Chapter 26
ADAN
Three offer letters. Three different futures. Three paths that represented everything I’d worked for my entire life.
I sat alone in my dorm room, the papers spread across my desk like a roadmap I didn’t know how to read. Tank was at the library—or more likely at his girlfriend’s place—giving me rare privacy to think. Outside, March snow fell softly, muffling the usual campus noise.
Detroit. Minnesota. Buffalo.
Boston hadn’t come through, but in its place, Buffalo had made an offer.
Each letter represented a dream come true.
Entry-level contracts, signing bonuses, the chance to play in the best hockey league in the world.
Everything my parents had sacrificed for, everything I’d bled and sweated for, right there in official letterhead and formal language.
My phone buzzed with a reminder: meeting at 2 p.m. Coach Brennan’s conference room.
Time to make a decision that would shape the rest of my life.
The past three weeks had been insane. After Nils had dropped his prince bombshell, media had descended on our campus like locusts.
Reporters from around the world, all wanting to know about the secret prince who’d been coaching college hockey.
But Nils had handled it perfectly—dignified, brief, always redirecting attention back to the team.
Thank fuck it was all dying down now, as he had predicted.
We’d won the conference championship game with half the hockey world watching. I’d scored twice, knowing that somewhere in the chaos of cameras and crowds, Nils was watching with that quiet pride that still made my chest tight.
Now the Frozen Four loomed in two days. The biggest stage in college hockey. But first, I had to decide where my future lay.
I gathered the letters and headed across campus. The conference room was already occupied when I arrived: Dad in his funeral suit, as he called it, Coach Brennan looking professional but clearly proud, and Nils maintaining that careful distance we’d perfected over months of practice.
And then there was Floyd Beaufort, my agent. I’d hired him as my agent a few weeks prior, and he’d been talking to every hockey scout on the planet, but especially the teams interested in me. Thanks to him, I had three offers on the table.
“Adan,” Coach Brennan said warmly. “Ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I took a seat next to my dad, who squeezed my shoulder. Across the table, Nils offered a small smile that I felt more than saw. Three folders lay on the table between us, my entire future condensed into paper and ink.
“Let’s walk through each offer,” Floyd said. He was young, not even thirty, but he had an excellent track record, and I liked him. He’d listened when I’d told him what I wanted, that it wasn’t merely about the money for me. “Make sure you understand what you’re looking at.”
He opened the first folder. “Detroit. Strong offer, standard entry-level contract terms. What makes this special is McLaughlin’s personal interest. He’s told me directly he sees you fitting into their development system. They have one of the best programs for bringing young players along.”
The second folder. “Minnesota. They like that you’re a Midwestern kid, blue-collar background. It fits with their team culture. They’re building something special with young talent. You’d have opportunities early, especially with their current roster construction.”
The third. “Buffalo. Keep you close to home, great fan base that would embrace you. They’re in a rebuild, which means patience but also opportunity to be part of something from the ground up. With you, they might actually stand a chance to win some games.”
I studied each offer, though I’d already memorized the details. The money was similar—entry-level contracts were heavily regulated. It came down to opportunity, development, and something harder to define.
“I’d like to hear what everyone thinks,” I said. “Your honest opinions. Coach Brennan?”
Coach Brennan leaned back, choosing his words carefully.
“Detroit has the best track record developing players like you. Their system, their coaching staff, the way they bring players along has been successful. McLaughlin’s interest in you specifically is also significant.
When a scout champions you like that, it matters. ”
I nodded, then looked at Nils. “Coach Anders?”
His eyes met mine briefly before he looked at the folders. “You need to go where you’ll grow most, not where you’ll be most comfortable. Sometimes, the harder path is the right one. Consider which organization will push you to be better, not just as a player but as a person.”
Classic Nils: saying everything and nothing at once. But I heard the subtext. Don’t choose based on staying close. Choose based on what’s best for your career.
Finally, I turned to my dad. He’d been quiet, studying the papers like they held secrets he could decode through sheer will. “Buffalo means we could watch you play. Your mother and I… We could see our son live his dream. Not on TV, not on highlights, but there in person.”
The weight of those words hit me like a check into the boards. All those years of them missing tournaments because of work, watching grainy streams on their phones during breaks, celebrating my goals hours after they happened.
