45
Kennedy
The Empires won both their away game and their home game that Monday night.
Nash played well, but so did Josh, unfortunately.
Well, it wasn’t unfortunate for the team, because he scored, but it was for Nash.
The tension between them was getting worse.
We weren’t sure, but we assumed that Josh was aware of the potential of being cut from the team, just like Nash was.
That uncertainty hung over everything. For Nash, the possibility of being traded affected him more than he let on. And if it happened, there was always a chance, even if small, that he wouldn’t get to play.
The pressure at home was at an all-time high.
Nash didn’t talk about it, but I knew him too well to miss the signs.
Even so, I was surprised when I found him at the kitchen island later that night, hunched over his laptop.
He looked up at me and smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his gorgeous green eyes.
He looked exhausted, much more so than he had the night before.
I crossed the room, kissed his forehead softly, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
“Are you doing okay, Nash?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Yeah, I’m—”
“Nash, don’t lie,” I cut him off gently, hugging him tighter. “Not to me. Together, remember? Tell me what’s going on.”
He exhaled slowly, leaning back so he could brush his lips against mine, his gaze lifting to meet me.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted quietly.
“What are you doing?” I asked instead, nodding toward the laptop. “It’s late, and you look exhausted. Shouldn’t you be going to bed?”
“Yeah. I was just going over some numbers . . .” He dragged his hands over his face, a clear sign that whatever numbers he’d been staring at weren’t giving him any peace.
“Numbers? Like financial numbers?”
“Yeah.” His expression shifted, becoming almost embarrassed.
My chest tightened. “Nash, are you worried about money? Or about losing your contract? What is it specifically? You must’ve made enough to live off for the rest of your life with all the endorsements and everything? Right?”
The truth was, I had no idea what his net worth was, and I didn’t care. I only knew he made millions every year playing hockey, and that didn’t include the endorsement deals. All those fancy commercials and magazine ads . . .
“I was just trying to figure out how long we could keep living like this before the money runs out,” he admitted finally.
“Nash!” I gasped. “This isn’t all on you! I have money too, you know. Nowhere near what you’ve got, obviously, but I’ll get a job. I make a decent salary . . . you know, at least for normal people.”
That got a low chuckle out of him, which loosened the knot in my chest.
“We’ll be fine, Kennedy. We can live comfortably, like this, off what I already have in my accounts for the rest of our lives. But without hockey . . . without my career, I can’t promise you we can do whatever we want.”
“Okay.” I pulled out the stool beside him and sat, realizing this wasn’t a quick reassurance conversation. “What do you mean by whatever we want? We have what we need, don’t we?”
“Yeah, but world travel, a mansion, a yacht—”
I grimaced. “A yacht? Do you even know how to drive a boat?”
“No . . .”
“Are those things you want, Nash? A mansion and a yacht?”
He shook his head. “No, not really, but—”
“Nash,” I cut him off. “Then what are you worried about? Because all that,” I said, waving toward the spreadsheets glowing on his laptop, “isn’t what I need or want.
You know better than that. I don’t care if we live in an apartment in New York City, a mansion in LA, a log cabin in Colorado, or some tiny shack in upstate New York.
None of that matters to me. I just want you, Nash. With or without your money.”
His throat worked as he swallowed, eyes shadowed but soft. “So, if I get traded, you’ll come with me?”
“Yes,” I answered immediately. “Of course I will.”
His face relaxed a little, a small smile tugging at his mouth, but there was still reservation in his eyes.
“I love that you said that, I do, but—”
“No.” I shook my head firmly, cutting him off again before he started with new excuses.
“No buts. Tell me what you’re really worried about.
For real this time.” I searched his face, the dark circles, the redness in his eyes, my heart aching at the exhaustion etched there.
That he’d had sleepless nights was obvious.
The pressure of the games and the weight of the trade rumors were eating at him. And then something inside me clicked.
“I’m guessing you’re scared there’s a chance you’ll never play again?”
I watched as his shoulders slumped, his whole frame seeming to deflate right in front of me.
He turned his head away, but not before I caught the shimmer of tears in his eyes.
My heart clenched as I realized that was really it.
He was worried that he was losing his entire career.
This wasn’t about money, being traded, or having to move.
This was him being terrified of losing hockey altogether.
