46. Maverick
FORTY-SIX
Coach
Can you give me a few minutes after practice?
I want to talk to you about something.
Me
I swear I didn’t leave trash on the ice. That was Ethan, and I already made him pick it up.
Coach
It’s not above that.
It’s about a possible trade.
Me
Oh. Sure. See you soon.
Brody Saunders is a blunt guy.He’s never sugarcoated anything, and the fact that he didn’t mention specifics in his message other than a possible trade has me nervous as fuck.
“Hey.” I drop into the chair across from him in his office and try to smile. “How’s Olivia?”
“She’s good.” He turns around the photo of his nine-year-old daughter. “Her princess birthday party was a success. Thanks for her gift, by the way. She loved the stencils and sketchbook you sent.”
“Don’t mention it. My friend’s kid is in a big art phase, and I thought Livvie might like all that creative stuff too.”
“She does. I can’t keep up with all the supplies she asks me to buy.” Coach laughs and leans back. “That girl has me wrapped around her damn finger.”
“You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”
“God, no.” He pauses and looks at me. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase about why I asked you to come by. I got a call from Toronto this morning about a trade, and I’m considering taking it.”
With three days to go before the trade deadline, I’m not surprised. Teams are always trying to wheel and deal all the way down to the wire, and our win streak and comeback season makes our players more desirable.
“Who is it?” I ask.
I’m not sure he’s going to tell me—that kind of information typically stays in the boardroom, not with the captains. But I’m really fucking intrigued.
“Justin Harper,” he says, and my mouth drops open.
He’s the best winger in the league, a two-time Stanley Cup winner at only twenty-five. I’ve admired him from the second he was drafted, and we’ve been casual acquaintances since playing on the same All-Star team three years ago.
“Do it,” I say. “I don’t care who it is. That’s a big fucking move. We get him, we go to the postseason and win it all.”
Coach pauses. “They want Emmy.”
I stare at him, and he starts to turn blurry. Everything around me is fuzzy, and there’s a ringing in my ears. My throat closes up, and I try to gulp down a breath.
“Emmy?” I repeat.
“Yeah.” Coach scrubs a hand over his face and groans.
“Who else?”
“Finn when he’s healthy again, and a first round draft pick.”
They’re basically giving Harper away, and it’s a steal of a deal.
Every manager in the league would take it in a heartbeat, and it feels like this meeting is more of a courtesy than asking for my opinion.
“Fuck. Okay. What—” I swallow, but that lump in my throat won’t go away. “How are you feeling about it?”
“I’m torn. We have something really good going on right now. Is it worth blowing it up to take a chance on a maybe? On something that looks good on paper but might not be the best thing long term?”
“Respectfully, Coach, it’s a maybe who has won two fucking Stanley Cups.”
“We can get there with this team. I know we can. I’ve seen the improvements we’ve made, and I know if we keep our core players together, we’re only going to get better. But who’s to say an offer won’t come up for someone else in the offseason and they’ll run with it? Money talks, and teams have a lot of cap space to work with this summer. Hell, I’m surprised you haven’t run. Losing is really fucking hard. This season is better, but coming up short sucks.”
I’m not surprised I’ve stayed.
This team has become my family. The brothers I never had and the attention from authority figures I’ve always craved. I’d never fucking quit on them, even when we’re in the depths of hell.
With the Stars, I’m not just the number on my back or a piece to move around. I’m Maverick, just like Hudson is Hudson and Emmy is Emmy.
Fuck.
Emmy.
“I think we need to decide if the short-term benefits outweigh the long-term goals,” I say, and my voice cracks. “Why do they want to get rid of him? Is something happening behind the scenes that the media hasn’t gotten a hold of yet?”
“Not that I’ve heard. Toronto knows Harper is looking for a big contract, and they don’t have the resources to give him what he wants. They also see the appeal of Emmy with her size and speed. Finn could be the best player this decade once he’s healthy. He’s young. He’s smart. If he’s on your team, you’re getting at least ten more wins a year. They’d recoup the loss of their star while adding more versatile players to their roster.”
