Chapter 22
MADDOX
AGE EIGHTEEN
Braxton opens her front door and lets me inside before pulling me in for a hug. I accept the affection eagerly, and when she pulls away, I kiss her cheek and slip my shoes off.
She has her glasses on today—a thick-rimmed, rounded pair she wears for reading—and her hair is pulled up into some messy-ass ball on the top of her head. I poke her nose and grin.
Even in a pair of baggy sweatpants and one of my sweatshirts, she manages to take my breath away.
“You look cute,” I say.
She swats my hand away from her face and rolls her eyes. “I was filling out university applications, not dressing to impress.”
Braxton’s sudden decision to wait a year after graduation to go to university instead of going this fall was a big one, and while she tries to deny it, I know it was because she was waiting to see where I ended up being drafted first. I did everything I could to convince her not to risk her future for me, but she was dead set on it, and one can only fight for something so hard before giving in, especially when the idea of her wanting to wait for me is selfishly everything I’ve ever wanted to hear.
“Who said you didn’t impress me?” I tease.
“Well, did I, then?” She spins in a circle, her arms flailing at her sides. When she comes to a stop, she cocks a brow at me.
“Always, Curly Fry.”
“Good answer. Now, come see my dad before he storms down here and gives us crap for getting distracted.”
I nod, but nerves swirl. Being summoned to your agent’s office at 5:00 p.m. on a Sunday isn’t really the best sign. The entire way here, I was trying to rack my brain for anything that I’ve done or said in the past few days to get me in shit, but nothing has stood out.
I’ve been a good boy, so to speak.
“Do you know what this is about?” I ask Braxton when we start toward the staircase. She moves up in front of me, suddenly way too tense. “Brax?”
“No. We haven’t talked much since you guys got back from the draft.”
That was a month ago. Knowing that the Heights usually have family dinners every Tuesday and Saturday night, I’m not sure whether I completely believe that. But this is my best friend. We don’t keep secrets.
“He hasn’t been happy? I’ve felt like I’m on cloud nine since we got back. I’m not so sure about the heat in Florida, but I’m nothing if not willing to try new things.”
That makes her laugh, albeit a bit forcefully. “You? Willing to try new things?”
We reach the second floor, and my stomach tumbles the closer we get to her father’s office. “Your sarcasm is so hurtful.”
“I’m not the one who refuses to try strawberry milk because chocolate is good enough or goes green at the idea of buying a pair of Adidas sneakers instead of Nikes.”
I scoff. “All I’m saying is why change a good thing? I love chocolate milk and Nikes. Why mess that up?”
“It’s just milk and shoes. It’s not like shaving your head or waxing your eyebrows.”
“I actually think I could be down for waxing my eyebrows. They’re a bit bushy these days.”
She giggles and stops in front of a closed door, looking over her shoulder at me. I memorize the sight of her timid grin and rosy cheeks.
“Your eyebrows are fine,” she says.
I kiss the side of her head. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get this over with and then go get some ice cream. I’ve had a craving for a strawberry-cheesecake Blizzard from Dairy Queen since I woke up.”
She laughs softly, knocking on the door. “Dairy Queen it is, then.”
“Come in,” Roy orders, and I gulp as Braxton opens the door and we step inside the office. Her dad is sitting behind his desk, his usual scowl pulling at his mouth. “Please, sit.”
I collapse on the sofa and watch him cautiously. Braxton sits beside me, too far for my liking, but I know that’s all because of her dad. He’s never liked seeing us too close together. It’s always bugged me, but considering he’s fingers-deep in my NHL career, I’ve kept my mouth shut.
“Braxton, you don’t have to be here. I’m sure your mother would like some help with watering all those flowers of hers out back,” he says.
Suspicion blares, and my hackles rise. Clearing my throat, I say, “I would prefer her here, actually.”
“I can go, Maddox. It’s okay.” Braxton starts to rise from the couch, but I lightly grab her wrist, stopping her.
“Stay. Please.”
She sits back down.
