Chapter 23
Payoff
Angie didn’t go to the dinner—with Sam or with Trevor.
Weeks passed, and nothing came of Trevor’s threats, nor did she hear from him again.
He was nothing but hot air, and that fact was one reason she didn’t bother telling Sam about the encounter.
What good would it have done anyway? He didn’t need the added angst. He had enough worries on his plate without letting a gasbag rent space in his head.
Sam had been wound tight for weeks, and one more straw could have sent him spiraling.
He wasn’t a hothead, but he had a possessive streak she’d never seen before, and lately he vibrated like a live wire at its limit, ready to snap.
If he decided to track Trevor down and take out his frustrations on the slimeball, it would accomplish nothing.
An outburst might set him back and hurt his chances of sticking with the team.
He walked a tightrope over a void where his future existed, dark and shrouded.
He hadn’t gleaned anything from his agent, his team, or his coach. The suspense was making him nuts.
He’d been visiting his dad and brother over the last few days, and though she hated to admit it, she was relieved for the respite from the thundercloud following him around.
She’d thrown herself into work, picking up new patients.
Work life was humming. Her love life, though.
All of her wanted to help Sam, but she had no clue how—especially since he’d clammed up.
Self-preservation dictated she follow Jenna’s advice and pull back emotionally, but Angie couldn’t. She was all in. She was in love with him, and her heart hauled her along the rocky path it wanted to follow.
As she wrote up a report on her last patient, Celia announced an unexpected visitor—Coach Marty LeBrun. He ambled toward her, all relaxed ease in his gym shorts, T-shirt, and Blizzard ball cap.
He raised a hand. “Please don’t get up. I only need a few minutes of your time.”
Mid-rise, she plunked her butt back down in her chair, unable to hide her surprise. “Of course. Whatever you need, Coach.”
He leaned against her table and braced his hands on the edge. “The training staff tells me you’ve cleared Durbin.”
She swallowed. “Last week. He’s made great strides and doesn’t need PT anymore. If he continues his current regimen, he should be ready to go for training camp.”
Coach nodded, his gaze straying to the plastic knee model on a nearby desk.
“In fact,” she raced ahead, “I understand he’s been killing it in the drills the trainers have been putting him through.” Please, please sign him!
“Yeah, they’re not seeing any lag. For a while there, they weren’t sure he could make it all the way back.”
“He had a slow start and hit a few bumps along his road to recovery, but that’s not unusual with these kinds of injuries.”
Coach gave her a warm smile. “He had a lot of people in his corner trying to get him back.”
A flush heated Angie’s cheeks. “He’s the one who put in the work.”
“I hear it wasn’t always easy getting him to follow the plan.”
Her eyes popped wide. “That’s not true!” Who had said that? Probably Trevor!
A low chuckled rumbled in Coach’s chest. “He admitted as much to me, so you don’t need to cover for him.” He briefly squeezed her shoulder. “See? He had the right people on his side. He’s lucky, and he knows it.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and he stood upright, making ready to leave. Angie bit her lip, debating.
Oh, what the hell!
“Coach, do you know what the team’s plans are for Sam?
” She didn’t miss the surprise in the man’s eyes.
Yeah, she was definitely out of her lane.
In for a dime, in for a dollar. “I mean, we had a lot of time to talk while he was going through therapy, and he speaks so highly of the coaching staff and management. I’m sure he’d like to stay. ”
“He’s made that clear,” Coach answered cautiously. “No matter where he ends up—whether it’s here or somewhere else—he’ll be a positive asset for his team.”
With that, he said good-bye and strolled away, leaving Angie slightly embarrassed, a little deflated, and as much in the dark as before.
When Sam called later, she kept the conversation with the coach to herself. Now she guarded two secrets.
Joe passed Sam the last dinner plate to dry and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Jeez, it’d be nice if Dad got a dishwasher.”
Sam swiped a cloth across the wet surface and stacked it in a cabinet. “It’s not like this kitchen’s built for it.”
Joe grinned. “Then maybe we should get him a house that is built for it.”
Sam leveled a hard look on his brother. “By ‘we’ you mean ‘me,’ unless you’ve won the lottery and forgot to tell us.
” Their father lived in the same mid-century modern he’d bought when he and their mother had married.