“I don’t know what to say, Coach. Six months ago, it would’ve been a fuck yeah, and I wouldn’t have wasted another breath. But today? Today I really want to say no.”
Coach stares at me, and he looks tired. Like the weight of the world sits on his shoulders, and you couldn’t pay me to have his job.
“I’m going to ask you something. Man to man. Brody to Maverick, like we’re shooting the shit at a bar, not coach to player. And I want you to answer honestly.”
I nod, already knowing what’s coming.
“Are you and Emmy involved?”
I finally take a real breath, and his question makes me want to burst out laughing.
Involved seems like the smallest word in the dictionary to define what we are.
Is that the way to describe the person I look forward to seeing every day? Is it the word to use to talk about the woman who makes me smile even when I’m tired and sore and angry after a bad game? Is it the way to tell people that when I look at her, I see the sun and the moon and all the fucking stars?
It seems so insignificant, because what I feel for her is bigger than the sky. The whole fucking planet. You could go all the way to outer space and there still wouldn’t be enough ways to show her much I adore her.
But I also know my role as captain.
The job I’m paid to do and people rely on me for.
I’ve never let my personal feelings come before my professional ones, but fuck it’s hard when it hits so close to home.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “We’re involved and…” I shrug and stare at the corner of his desk. There’s a piece of wood missing, and I wonder where it ended up. “I care about her. A lot.”
Coach hangs his head. It feels like I’ve disappointed him, and it tastes bitter on my tongue.
“I thought so. I noticed the chemistry between you two has amped up, but I didn’t want to assume anything. It’s been getting a little more obvious lately, though, and that game against the Wildebeests sealed the deal. I had to ask.”
“Am I in trouble?” I mumble, and there’s a pressure behind my eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’m sorry.”
“Maverick,” he says gently, and I look up at him. He’s smiling now, and I’m so fucking confused. “You’re not in trouble.”
“I’m not?”
“No. There’s no precedent for this, and to be honest, I was waiting for it to happen. You push each other to be better, and your relationship on the ice probably mirrors what’s going on off the ice as well. It’s exactly what you’d want in a partner, and I’d never send her away because of your feelings. I want to make myself very clear that this doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“Okay.” I run my hand through my hair and try to act like I’m composed. Calm, cool, and collected. “Speaking from a captain’s perspective, you have to do what’s best for the team, Coach. You’re not in charge of what happens behind closed doors. If you think this trade is something we need to seriously pursue, you have my support.”
I’d never stand in the way of Emmy’s career. She’s been worried about what her role on the team might look like when Finn gets back next season, and Toronto would be a guaranteed thing for her.
More money. More opportunities for endorsement deals. A chance to help her dad fix up his house to make it more accessible.
I’d be an idiot to even consider asking Coach to let her stay.
“I know how difficult that must be for you to say, and I appreciate the support.” Coach pinches the bridge of his nose. “This would be a lot easier if we were talking about fantasy drafts, not people we care about.”
“You have a fantasy team?” I ask, and he grins.
“I do. I pick you first every time.”
“Shucks, man.” I put my hand over my chest, and the tension I’m feeling loosens half a degree. “You’re too good to me.”
“I need to mull all of this over. I need to look at lines and who would fill that other roster spot we’d lose. There are a couple AHL guys who could get us through the season, but that’s a risk in itself. I’ll let you know what I’m leaning toward in forty-eight hours.”
“That’s fine.” I bob my head and wring my hands together. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can I be the one to tell Emmy there might be something in the works? She’s someone who likes to move around, but DC is a place she’d really like to stay. I don’t want her caught off guard.”
“You can tell her.” Coach smiles again, and he reaches across the desk to shake my hand. “You’re a good man, Maverick. It’s an honor to be your friend and watch you grow up.”
He might think I’m a good man, but right now, I feel like I’m about to be the asshole of the year.