“Dad,” I said, my throat suddenly tight. “You’ve worked double shifts my whole life for this. Mom cleaned houses until her hands were raw. You gave up vacations, new cars, everything so I could have this chance.”
“We did it because we love you, Puck. Because we could see you had not only talent, but the drive to make it.”
“I know. But now it’s my turn.” I took a breath. “When I sign—whichever team I choose—you’re both retiring.”
His eyes widened. “Adan—”
“You’ve sacrificed enough. Fifteen years of extra shifts, of missed dinners, of putting your dreams aside for mine. When this contract kicks in, you’re done. Both of you.”
“We can’t—”
“You can and you will. Let me take care of you now. Please. It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve given me.”
My dad’s eyes grew wet, this strong man who’d built his life with his hands and never complained about the cost. He pulled me into a fierce hug, whispering broken sentences about pride and love and how I’d always been worth every sacrifice.
When we separated, Coach Brennan was discreetly checking his phone, giving us privacy, and Floyd had done the same thing. Nils was watching with soft eyes, understanding the weight of this moment between father and son.
“Okay,” I said, voice steadier now. “Let me walk through my thinking.” I touched each folder in turn. “Buffalo would be safe. Comfortable. Stay close to home, familiar territory. But maybe too comfortable. Maybe I need to be pushed outside my comfort zone.”
Nils hummed in agreement.
“Minnesota is intriguing. Young team, fresh energy. But something doesn’t feel right. Can’t explain it better than that, but it’s…” I shrugged. “It’s not the right place for me.”
“Always trust your gut,” Floyd said. “It may pick up on something your conscious brain doesn’t.”
Finally, Detroit. “McLaughlin was the first. Before the other scouts started circling, before the media attention, before anyone else thought I was worth their time, he saw something in me. That kind of faith, that means something.” I looked around the table.
“He believed in me when I was nothing but potential, when I hadn’t proven myself yet.
That deserves faith in return.” Another deep breath, and then the weight dropped off my shoulders, knowing I was making the right choice. “I wanna play for Detroit.”
Coach Brennan slid the conference-room phone across the table. “Then make the call.”
My hands shook slightly as I dialed the number McLaughlin had given me. It rang twice before his familiar voice answered.
“Joe McLaughlin.”
“Mr. McLaughlin? It’s Adan Rivera.”
“Adan! Good to hear from you. How are you feeling about that offer we made?”
I took a breath. “I’d like to formally accept your offer to join the Detroit Red Wings organization.”
The excitement in his voice was immediate. “That’s fantastic news! Welcome to the Red Wings family, son. We’re thrilled to have you.”
“Thank you for believing in me.”
“Thank you for proving me right. Listen, we’ll want to get you and your parents out here for the signing. PR wants to do it right with a press conference, jersey ceremony, the whole thing. That work for you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Perfect. We’ll probably want to do it tomorrow, but our PR coordinator will call with all the details. Private jet from Buffalo, so bring your folks and anyone else you want there. This is a big moment—celebrate it.”
“I will. Thank you again.”
“See you tomorrow, Adan. And hey—go win that Frozen Four. Would love to have signed a national champion.”
After I hung up, the room was quiet for a moment. Then Coach Brennan stood, extending his hand. “Proud of you. Detroit’s getting a hell of a player.” His grip was firm, coach-like. “Now go win us a championship.”
“Planning on it, Coach.”
My dad hugged me again, tighter this time.
Nils hung back, maintaining that professional distance we’d both gotten too good at.
But when our eyes met, everything we couldn’t say in front of others passed between us.
Contract signed meant I wasn’t technically a student-athlete anymore.
Still his player until the season ended, but the countdown to freedom had officially begun.
“Congratulations, Adan,” he said formally. “Detroit is very lucky to have you.”
“Thank you, Coach. For everything.”
The weight of those words—everything he’d taught me, everything we’d been through, everything we’d sacrificed to reach this moment—hung in the air between us.
I wanted to say more, wanted to tell him that none of this would have happened without him, that signing this contract meant we were almost free, that in a few more days, we could stop pretending. But not here, not now, not with others watching.