Chapter Four Free Agent
JULIAN
Monday, I’m back in Denver, at the stadium. We’ve just finished practice. After the other guys have filtered out of the locker room, I make my way to Coach’s office.
His door is open. I still stop at the threshold and knock on the frame.
“Coach,” I call.
He glances up from the papers on his desk and gives me a curious frown.
Coach Sullivan is a big guy, even by my standards.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered, but admittedly a bit rounder in his older age compared to when he played hockey.
He’s smooth-shaven and bald, with sharp dark eyes that can make tough-as-nails hockey players quiver in their pads when he glares.
He tilts his chin toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Wilder. What can I help you with?”
I walk into the room and drop down into the chair. For a second, I hesitate to say what I know I need to say. Then I think of Mrs. Clay leaning against the counter and insisting she’s fine when I know she’s not, and I exhale.
“I’ve been thinking about next season.”
He leans back in his chair and nods. “Already? This season just started.”
I clear my throat. “Well, you know…I’m a free agent now.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, arching a brow. “Get to the point, Wilder. What do you want to say?”
I run a hand over the back of my neck.
“I was back in Chicago this weekend,” I tell him.
“Everything okay with Mrs. Clay?” he asks.
His immediate concern for her is just a reminder of how good of a guy Coach is. How much he actually gives a shit about his players.
“She says it is, but I think she’s trying not to let on just how bad things really are,” I admit. “She’s slowing down. It’s clear it’s getting harder for her to take care of herself.”
Coach nods. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ve been thinking about what it would mean to be closer,” I murmur. “To be in Chicago so I can take care of her.”
I glance up to gauge his reaction, worried he’ll look angry. To my relief, he appears calm.
“We’d miss you,” he says after a moment.
Fuck, why does that suck so much to hear? Something tightens in my chest.
“I know,” I nod.
He leans forward and rests his arms on his desk.
“You’re a big part of this team, Wilder.
I’d hate not to have you with us, but I’ll be straight with you.
” He lets out a huff of breath. “The way we’ve built this team and have worked so hard to keep the core unit all together has forced us to put a salary cap in place.
We may not be able to offer you what another organization can. ”
My stomach twists. That’s a strike against Denver. “Fuck, yeah…I appreciate the honesty.”
Coach studies me for a second before continuing, “If you decide to explore options, you should talk to someone who knows the business side.”
I frown. “Yeah?”
He nods. “I can put you in touch with my son.”
I blink, caught off-guard for half a second. Hadley’s dad?
“He’s a top-tier agent and attorney,” Coach adds.
“He’s in Colorado Springs. Mostly works with Olympians, but he’s helped Night Hawks guys a few times before and didn’t take a big cut.
He knows how to navigate this stuff. Contracts, long-term planning, all of it.
He’ll be able to negotiate the best deal possible for you. ”
The offer surprises me, and before I can come up with anything to say, Coach opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a business card, passing it to me.
“I’m not saying you have to do anything,” he continues. “Just talk to him and get information. Make the best decision you can with what you’ve got.”
I slowly take the card.
“Thanks,” I murmur. “I appreciate that, Coach.”
“Whatever you decide,” he says, “make sure it’s the right call for you.”
My laptop is open on the coffee table, the glow from the screen the only light in the room.
I’ve pulled up Chicago’s roster and have been going over it for the past half-hour since I got home from practice.
I know the names of most of the guys and am familiar with the team’s way of playing from all the times we’ve been on the ice against them.
It’s a system I could probably slot into without too much adjustment.
There is a part of me that’s hesitant, given some of the reputations of the guys on the team. Some are notoriously heavy hitters. Others are assholes on and off the ice. Not ideal, but they have talent…and I just can’t ignore the potential money.
I click over to their schedule next. Travel, home stretches, and back-to-backs.
I catch myself mapping it out, envisioning what the season would look like, and what life would look like around the games.
Unless I’m traveling, I’d be able to check in on Mrs. Clay pretty much every day since I know she’ll never agree to move somewhere else.
Honestly, if I look at things from a purely logical point of view, the decision should be easy, but it feels like a weight is crushing down on my chest.
I lean back against the couch cushions, dragging a hand over my face.
Fuck. Leaving would hurt like a son of a bitch, but what do I really have holding me here? My friends, sure, but I don’t have family here. No future prospects.
There’s no real reason Denver has to be forever for me.
My phone suddenly buzzes on the couch next to me, pulling me out of my head.
I glance down and see Hadley’s name flash across the screen as a new text comes in.
Grinning, I snatch up the phone and open the message immediately.
She’s sent me a picture of a cup of coffee with a fancy leaf design in the foam.
Hadley: I actually left my dorm today and made it to a nearby cafe for a break. Be proud!
