I’m dating my boss.
His mouth drops open, and he says nothing. Jameson’s the kind of guy who chooses his words wisely, but I’ve never seen him speechless. Not even when he’s dealing with some of the shit that Colt, his best friend and most lucrative client, has done.
Skepticism fills his voice when he asks, “And she discussed your contract with you in that capacity?”
I can tell just by his tone that he doesn’t think she’d do that, and he’s trying to decide if he’s just lost all respect for her or if I’m lying.
“No, we didn’t discuss it. She’s steadfastly refused to discuss my contract with me?—”
“As she should.”
“—but I made an offhand comment yesterday about how her refusal to consider even a modest increase in my next contract was a huge slap in the face, like she was making it clear she didn’t want me back on the team next year.”
“And?”
“And the look on her face was...confusion? I don’t know, maybe it was anger? And then she told me I needed a new agent.”
“So she told you to call me, because she knew I’d be able to put the pieces together,” he says, like he’s working it out in his head. “Okay. And how are you guys handling this relationship? I assume no one else knows at this point?”
“I mean, a few select people know. And she has a meeting with Frank Hartmann about this today. I know she wants to be recused from any part of negotiating my salary.”
He hisses out a low whistle, but then looks almost pleased as he sits back in his chair and says, “This is going to be a total shitstorm. The media’s going to have a field day over this, and your teammates are going to be up in arms.”
“Yeah,” I agree, wishing that this was easier, even while I’m willing to walk through this shitstorm if that’s what it takes to be with AJ.
He rubs his hands together. “Well, this will be fun.”
“Fun?” I must be looking at him like he has three heads.
“Yeah. Now that Colt’s turned into a respectable human being, I haven’t had any crises to deal with in a while.”
“And that’s your idea of fun?”
“Getting ahead of the story and outsmarting everyone . . . yeah. That’s fun.”
I let out a low rumble of laughter. I played with Jameson for a year before he retired and became an agent, but I’ve never really seen this side of him. “I’m glad one of us is looking forward to it.”
“Want me to have my assistant draft up a letter for Trevor, letting him know you’re releasing him from your contract? And get a new contract drafted up?”
“Yeah, I think the sooner we do that, the better.”
“You know there’s nothing I can do to speed up the contract process, though, right? Until the playoffs are over, we can’t negotiate anything.”
“Yeah. I know. But I do want to stay in Boston, and at this point, I’d settle for that one-year extension at my current salary if that’s the only thing possible. I’m just not ready to walk away from the team, or from her, unless they don’t give me a choice.”
He shakes his head, and with a chuckle, he says, “Man, you’re down bad.”
“Yep.” I don’t even try to hold back my smile.
“We’re going to need to figure out a plan for when and how the news of your relationship is going to come out. I’ll talk to her publicist and the Rebel’s PR Team to make sure we’ve coordinated everything.”
“Okay. I’ll mention that to her.”
He nods. “I do think we can get your contract settled before the July 1st deadline when you’d become a free agent. And I’m not going to mention your desperation to stay, because I think you deserve a better contract than that. But I’ll be completely honest with you about what they’re offering.”
“Why do you think Trevor would lie to me about this in the first place?” I ask.
“My guess is that he thinks he can get you a much more lucrative contract elsewhere, and since he stands to make a percentage off whatever you make, it’s in his personal interest to negotiate a better contract wherever he can make that happen.”
Anger flares through my chest when I consider that the man who’s been my agent since I entered the NHL has betrayed me. “I thought he was supposed to be doing what was in my best interest.”
“He is. But did you indicate that you’d be willing to go elsewhere?”
“Yeah, I guess maybe I did. My sister and her kids are in Nashville, and since I’ve had Abby, I’ve been feeling like it would be nice to be closer to my family.”
He glances out the window, then looks back at me. “Speaking from experience, there’s the family you’re born with, and there’s the family you choose. Sometimes the two overlap, and sometimes they don’t.”
“I guess that until AJ was in my life,” I say, wondering why I’m admitting this to someone I hardly know, “I didn’t really feel like I had family here.”
“Not even among your teammates?”
My teammates are great guys, but I’ve always held myself at a distance. I guess I never saw myself as a family man, like Walshy and some of the other married guys, and yet never saw my teammates as my brothers, either.
“Nah, not really. I mean, I was always close with Renaud, but because he’s been out this year, I don’t really have my person, you know?” Honestly, Renaud’s not really the kind of guy who’d have any idea what to do to help me with a kid or give advice about this relationship, anyway.
“I do, actually,” he says. “Before Lauren, I always had Audrey and Jules, but that relationship was different because I was almost like a dad to them.”
“Yeah, but you’ve also got Colt.”
Jameson snorts a laugh. “Until recently, that was almost like having another kid.”
I chuckle in response. “Yeah, he’s grown up a lot this season.”
“Listen to you, old man.”
“I’m starting to feel old,” I admit.
“So are you thinking this is going to be your last contract?”
It’s amazing how much more at ease I feel now, knowing that it’s Jameson who’s going to be negotiating my contract. He’s shrewd, but he’s loyal.
“I don’t know,” I say, even though I do know. I know it in the way my body aches at the end of games now, and the way I hate being away from Abby when we travel. “Maybe?”
“Let’s make sure it’s a good one, then, yeah?”