Chapter Twenty-Three
Bodie
We did it again. Twice. I still can’t believe Bryce bottomed for me in the first place, but I’m so happy he trusted me with all of himself. Between opening up to me about his dad’s accident and then offering to let me fuck him, he’s been the most vulnerable he’s probably ever been in his life.
Since the other night, I’ve been on a high, I hadn’t come down yet, until the text messages I got a few minutes ago from Coach. I’ve been staring at my phone since, terrified of what’s to come.
Coach Walker
Hey kid. I need to see you in my office at 10 a.m.
Don’t be late.
I have an hour to get ready, and I can’t seem to move.
“He’s going to can me.” If I say it out loud, then it won’t be such a shock when it happens, right? Even if no one is here to listen.
Zombie mode activates as I get ready, just going through the motions as I surrender to my fate. Getting fired from a team at this level is almost certainly death to my career.
Driving to see Coach is a complete blur.
Stepping out of the car is one of those moments where you have no idea how you got there.
The walk down the corridor toward his office is even worse.
The pounding in my chest has spread to my ears, and I don’t even hear my knuckles rap on the door.
I walk in, not even knowing if I was granted access.
When I see Coach leaning back in his chair, another man in a button-down and slacks standing next to him, and my agent sitting in a chair on the other side of the desk, I stop dead in my tracks.
“If I’m being fired, just tell me now. Put me out of my misery.”
Coach crosses his arms the way he does when he’s upset with one of us, and I almost turn and walk out the door. “Well, seeing how you played those last few games, you need to understand why you’re leaving the team.”
Fuck, I knew it.
The guy standing next to him reaches for my hand, and I clasp it out of politeness instead of running down the hall screaming. “John Finley. Talent scout for the Tornadoes. Nice to meet you.”
“What? Who?” My agent laughs, and it calms me a little.
“You’re getting called up, kid.”
Did I hear him right?
“That’s if you’d like to join us.” John chuckles.
Oh my goodness, he did say it. This is it. I’m going to the NHL. I’ve been waiting my entire career for this. The early mornings and long nights; so many hours preparing for this moment. All the training and hard work are finally paying off.
“Bodie?” Coach says, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Umm, yes. Yes. Absolutely.”
“Well, why don’t we sit down and discuss your contract a little further before you decide?” My agent sends me a stern look.
The next hour is a whirlwind as we finalize the deal. When Mr. Finley lets me know when I need to be in Raleigh for training camp leading up to the new season, that’s when it dawns on me—Bryce.
What will happen when I move? It’s almost a three-hour drive. I school my face as we say our goodbyes, trying not to worry about how to tell Bryce. As soon as I walk out the door, I text the person I need to speak to most right now.
Me
You home? I’m on my way over.
Davidson
Sure. Give me 20 min please.
I have no concept of time as I rush over to his apartment and knock on his door like a madman. “Davidson, open up.”
“What the fuck is going on?” he says as he opens the door and I barge in, making my way past him.
Davidson watches me pace from one end of his living room to the other. The pounding in my ears overpowers the sound of my footsteps on his floors, and when sweat trickles down my temples, I regret running up the four flights of stairs to get here.
“Foster—”
“I got called up.”
“Shit, that’s great, man.” His response isn’t what I expected. “But why does it sound like that’s a bad thing?”
“Bryce.”
“Oh, Bryce.” Davidson drops his gaze to the floor.
“Yeah. What the fuck do I do, Emmett?”
“Do you love him?”
I stop pacing, my eyes darting to his. “Yes, of course.”
“Any chance in hell you’d give up the NHL for him?”
The answer is non-negotiable. “No.”
“Then if he loves you, he’ll understand.”
“But—”
Davidson grasps my shoulder before I can say any more. “No buts. You can make long distance work until it gets more serious—or until you get canned for sucking.” It pulls a laugh out of me, and I feel myself relax a little. He has a way of calming my anxiety, just like Bryce.
“Okay. So, long distance.” Just the thought of not seeing him every day is depressing, but Davidson is right—I wouldn’t give up the NHL for anything. I’ve dreamed of this moment for most of my life. I can’t give it up now.