Calling it modern was an upsell, though.
It still had the same yellowed linoleum and harvest-gold sink.
Dad was sentimental about the place—Sam got it—but it was falling down around his ears, and he couldn’t afford to fix what needed fixing.
Joe had the decency to look sheepish. “Not what I meant at all. I was thinking when I graduate and you sign a new contract …”
Sam threw down his towel. “I’d kinda like to buy myself a house first.” One with a big backyard for a dog … and a cat … and this beautiful blond I’m partial to.
Lately, thoughts of settling down had crowded Sam’s mind. What else was he going to think about, though, while he waited for news from the team? Two weeks were all that remained of the season. Time was running out.
He still didn’t know about the bonus money either, which the league had distributed to the teams. Before he’d left Colorado, he’d grabbed a beer with some of the boys who’d stuck around for the summer.
They’d joked about “playoff cash,” as if they had it to throw around, and he’d felt sick to his stomach.
Was he getting paid? No clue. Had they passed him over?
Probably. But someone would have let him know one way or the other, right?
So what the freaking hell was taking so long?
If he did get paid, would there be enough to cover the pile of bills sitting on his dad’s kitchen table?
At least Joe’s tuition was taken care of—for this semester—though Joe continually insisted he didn’t need the help.
And Sam’s contract. What was happening there? He heard nothing but crickets. It was a hell of a spot to be in.
Suddenly twitchy, he pocketed his phone. “I’m going for a walk.”
Joe gave him the bouncing eyebrows as Sam exited the kitchen. “Gonna call your girlfriend?” He sang the last word.
Dad chimed in with, “When are you going to invite her here?” because of course he’d overheard. How could you not when the living room was right next to the kitchen and walls were paper-thin? Not much privacy in a nine-hundred-square-foot home.
“She’s got a full-time job,” Sam called as he banged the screen door behind him. Huffing toward the neighborhood park, he pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen, ready to hit Angie’s number. He lasered in on a missed call. His heart rate rocketed as he tapped the green icon.
“Coach?” he practically shouted when the line picked up.
“Yeah, Sam.” Noise roared in the background—laughter, music, screeching.
Coach never called him Sam. “Uh, should I call back? You sound busy.”
“My kid’s birthday. Hang on.” A door clicked, and the racket disappeared. “Thanks for returning my call.”
“What’s up?” Sam tried for casual and failed.
“Have you talked to your agent today?”
Sam swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “No. Haven’t heard from him.”
“Probably because he’s been tied up with the league office. I wanted you to hear this from us and not social media or one of your friends.” Coach paused a beat. “You’ve been traded.”
Sam’s heart stopped and plummeted to his knees. “W-where?” His voice cracked.
“You’re going to the Surge in North Carolina. I think this is going to be a good opportunity for you.”
A loud buzzing sounded in Sam’s ears as blood pounded through his head. The Surge? North Carolina? He’d never been traded before, and now he was headed clear across the county. And the team sucked!
“Uh, when did this happen?”
“The deal just got finalized. I pushed to call you myself.” Coach went on to tell Sam what a good fit he thought the team would be, that the Surge was getting a solid player, blah, blah, blah, but Sam didn’t register any of it.
He tuned back in when Coach added, “Their GM will reach out shortly. Your agent will walk you through the details.”
“Yeah, okay,” Sam croaked.
“Hey, I just want to say I’ve enjoyed coaching you. I mean that. Go do good things there.”
Sam hung up and later wouldn’t remember if he’d even bothered to say “thank you” or “good-bye.” All he could recall was standing in the middle of the sidewalk under a blazing sun while his world imploded around him.
Hours after the call, Sam felt as though he was being buffeted in the eye of a storm.
Chaos swirled around him. He’d briefly texted with his agent before meeting his new coach over a Zoom meeting.
He’d answered calls and texts from his teammates …
new and old. He’d tried to answer his dad’s and brother’s barrage of questions.
He’d answered Angie’s text with a short one, saying stuff was happening and he’d fill her in later.
His emotions were a twisting tornado of terror and excitement.
As the phone rang once more, he traipsed to the bedroom he shared with Joe and shut the door. This was the call he’d been waiting for.
“Hey, Herb.”
“How you holding up, son?”
“Still in shock. What do you have for me?”
