20. Dax
DAX
I 'm staring at my phone like it just grew fucking tentacles and started doing the Macarena.
The number on the screen belongs to Frank Russo, Boston's GM, and considering I turned them down less than forty-eight hours ago, this call either means they're gluttons for punishment or something's changed.
"Answer it," Tessa says from beside me on the couch, where we've been celebrating our victory with pizza and terrible reality TV. She’s got my Renegades hoodie on again, the hem barely skimming her thighs, hair tumbling down like she didn’t even bother with a brush—and somehow it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"Famous last words," I mutter, but I swipe to answer anyway. "Russo. This is unexpected."
"Dax!" His voice booms through the speaker, way too cheerful for someone who just got rejected. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
I glance at Tessa, who's paused our show mid-episode and is watching me with those hazel eyes that are currently more green than gold. Which means she's curious, not panicked. Good sign.
"Just enjoying some downtime with my girlfriend," I say, testing the word. It still feels surreal to say it out loud, officially, without worrying about who might be listening.
"About that—congratulations. Word travels fast in this league, and what you two did, standing up to that Harrison situation? That took real character. Real leadership."
Tessa's eyebrows shoot up. She can hear every word since I've got the volume cranked.
"Thanks," I say carefully. "Though I'm not sure why you're calling to congratulate me on my relationship status."
Russo laughs. "Because it changes everything. See, when we made that initial offer, we were working under different assumptions. We thought you were single, career-focused, ready to relocate without complications."
"And now?"
"Now we know you're the kind of man who chooses love over ambition, who stands by his principles even when it costs him. That's exactly the character we want leading our organization."
Tessa grabs my free hand, squeezing tight. Her touch grounds me, keeps me from getting swept up in whatever sales pitch is coming.
"What are you saying, Russo?"
"I'm saying Boston wants to make this work for both of you. New offer, improved terms, full consideration for Dr. Bennett's career."
My heart does this stupid stuttering thing. "I'm listening."
"Twenty percent salary increase over our original offer. Five-year fully guaranteed contract. Assistant coaching position secured for post-retirement. Full relocation package for both you and Dr. Bennett, including job placement assistance."
Jesus Christ. Those numbers are making my head spin.
"And here's the kicker," Russo continues, "official acknowledgment of your relationship. No hiding, no pretending, no corporate policies forcing you underground. We've done our research on Dr. Bennett—her work speaks for itself. We'd be honored to have both of you join the Bruins family."
I look at Tessa, who's gone completely pale. Her mouth is slightly open, and she's staring at me like I just told her we won the lottery.
"That's... that's a generous offer," I manage.
"It's what happens when you impress people by doing the right thing. Your principled stand didn't hurt your value, Dax—it increased it. Teams want leaders with character, and you just proved you've got both in spades."
"Can I have some time to think about this?"
"Of course. But I'll be honest—this offer expires tomorrow at noon. We need to move fast if we're going to make this happen before the trade deadline."
After he hangs up, Tessa and I sit in silence for approximately three seconds before she explodes.
"Holy shit, Dax! They basically just offered you everything you've ever wanted plus official recognition of our relationship!"
"Yeah." I'm still processing, my brain trying to catch up with what just happened. "That's... that's not what I expected."
"This validates everything we chose! They saw us fight for what we believed in and decided they wanted that kind of integrity in their organization." She's practically vibrating with excitement. "This is huge!"
"It is huge." I set my phone down and turn to face her fully. "But it's also complicated."
"How is it complicated? They're literally offering to solve every problem we thought this relationship would cause for your career."
"Because now I have to actually decide what I want more—the childhood dream job in Boston, or building something real here in Chicago with you."
Tessa's excitement dims slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean Boston is three thousand miles away from everything we've built here. From the team that had our backs when Harrison tried to destroy us. From your life, your career, your apartment where you organize spice racks and make coffee that doesn't taste like motor oil."
