42
Nash
Mitchell and Bryce showed up for brunch a little after ten. Kennedy emerged from the bedroom looking effortlessly cute and happy in leggings and one of my sweatshirts, which was huge on her.
“Morning, beautiful,” Mitchell said, grinning at me as he pulled her into a hug.
“Good morning, Mitchell,” she replied in a teasing tone that made him smirk.
“Don’t snuggle her like that,” Bryce grumbled with mock seriousness, nodding toward Kennedy. “Nashy-boy’s all territorial and shit. I’m not getting in the middle of you two if there’s a fight. It’s too early for that,” he said, winking at Kennedy to show he was only teasing.
“Eh. Nash knows Kennedy loves me.” Mitchell shrugged, keeping his arm firmly around her. “I can’t help that she settled for second best.”
Kennedy snorted, Bryce laughed, and I just shook my head.
This guy. Lucky he was my best friend or I’d smack him.
“Oh, Mitch.” Kennedy giggled. “How many cups of coffee have you had already?”
“Two. Maybe three,” he admitted with an exaggerated shrug.
“Missed me that much, huh?” I chuckled. “Bored out of your mind all by yourself?”
I hadn’t seen Mitch as much as I used to since Kennedy had moved in, except for at practice, games, or on our travels.
“I’m thinking he missed Kennedy, but what do I know?” Bryce teased, and Mitch laughed, clapping me on the back.
“That’s okay, I didn’t miss you either,” I shot back with a grin. “Kennedy kept me busy.”
Kennedy’s eyes widened, her cheeks turning pink as she dropped her gaze, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Damn,” Mitch muttered, shaking his head. “I can’t even say what I was thinking in front of Kennedy . . . but I’m glad she keeps you entertained.” The mischievous glint he threw my way only made me laugh harder.
Brunch carried on in the same teasing rhythm, and it felt good. Comfortable. Like things were going back to normal, at least in my personal life.
Hockey was another story.
And the frustrating part was that it wasn’t the hockey itself that was the issue anymore.
Josh was. I couldn’t figure out why he seemed to have it out for me.
Sure, he liked Kennedy—I knew that—but that couldn’t be the only reason he acted like he hated me.
Before she’d showed up, we’d gotten along fine.
Not best friends, but respectful teammates.
Now he could barely stand to be in the same room with me, and the constant tension made everything harder.
“Hey, Nash.”
We’d just finished brunch, and I was getting up to refill my coffee. Bryce caught my eye and gestured toward the balcony. Kennedy and Mitchell were wrapped up in a discussion about some TV show and not paying us any attention.
“What’s up?” I asked, stepping out onto the balcony, which was cold in the early March sunshine. The chill bit straight through my T-shirt, but Bryce didn’t seem bothered. The glass door slid shut behind us.
Bryce didn’t waste time. He’d always been a straight shooter, and I appreciated that about him. “I heard management’s looking into a trade.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, genuinely curious. I hadn’t heard anything about that, but then again, I’d been a little . . . distracted lately. Mostly by Kennedy. “Who?”
The hard look in his eyes caught me off guard. It took me a few seconds to realize what that meant.
Oh, fuck.
“Me?”
“Yeah.” He nodded once. “Or Sampson.”
“Shit.”
I glanced back inside. Kennedy was laughing at something Mitch had said, her head tipped back, completely oblivious to the storm brewing just a few feet away. Mitch, grinning at her like an idiot, wasn’t paying us any attention either. That, at least, eased some of the pressure weighing on me.
Dragging a hand over my face, I tried to calm the rush of thoughts crashing through my head. It was late in the season; the trade deadlines weren’t far off. I probably should’ve paid better attention to all those messages from my agent.
But I’d blown him off every damn time because all he’d talked about lately was my poor performance, my suspension, and the sponsorship I’d already lost. Two others had threatened to cut ties after the fight, and I just . . . couldn’t handle hearing it.
So I’d stopped answering him.
Which in hindsight was a real mature way of handling things.
Fuck.
“Is this widely known?” I asked Bryce.
“No,” he said. “I overheard management last night after practice.”
“Okay.”
It made sense on some level. I didn’t have to like it, but it made sense. Josh and I hadn’t been getting along—obviously—and it showed.
Even though we weren’t on the same forward line, the tension between us still bled into the locker room, practices, meetings . . . everything.
And now I wished I’d paid better attention to my contract and what had been happening around me.
My no-trade clause wasn’t absolute, I knew that, but I’d never imagined that I’d have to worry about the few conditions and loopholes.
Josh didn’t have one at all, but that didn’t make me any safer.
Not when we were both competing for the same roster spot.
And the salary cap . . . yeah, that didn’t help either.
I wasn’t cheap. Josh wasn’t either, but he sure as hell wasn’t as expensive as me.
Add in the rumors about my “behavioral issues” and suddenly it probably made a whole lot of sense for management to dump the perceived troublemaker for some kid from the AHL.
Someone younger. Hungrier. Cheaper. Someone without a trail of headlines and suspension notes attached to his name.
The ugly truth hit like a puck to the balls.
Ever since Kennedy had come back, I’d been so wrapped up in her that my performance had turned around. I’d finally gotten my head back on straight, and I’d thought we were past the trying period.
I guessed I’d been dead fucking wrong about that.
“Who’s the team? Do you know?” I asked Bryce.
“Nothing’s decided yet.”
That meant this next game wasn’t just about endorsements anymore. It was also about proving I deserved to stay with the Empires. That they should choose to keep me over Josh.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” Bryce said quietly. “Sorry, man. I know it’s a lot.”
A lot didn’t even begin to cover it. Shit had just gotten fucking real.
Here I’d thought the worst was over and all I had to worry about was keeping my endorsements. I’d finish out the season and finally get to enjoy some needed time off with Kennedy.
But if I was really up for a trade? Everything had just been blown wide open.
“How do I handle this?” I asked, looking to Bryce. He’d gotten traded against his will early in his career. He knew what it felt like. He was also older, with the kind of perspective I needed right now.
“All you can do is show you’re the bigger, more valuable player,” Bryce said firmly.
“Forget about whatever’s going on with Sampson.
Play like he’s just another guy in the league.
Prove to management that you’re a team player, that you want to be here, and that you belong here.
You have to show them you’re worth keeping, Nash. ”
“Okay,” I said with a groan. The realization of the situation I was in was hitting me hard.
And then there was Kennedy. She’d just gotten back to New York and was slowly moving her stuff into my apartment. She was so happy to be back. What if she didn’t want to follow me if I got traded? Were we supposed to try this whole long-distance shit again? Or would that be the end of us?
“Just play like you did the last few games. Keep your shit together, and whatever you do, do not let Sampson get to you.”
“Yeah. Okay. I get it.” It all made sense, but it raised the stakes even higher. This wasn’t just about playoffs anymore. I’d be playing for my career.
“One more thing,” Bryce added.
I groaned. “What the hell else?”
“You’ve got to keep everything together off the ice too. No more drunken bar pictures, no more fights. You need to show the owners—and the public—that you’ve got your shit together.”
“That part’s easy,” I said without hesitation. “Kennedy’s back, and I’m actually fucking happy for the first time in a long time.”
“I can tell, man.” Bryce gave me a firm nod. “Keep it that way. And remember—stay focused on the ice. All that matters is getting that puck in the net and keeping your head. Not who puts it there.” His stare held mine until I nodded.
“Okay,” I said, even though calm was the last thing I felt. I needed another big game, or I was about to face a serious shitstorm.