Chapter 49 Cassie
Cassie
Tonight is Britt’s first hockey game. She came here for moral support but ended up basically salivating over the players on the ice.
“Who’s the guy who just scored?” she asks breathlessly. “I want to ride him like a Zambini.”
“His name is Miller, he’s a total fuckboy,” I answer, “and Zamboni. You mean Zamboni.”
She’s rocking the Nor’easters hat and hoodie she borrowed from me and seems to be currently going through the revelation that professional athletes are hot.
“They’re all so sweaty and sexy and masculine,” she moans, cupping her face with her hands.
“Aren’t you still hooking up with Hot Chef? You don’t have time to add a hockey player to the roster.”
“Okay, yes, but Hot Hockey Player outranks Hot Chef,” she says indignantly. “That’s just the natural pecking order.”
“True,” I laugh. “But remember, the goalie’s mine.”
She snorts. “Yeah, I’ve heard enough sounds from your bedroom late at night the past few months to ever forget that fact.”
I blush, and am still blushing by the time the Nor’easters win and the end of game buzzer blares out.
“THEY WON!” Britt cheers so loud that the beer-chugging bros in front of us nearly jump out of their skin, and I’m pretty sure I’ve just converted Britt to Nor’easters fandom for life.
I smile, too, high-fiving her. But something tugs in my chest. An ache of melancholy.
Britt seems to notice, quieting down. “You okay?” she nudges me with her elbow.
“Yeah, I just—I want to be at the game as an agent, not just a fan.”
She slides an arm around my shoulders. “I know you’re in a dark place with your job right now. But it’s good we came to the game tonight. I’m glad you’re not hiding away from hockey. Remember, optimism kicks pessimism’s ass. You taught me that.”
I smile. My phone buzzes with a text from Cole.
COLE
Thanks for being here, sunshine.
I’m getting pulled into a meeting with Rick. Meet you after? Still owe you that dessert.
My heart flutters. I don’t know what it’s about, but I’m hoping it’s good news about the extension Rick was hinting at recently.
Britt loops her arm in mine. “Let’s go to the bar, and you can tell me exactly which members of the team are single.”
People are streaming across the concourse toward the exits in a sea of Nor’easter blue. It’s always chaotic trying to get out after a game.
“I know a quicker exit.” I nod toward the service stairwell that’s technically only for staff. “Follow me.”
“Damn, Cassie with the secret hockey arena knowledge.”
I push the door open and we sneak through into the quiet, concrete stairwell. The door swings shut behind us, and I’m about to lead us down the stairs, but I freeze when I hear a voice floating up from below.
“Wait.” I throw up a hand to stop Britt and glance down over the barrier.
It’s… the Shark. Noah’s asshole bigshot agent.
He’s a couple of floors down, with a phone pressed to his ear and a cigarette dangling from his fingers.
Snippets of his voice drift up: “Yeah, the Roy kid is talking about ditching me. Looking for a new agent. Don’t worry, I’m handling it… If he tries to fire me, I’ve got the perfect goddamn leverage to make him stay. He won’t want me to tell people about his little panic attacks…”
My stomach sinks. He’s talking about Noah. About blackmailing Noah. What have I stumbled across?
Quietly, I push the door to the hallway back open, and we slip out of the stairwell.
“What was that guy talking about?” Britt asks.
“Nothing good. I think I have to take care of this. Rain check on debriefing you on the Nor’easters gossip?”
“Rain check,” she nods.
I slide my phone out of my jeans pocket. “Good, because I have to find Noah Roy.”
I meet Noah at a diner a few blocks away from the arena. It’s pretty empty by this time of night, except for a few stragglers sitting at the counter, and the waitresses with heavy Boston accents who loudly gossip in the corner.
Noah houses a cheeseburger in that twenty-one-year-old professional athlete who just burned a bajillion calories on the ice kind of way. I order fries, and an iced coffee, obviously. It’s an iced coffee kind of night.
“So what did you want to tell me?” Noah asks, wiping his fingers on a napkin.
I take a deep breath. This isn’t fun news to deliver to someone I care about. “I saw your agent in the stairwell straight after the game. He was on the phone and thought he was alone and… I heard him talking about you.”
Noah’s eyebrows curve upward with worry. He slowly lowers the remains of his burger to the plate. “What did he say?”
I repeat what happened: the Shark on the phone, talking about Noah wanting new representation, about how he’d wield Noah’s secret struggle with anxiety to keep him in line.
Noah leans back against the booth seat. He exhales long and low. “Jeez. That’s not good. That’s really not good, right?”
“It’s the scummiest thing I’ve ever seen an agent do. He’s planning on blackmailing you. That’s cause for immediate termination of your contract with him. Is it true you were talking about switching agencies?”