"Dax—"
"And yeah, they're offering job placement assistance, but let's be real—you'd be starting over. New colleagues, new relationships, new everything. After what happened in Seattle, after what we just went through here, are you really ready to uproot your life again for my dream?"
She's quiet for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip the way she does when she's thinking hard about something.
"What if I am?" she says finally. "What if I want to build something new with you, somewhere that celebrates us instead of tolerating us?"
"And what if you hate it? What if you end up resenting me for dragging you across the country for my career?"
"Or what if it's amazing? What if this is exactly the fresh start we both need?"
I reach for her, pulling her closer until she's curled against my side. She smells like my shampoo and that vanilla candle she burns when she's stressed, and I want to bottle this moment—this feeling of having her here, safe, ours.
"I need to talk to the team," I say finally. "And my family. This affects more than just us."
"I know."
"But whatever we decide, we decide together."
"Together," she agrees, then looks up at me with mischief in those hazel eyes. "Though for the record, if we move to Boston, I'm keeping the good coffee maker."
"Deal. Though I draw the line at alphabetizing the spice rack."
"We'll negotiate."
An hour later, I'm standing in front of the entire team in our makeshift meeting room—which is really just the players' lounge with all the chairs arranged in a circle like we're about to start a fucking therapy session.
"So," Jamie says, because of course he's the one to break the ice, "Russo called back."
"With a better offer," I confirm, still processing the whole thing myself.
Luca Cruz whistles low. "How much better?"
"Twenty percent salary increase. Five-year guarantee. Assistant coaching position locked in for post-retirement." I pause, saving the best for last. "And official relationship recognition. No hiding, no corporate policies."
The room erupts in a chorus of "holy shit" and "no fucking way" that would make our media coordinator have an aneurysm.
"Wait," Chase leans forward in his chair. "They're actually offering to acknowledge your relationship with Doc Bennett? Like, officially?"
"That's what they said."
"Dude," Austin, our enforcer, shakes his head. "That's huge. Most teams would make you choose between the relationship and the contract."
"Which is exactly why I'm talking to you guys about it," I say. "This affects more than just me."
"How?" Alexei, our Russian winger, asks in his heavily accented English. "Is your choice, no?"
"It's my choice, but you're my family. And if I leave, it changes things for everyone."
Jamie stands up, because the man can't have a serious conversation while sitting down. "Okay, let's break this down. Pros and cons time."
"Pros," Luca starts. "It's the fucking Boston Bruins. Childhood dream team. Better money. Better contract security."
"Assistant coaching position means career stability after retirement," Chase adds. "That's huge in this league."
"And they want both of you," Austin points out. "Not many organizations would make that kind of commitment to a player's personal life."
"Cons," Jamie takes over. "You'd be leaving Chicago right when we're hitting our stride. New team, new systems, new chemistry to build."
"Also," Luca's voice gets more serious, "we just went through hell together with the Harrison situation. Feels weird to bail right after we all had each other's backs."
"That's not fair," I protest. "This has nothing to do with bailing."
"Doesn't it though?" Alexei asks quietly. "We fight together, win together, then you leave for better offer?"
Fuck. When he puts it like that, it sounds terrible.
"Look," Chase, ever the voice of reason, leans back in his chair. "None of us want to lose you, Dax. But this is your career, your future. If you don't take opportunities when they come, you might not get another chance."
"But what about what I want?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. "What if what I want isn't necessarily what's best for my career?"
The room goes quiet. These guys are used to hearing me talk about hockey strategy and defensive positioning, not feelings and wants.
"What do you want?" Jamie asks quietly.
"I want to wake up next to Tessa every morning and fall asleep next to her every night. I want to build something real here, in Chicago, with the team that had my back when everything went to shit. I want to win a Cup with you assholes and retire knowing I was part of something special."
"But?" Austin prompts, because he can clearly hear the but in my voice.
"But I also want to be smart about the future.
I want financial security for my family.
I want to know that when I'm done playing, I have something lined up.
" I run both hands through my hair. "And maybe part of me wants to prove I can succeed anywhere, not just here where everything's comfortable. "