“Let’s get to the simple stuff first. Made some calls, and your playoff share from your old club came through. You’re getting a partial. Looks to be about twenty-two grand before taxes.”
Maybe the bigger news of the trade overshadowed everything else, but Sam couldn’t muster joy or disappointment over the number. It wasn’t enough to pay off Dad’s debts, but it wasn’t chump change either. “That’s nice they included me.”
“Pretty generous, considering your skates never touched the ice during playoffs. Which brings me to your new team.”
“The Carolina Surge,” Sam deadpanned.
“Keep an open mind, son. This is a great opportunity. I know their record isn’t stellar, but they’re under new management, and they’re turning their ship around with a mix of veterans and young players.
That’s where you come in. They specifically targeted you.
They like you. You’re a key piece of their future.
You’ll be a starter in their top six, and the GM made it clear they didn’t trade just to flip you.
They want to lock you up, and they want it done immediately. This gives us some leverage.”
Sam knew nothing about his new GM. Was the guy a bullshitter or a straight shooter? “So what are they willing to do?”
“I’ve already told them you’ll only sign a one-way contract, multi-year. You’re a proven NHLer, and they agree. No more minor leagues. That shows real commitment. They believe in you.”
A bubble of eager hope popped in Sam’s gut. “What about the ankle?”
“You’ve been cleared. They checked with the Blizzard medical staff. Of course, you’ll need to pass their physical, but that’s normal in a trade.”
“When do I do that?”
“In a few days, during your first visit. They want you there to meet staff, see the facilities, do your media intro. It would be a good time to get familiar with the city and find a place to live.”
Shit! Sam hadn’t considered that part of the equation. He needed to tell his landlord. He needed to move his shit. He needed to convince Angie that—
“Now that the table’s set, my goal is to get you the best term and AAV,” Herb continued.
Sam took a pull from his water bottle. “What’s reasonable for someone like me?”
“You’re a star, but you’re not established.
Yet. That puts you anywhere from $1.2 mil to $2.
4 mil. Two years, maybe three. You’re twenty-six, and your best earning years are ahead of you.
Assuming you stay healthy, you can ask for a lot more when this contract is over.
” Herb chuckled. “And will you look at that. The GM’s calling me now.
Hang in there, son. I have a really good feeling about this. ”
No sooner had they hung up than a different number lit up Sam’s screen. He didn’t recognize it but picked up the call.
“Durbin here.”
“Hey, Durby! This is your new captain. I hear you’re ours now, and I’m here to bust your ass.”
“Cam Blue?” Sam laughed. “When the hell did they make you captain of the Surge?” Blue was an elite defenseman—and a real hard-ass—who had played with Sam on the Blizzard before they traded him. Sam liked and respected the guy a hell of a lot.
“The boys voted on it at the end of the season. Not sure they made the right decision, but hey, I’m honored. You still in shock from the news?”
“Hell yeah.”
“I know the feeling. But you’ll get over it. The Blizzard did you a favor, dude. Welcome to the circus.”
Sam’s nerves had been jangling since The Call, but hearing Blue’s voice relaxed them a fraction or five.
“Where are you?” Blue asked, and Sam filled him in. “What the fuck are you doing there? Book a damn flight already. You got a place yet?”
“Hell no! I just found out about the trade a few hours ago.”
“Good. Don’t sign anything. One of the guys is leaving, and his house just hit the market. It’s a sweet place in the same neighborhood where most of the boys live. Seriously, you need to get here before someone else jumps on it. You got a girl who needs to see it?”
Did Sam have a girl? Who would move with him to North Carolina? “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure? Jesus Christ, Durby. If you’re not sure, then you need a fuck-ton of help. Get your ass up here and bring your-not-sure-girl with you. Seeing this place should convince her.”
Sam couldn’t hold back a grin. “I’m on it.”
“Do that. Don’t make me come drag your ass out here myself.” Blue’s voice took on a more serious tone. “For what it’s worth, I told them to go get you. I’m glad you’re one of us now.”
“Thanks, man,” Sam choked out, suddenly overcome by a different emotion.
“Don’t make me regret it.”
After they ended the call, Sam found himself looking forward to the trip to North Carolina. He knew where he stood now. Maybe it was in a better place.