“Very well,” her dad grinds out. His hands are clasped and resting on his desk, and my eyes are drawn to the lack of wedding band on his left hand.
My parents have been married for nearly twenty years, and I’ve never seen either of them without their wedding rings. Their marriage has been happy—more than, really—but Braxton’s parents have not had the same type of relationship. They’re married on paper, nothing more.
“I want to discuss something with you, Maddox. Something that I think will be beneficial to your career in the long run, not just the present,” Roy starts. I nod once. “Florida isn’t where you belong. I think you know that just as well as I do.”
“I never pictured myself in Florida, but it’s not like I would be stuck there forever,” I say.
“Right. But in that time, who’s to say you don’t get injured? Your father was injured early in his career.”
I sit up straighter at the mention of Dad. “My dad played for his dream team and gave a thousand percent of himself every single game for years. What happened to him was unlucky. The odds of that happening to me are low.”
His jaw pulses, and I sink back into the couch. “What I’m trying to get at is that the future is unpredictable. You were the number one pick. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours about the toxic locker room energy in Florida. Not to mention the coach is a blubbering idiot.”
Everyone has heard about the team energy in Florida. Dad has already had this talk with me to help prepare me for what I could be walking into, but at the end of the day, I would only be there for three years until my entry contract is up.
“It wouldn’t be forever,” I say, holding firm.
He exhales slowly, like he’s trying to keep his calm.
“Florida doesn’t need you, Maddox. They have two solid top lines, and you’ll be lucky to see more than five minutes of ice time a game as the team stands right now.
I don’t say this to take a crap on you here, but you’ll be forgotten if you sign with Florida.
By the time your entry-level contract is up, you’ll be lucky to get traded to a top team.
That means a much lower offer on your next contract. ”
I swallow, my unease growing and growing and growing. This isn’t going at all how I thought it would today. Dad would lose his shit if he knew what was happening.
“Roy, if we’re serious about this, I need my dad here. What you’re talking about doing is something my old man has instilled in me never to do. I can’t just agree on the spot.”
He scowls so deep he looks downright pissed off. “Look, kid. I have Florida’s contract on my desk right now. If you want to sign it, we will right now. But I’m telling you as both your agent and your best friend’s father that you will regret it,” he says, voice firm, almost angry.
I look at Braxton beside me, quickly taking in her tight posture and the way she’s watching me with guarded blue eyes. My worry is instant.
Flicking my eyes back to her dad, I ask, “So, what exactly are you suggesting I do? Turn down Florida and take my chances at getting picked up by another team before the season starts, or re-enter the draft next year?”
Neither of those options is ideal. Not in the slightest. In reality, they can be career killers.
“I think we can find you a much better team before the season starts. Vancouver is an option. Their interest is blaring. It has been since you were fifteen. I think if given the right chance, they’ll jump at you.”
A small spark of hope grows inside of me. “And if they don’t? Then I have to go through this entire process again? What if I end up right back in this situation? The risk is too much.”
“I think it would be worth it,” he states confidently.
Overwhelmed, I focus on Braxton again. The girl I love is right here beside me, and this is going to be her future just as much as it will be mine. Her opinion means everything to me.
“What do you think about this? Is this the right move, Curly? Because you know I can’t do the wrong thing here,” I mutter softly, reaching for the hand she has on her thigh, taking it in mine.
Her lips part slowly, and her answer surprises me enough I have to do a double take.
“I think my dad is right. Florida isn’t for you.”
“Yo—you’re sure?” I stutter. Fucking stutter.
She nods. “You deserve better. You deserve the best.”
“I could have the best later on. I don’t need it right away.”
“But if you could have it, why wouldn’t you just take the chance?” she whispers.
My chest is tight. The room feels suffocating despite the large size of it. My gut tells me to call my dad to get his perspective. He would know what to do better than anyone, but at the same time, this is my career. My future. It should be up to me and the girl I hope is there for all of it.
“You’re sure?” I ask her.
Her eyes fall to our hands, and she mutters a shaky “Yes.”
I squeeze her fingers and meet Roy’s stare.
“Okay. Get it done.”