“Nash,” I began, forcing my voice to stay calm and steady even though I felt nothing like it. Seeing him doubting himself, questioning if this was it, was enough to make me want to cry, but I recognized that it was my turn to be the strong one. He needed me this time.
“There is no way you’ll never play again,” I said firmly. “You’re too big of a star. You can single-handedly change a game. You’re the driving force behind every team you’ve ever played for, and you’ve always been at the top of every assist and scoring chart.”
“Not now.”
I exhaled slowly. I’d known he’d say that. His stats weren’t what they used to be, but they were on their way back up.
He just refused to see it.
“What does Tim say about it?” I asked softly, wanting his agent’s take.
Nash had turned twenty-six, not old for hockey but not young and cheap anymore either. He’d told me his contract had a no-trade clause, but not a full one; there were loopholes.
He let out a shaky breath.
“He keeps telling me not to panic, that guys like me always land on their feet, but—” His voice cracked.
“Every time he calls, it’s the same shit.
He hasn’t heard anything definite and he tells me to prepare .
. . and I try, Ken, but I’m not sure how to do it.
When I got traded from St. Louis it was something I wanted, and I knew it was coming.
This is different.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I’m so damn tired of pretending I’m okay with it.
I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to leave the Empires.
And I definitely don’t want to lose . . .
” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to lose us. ”
“Nash . . .”
My heart ached at the look on his face. At everything he feared he could lose. He had a life here. A home. His best friends. I needed him to understand he wouldn’t lose me. That I’d be steady in the storm.
I cupped his jaw, forcing him to look at me.
“It’s me and you, Nash. I go where you go,” I said, keeping my tone steady. “And you’re not losing hockey either. Not like this. It’s been your life since we were kids. Why are you doubting yourself now?”
His eyes met mine then, glassy and raw, and the sight of it felt like a stab to the heart.
“That’s just it, Kennedy,” he said hoarsely. “Hockey is my life. It’s always been my life. I don’t even know who I am without it.”
Oh no.
“Oh, Nash,” I said. “I know exactly who you are. You’re the same man you’ve always been—the man I love, with or without hockey.
Always have and always will. You’re kind, protective, and stubborn as hell, and you love fiercely.
We’re a team, you and me. And one day we’ll have our own little team.
” My lips curved into a small smile at the thought of having children with Nash, even though there was an ache in my chest. “You’ll be an incredible husband and father, Nash.
And if you don’t play hockey, then you’ll coach, or sit behind a desk on TV breaking down plays as one of those hockey analysts. ”
I shook my head. “But honestly? I can’t see the Empires letting you go over Josh.
And I’m not just saying that because I love you.
You’re more valuable overall, you’re the better center, and you’re a fan favorite.
That counts too.” Maybe not as much as the salary cap, but I didn’t say that because it wasn’t exactly going to help my pep talk.
Nash’s gaze softened. “I love you, Kennedy.”
“I love you, Nash. So very, very much.”
The smile he gave me was faint, but it was the squeeze of his hand around mine that told me what I needed to know: no matter what happened, we’d be okay.
“Mitch and Bryce agree with me, right?” I asked gently. “They don’t think management will cut you either?”
“Yeah,” he admitted with a nod. “They agree.”
Relief trickled through me. “Good. Okay, then, what’s our plan? How do we make sure they pick you?”
He shrugged. “I guess I just have to play better and stay out of trouble.”
“You’re playing great, Nash,” I said firmly. “And staying out of trouble shouldn’t be an issue . . . right?”
“Not unless Josh makes it one,” he said, a little venom in his tone.
My stomach dropped. “Could he? Is there something he has on you that you still haven’t told me?”
“No, Kennedy. Not like that.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “But he could talk to management, make his case. He’s got all those pictures of me at the bar drinking and fighting when I shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”
“He was there too,” I reminded him quickly. “That’s how he got the pictures.”
“I know. But what if . . .” He let the rest of the question hang there.
I reached for his arm. “We’ve got a recording. You can let them hear the conversation he had with me.”
That finally pulled a real smile from him.
“And if for some reason they trade you, we go together. We start over in that new place together. You and me, Nash. Okay?”
He leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to my lips, and whispered, “Okay. Let’s go to bed. I want to forget about this for now.”