He nods. “You and Cole are right that he’s not doing me any good. The sports psych you recommended said the same thing. I told my agent I wasn’t happy with how he was treating me.”
“I know this is complicated.” I lean across the table to briefly touch Noah’s wrist. “But we can find a way around this without him telling anyone any details about your mental health.”
I watch as a determined spark suddenly lights up in Noah’s eyes.
He shakes his head vehemently. “You know what? Screw it. He can tell whoever he wants. But I’m going to get there first. I think—I think I’m really ready.
Ready to be honest about myself. I mean, I’ve been playing pretty darn great in the NHL so far, even though I have anxiety.
If I can make it work, why should I be quiet? Why should I hide?”
My heart swells with pride. This is a huge step for Noah. It would be huge for the league, too.
“Are you sure?” I ask softly.
“Positive.” He grins, and it’s like all the fear has drained from his face. “I’ll tell Coach Reed about it. And front office. Heck, I’ll tell the fans too. Maybe I can do some kind of interview talking about it.”
Watching this rookie star stand up and be honest about the most difficult part of himself gives me strength. I’ve seen Cole do it, too: look the most painful thing straight in the eye and refuse to let it control him.
I think I’m nearly ready to do the same.
“That’s great, Noah. It takes real courage to be honest about your struggles.”
“Thanks,” he smiles. “Though I guess that means I need to find a new agent.”
I bite my lip, thinking for a moment. There are lots of other candidates at Noah’s current agency that would jump at the chance to take him on.
I didn’t come here to poach Noah on Rick’s behalf—the furthest thing from it.
I came here to support him as a friend. But I desperately want him to be in the hands of someone who won’t just view him as a money-printing machine.
“I’m not telling you this to promote Legacy Sports.
But you need someone who’s going to support you.
” I dig in my purse for a business card.
“This is my boss’s email. Rick Hernandez.
He dresses like a used-car salesman, but don’t let that fool you.
He’s an elite agent who cares about his athletes and fights to get them what they deserve.
Plus, he’d go insane if the future face of the Nor’easters switches to his agency. ”
Noah takes the card and flips it over. “Rick’s the one who made you babysit Cole all season, right?”
“I didn’t say he was conventional. But he’s a million times better, smarter, and kinder than the Shark. I care about you, Noah, and I wouldn’t recommend Rick if I didn’t believe he’s the best option for you.”
Noah fiddles with his sleeve before raising his gaze to meet mine. “I can think of a better option than that. Someone who’s definitely better, smarter, and kinder than the Shark.”
I blink, confused. “Who? Someone at your current agency?”
Noah laughs. His eyes look big and earnest. “No. Cassie, I want you to be my agent.”
The words take a second to process.
I laugh in disbelief. He must be joking.
Noah stares back at me, a sincere and open expression on his face.
“I’m serious,” he says, leaning forward over the table. “I want you to represent me.”
My thoughts race at a million miles an hour. Every instinct is yelling at me to say yes, but that lurch of self-doubt creeps into me.
“I’m not—I’m just a junior agent, and I’m on the verge of being fired. I don’t even know if I have a place at Legacy Sports anymore. This is insane.”
“You told me yourself that you’ve been NHLPA certified for over a year now.
You were just waiting on the promotion, right?
So you’re already qualified. What’s more, Cole’s been telling me all season about how amazing you are.
He said you’ve made him view everything differently and helped him love hockey again.
Plus, apparently you’re a beast at negotiating. ”
My throat grows tight, warmth and excitement and love bubbling in my chest.
Cole believes I belong. So does Noah.
“I don’t want some slick old dude who doesn’t get me,” Noah continues.
“I mean, you’ve basically been acting as my agent since we met.
Who took my calls when I was freaking out about having panic attacks?
Who recommended me a kickass sports psychologist and gave me actually helpful career advice?
Who showed up here today just to make sure my actual agent didn’t screw over my career? ”
My heart hammers against my chest. A smile is breaking out over my face, but it’s almost too much to believe. The NHL’s top rookie wants me to represent him. The glass really might be half full.
What’s more, if I become a real agent who represents the league’s top rookie, I don’t think my dad will be able to threaten my career anymore.
“I’ll do it,” I say. “I’ll be your agent, Noah. I swear to god I’ll fight every day to advocate for you.”
Noah grins. “Yes! This is going to be awesome.”
He offers his hand, and I shake it. He waves at one of the waitresses. “More fries! We’re celebrating tonight!”
We both collapse into laughter for a moment before real life crashes back into my mind. “One problem,” I say. “I’ll need Rick to agree to this, and right now Rick isn’t my biggest fan.”
As if I’ve summoned him, my phone vibrates on the table and Rick’s name appears on the screen.
Noah and I glance at each other.
Nerves rush through my body as I pick up the call.
“Hello?”