Chapter 65
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
DYLAN
They post the notice on the bulletin board before most of the guys are even dressed for morning skate.
Transfer Listed
Daniel Cain
Effective immediately
It’s not printed big or bold. Just a standard white page with the club’s crest in the top-left corner. But it might as well be a siren blaring through the locker room. Jacko’s the first to spot it, mid-lace-up, and the entire bench room seems to tilt with the shift in the air.
Murphy lets out a low whistle. “Guess karma doesn’t skip leg day.”
Danny strolls in ten minutes later, holding a protein shake and grinning like he’s cracked a joke only he finds funny, until he sees the sheet.
“The fuck is this?” he mutters.
Ollie glances at me, then quickly looks away. Jonno, taping up sticks by the far wall, stays silent. He’s already said what he needed to yesterday when he pulled Danny off-ice after one of his little outbursts.
Coach Bentley follows a minute later, like a storm rolling in behind the sunrise. “Cain,” he says sharply. “Office. Now.”
Danny scoffs. “This is about the bird, isn’t it? Bloody joke, she was never gonna stay.”
Murphy stands up. “Watch it.”
I rise too, slow and steady. “Say her name again and I’ll make sure your last skate out of here is on crutches.”
Coach cuts in before it boils over. “That’s enough. Everyone else; on the ice. Now.”
I don’t see Danny again that morning.
Word travels faster than slapshots in our world.
By the time we’re halfway through drills, everyone’s heard the whole story.
How Coach was already keeping tabs on Danny’s behaviour; late to meetings and training, mouthing off at staff, the drama with the club’s PR team earlier in the season.
His locker room comment about Mia was just the last match thrown into a pile of dry leaves.
I wish I felt some kind of relief but I don’t. I feel empty. Raw. Like someone sandpapered every part of me that still held hope and left it bleeding.
I haven’t heard from Mia again since her message, and I haven’t stopped checking.
It’s just after ten when I finally get off the ice and peel off my pads. I’m halfway through wiping the sweat off my face when Jonno taps me on the shoulder.
“You’ve got visitors,” he says.
My stomach drops. “Who?”
He jerks his head toward the hallway and smirks. “Go see for yourself.”
I pull on joggers and a hoodie, barely towelling off my hair, and push through the door.
She’s standing right there. She looks tiny, fragile even, with her hair pulled back in that no-nonsense ponytail, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion but shining with something else, something that glints like determination. She’s got a folder in one hand and a slight, apologetic smile on her lips.
And standing beside her is a tall guy in a charcoal coat and polished shoes. He’s got the kind of stance you see in courtroom dramas; shoulders squared, expression unreadable, eyes sharp enough to cut through lies. He sizes me up like he’s already reading my psychological profile.
I stop in my tracks.
Mia’s gaze softens. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I croak, and then I’m moving before I even think about it.
She meets me halfway; there’s no dramatic hug. No kiss. Just her hand finding mine.
“I keep reading your message,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“And?”
“And I keep crying through most of it,” she admits. “I read it to Sophie, sorry. Then I printed it out and stuck it in the folder with everything else that matters.”
I nod, my throat tight. “You left.”
“I needed to think. But I’m back now.”
I glance at the man beside her.
“This is Ben,” she adds. “My brother. And my lawyer. Our lawyer. He wrote the letter we’re taking to Mike.”
Ben holds out his hand. “So. You’re Dylan Winters.”
I shake it firmly. But I offer no smile.
“I’m not gonna do the older brother ‘hurt-her-and-I’ll-end-you’ speech,” he says. “Mostly because I assume you already know how bad it would look if you messed this up.”
My heart stutters. “I’m not planning on messing anything up.”
He studies me. “Good answer.”
Mia squeezes my hand again. “We wanted to see you first. Before the meeting.”
I step closer. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
She looks up at me, all steel and fire and the kind of quiet bravery that takes my breath away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Ben clears his throat. “I’ll give you two a minute. Just don’t elope while I’m gone.”
He heads down the corridor, and I reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You look tired,” I murmur.
She shrugs. “I haven’t slept much. Being in love is exhausting.”
My breath catches. She said it like it’s not a bomb. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I love you so much,” I say. “You know that, right?”
“I do now.” She leans in, pressing her forehead to my shoulder. “Dylan, if this goes sideways…”
“We’ll fix it,” I say. “One way or another.”
“I just don’t want to cost you your career.”
“You are the career now,” I tell her. “I’d walk if it came to that.”
She swallows. “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”
“Let’s hope Ben terrifies them enough they offer you a promotion.”
She laughs, and I think I fall in love with her all over again.
We talk for another minute, just the two of us, our voices low, and our hands still knotted together. Then Ben returns, all business like and with his game face on, and Mia squares her shoulders like she’s heading into a match herself.
“I’ll be waiting after,” I tell her.
She nods. “You’d better be.”
They disappear down the corridor toward the boardroom, and I’m left standing in the hallway, heart thudding, and hope blooming in my chest like something dangerous and wild.
Murphy catches me as I’m walking back to the locker room. “Was that the Mia?” I nod. “And the suit?”
“Her brother.”
Murphy whistles. “He looks like he eats insurance companies for breakfast.”
“He wrote a formal legal counter.”
Murphy grins. “God, I love this woman. Marry her, will you?”
“I just might.” I say with more certainty than I’ve ever felt about anything before.
Before I can say anything else, there’s movement in the hallway behind us. It’s Danny. He’s walking out of the GM’s office carrying a gym bag and looking like someone spat in his drink. He catches sight of me and stops.
“Enjoy your pity parade,” he sneers. “Club’ll drop you next season when they realise she’s turned you soft.”
Murphy moves like lightning, stepping between us. “Pack your ego and your bruised pride in that bag and fuck off, Cain. You’ve done enough damage.”
Danny scoffs. “She picked the wrong player. That’s all I said.”
Coach Bentley appears from behind the office doors. “Actually, what you said was that she should’ve picked you. Right before you called her a distraction and told the team she was using Dylan for clout.”
Danny’s face pales. Coach steps forward. “And that’s just the latest in a long list of reasons you’ve been listed, Cain. Maybe next time you want to impress a woman, try being decent.”
Danny doesn’t respond. Just shoulders his bag and disappears out the door.
I exhale, body tight with a tension I didn’t realise I’d been holding. “Thanks,” I say to Coach quietly.
He just claps me on the shoulder. “She’s a good one. So are you. We’ll get through this.”
Murphy grins. “And if we don’t, I’m starting a podcast. First episode, ‘How Danny Fumbled the Bag.’”
Both Coach and I snort with laughter before Coach asserts his authority again, “Get outta here, I’m sure there’s weights to be lifted.”