I chuckle. Good. I’m glad she’s not staying locked up in her room.
I know she tends to keep to herself and pretty much focused on studying, even though she’s recently admitted that she doesn’t actually like what she’s learning.
I’ve come to really admire her determination and work ethic, even while I hate the fact that she’s not pursuing something she loves.
Julian: So proud. The hermit has emerged from her cave!
Her reply is quick.
Hadley: I’m not a hermit! It’s just…selective isolation.
I huff out a quiet breath, leaning forward and putting my elbows on my knees. I hate thinking of her over there, all alone, stuck going to school for something she doesn’t enjoy. I can’t help but worry about her. Her confession weighs heavy on my mind.
Julian: Are you doing okay?
There’s a bit of a pause this time before her response comes in.
Hadley: I’m fine…just overthinking stuff.
I glance at the laptop screen, Chicago’s roster still staring back at me.
Julian: Yeah, I get that.
Hadley: How was your birthday? Did you end up going to Chicago like you wanted?.
I chuckle and shake my head.
Julian: Birthday was good, and yeah, I made it to Chicago. Got your present before I left Denver. So fucking cool.
Hadley: Oh, good! I’m glad you got it. Do you really like it? You mentioned you liked Taskmaster, and I just saw it in a shop here one day. Couldn’t resist.
Julian: My own trophy replica from the show? It’s awesome, Hads.
Hadley: Yay! Nailed it!
The thought of my two favorite people coming face-to-face fills me with a strange sort of warmth. I’m not sure it’ll ever happen, given how far away they both are, but I know Hadley and Mrs. Clay would adore each other.
Damn, there’s something about this girl that just puts me at ease. She makes me smile and laugh more than I think anyone ever has. It’s easy to talk to her, and I feel like I can tell her just about anything. I don’t, but that’s how comfortable we’ve become.
I really didn’t expect us to get so close.
I still remember the exact second I first laid eyes on her, right after she’d helped Stacey give birth at the stadium.
I’d walked in to see this delicate-looking woman standing out among the chaos.
My eyes had widened, my entire brain short-circuiting as I stared at her.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, yeah, but she was also calm and confident, hovering around Stacey protectively.
By the time Rylee and Zander’s wedding rolled around, I’d already been tracking her in my perimeter. At the reception, I noticed the quiet, anxious way she held herself, realizing she was entirely out of her depth. The protective instinct to shield her had slammed into me like a freight train.
By the end of the night, she’d declared us best friends, insisting we had to stay connected. I hadn't just passively agreed. I’d taken her phone right out of her hand, my fingers brushing hers as I typed my number into it.
You call me the second you wake up tomorrow to check in, I’d ordered her. And you text me the exact minute your plane touches down safely back in England. Understand?
I wanted a lifeline to her, and I wasn't above demanding it. She had texted me the next morning, just like I told her to. The messages had simply never stopped flowing. Even from thousands of miles away, I’d found myself looking after her, checking in on her days, making sure she was eating, protecting her from afar because the memory of how she looked in my arms refused to let me go.
She’s become a good friend. Just a friend.
That’s what I’ve been telling myself, anyway.
I can’t get enough of her, truthfully. The way she talks. The way she doesn’t try too hard. The way she lets things sit instead of forcing them.
She has the sweetest heart-shaped face with a cute button nose, wavy brown hair, and the darkest chocolate brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
When I first saw her at the wedding, I was stunned.
She was so gorgeous, dressed in a flowing dress that emphasized her soft curves.
She’s so small and delicate, I’m certain I could hold her with one arm, and it wouldn’t take me any effort.
She pulls me in more than she should. I exhale slowly, slumping on my couch. It should feel simple, but it’s not. She’s too young… and the Coach’s granddaughter, to boot. Hadley Sullivan is off-limits in more ways than I want to count.
My grip tightens around my phone before I force myself to relax.
Don’t go there. Don’t fuck up a good thing.
Hadley: All right, I should get to this study group thing. Chat later?
I lick my lips, not wanting her to go yet, but instead I type,
Julian:You bet. Have a good night.
Once I send the message, I set my phone down and let my head fall back against the couch. For a second, I just sit in silence, staring up at my ceiling. Eventually, my eyes drift back to the laptop. Chicago’s roster stares back at me. A sudden thought crosses my mind, catching me off-guard.
If I had a woman like Hadley here, I’d have a real reason to stay.
What the fuck? Don’t be a fucking idiot! There will never be another girl like Hadley, and she’s not in Denver. Hell, if she were, it wouldn’t matter! She’s my friend. Nothing more.
She can’t be anything more.
Gritting my teeth, I reach over and shut the computer off.