Ligaya:You’re right.Hey, great game tonight.
Knowing she stayed up to finish the game makes me smile.
Me:I like it when you admit I’m right.
Ligaya:Don’t get used to it. I think I pulled a muscle texting the words.
My grin widens as I text:Need a massage?
Connor walks up to his locker beside mine. “Are those goals getting you laid tonight?” he asks.
“Not your business,” I say but wait impatiently for Ligaya’s response because yes, I’d very much like to come home to her tonight. Every night, actually.
Ligaya:Maybe tomorrow? We could grab a bite after the ultrasound if you’re free. But it will have to be a quick one since there’s rehearsal at six.
I get a familiar spark of irritation at how much Ligaya pushes herself. It’s useless to complain, though, since she always rolls her eyes when I bring up the topic of hiring someone to take over the play. Knowing she’s exhausted all the time is freaking killing me.
However, asking her to sit out the play is motivated by another, more selfish reason. Her work and rehearsals never line up well with my practices and weekend games. I’ve seen her three times in the last month. It’s frustrating as fuck. I bite down my disappointment.
Me:Sounds good. See you tomorrow.
My phone buzzes. It’s Chris, my agent. I step into the hallway to take it.
“You made my night,” he says without saying hello. “Great game. Front office in Denver saw it, too. They’ll come calling.”
“What? That’s not what we talked about, Chris. I said reach out to upper management in Columbus.”
In January, during our West Coast stint, I met Chris for lunch in Los Angeles. He congratulated me on the news about the twins, so he knows exactly why I want to stay in Ohio.
“You know how this works, kid. I put my feelers out to everyone. Now that you’re producing, I’m getting a lot of interest.”
“I want Columbus. Make it happen.” My blood pressure is higher than any time I was on the ice. I can’t wait to tell Ligaya that the rest of my hockey career will be in Ohio.
But first, I need to get the damn contract.
“Let me do my job, Tristan,” he says with a hardened edge. “I know you want to be there for your baby mama.”
“Ligaya. Call her by her name.”
“Yes, sorry. Ligaya and the twins are your priority. But what kind of provider will you be if you don’t secure the best multi-year contract possible? You can’t be on a rental basis with Columbus. If they want you to stay, they need to pay the fuck up.”
Damn it, he’s right. A professional player rarely stays at this level after thirty-five. I started my career with a six-year contract, which is why I’ve had an NHL salary despite playing for Denver’s minor league team. Columbus only matched it for one season.
“You know what I want, Chris.”
“Yes. But I also know what youneed. Let me handle things. Let me do my job. Celebrate those two goals and make sure there’s more where they came from.”
When I hang up, I’m in no mood to celebrate.
CHAPTER 36
TRISTAN
I’m hit by the smell of charred meat before I even open the door to Chuck’s Roadhouse, a restaurant within walking distance of my apartment. When I first moved to Columbus before the beginning of the season, I ate here at least once a week, slightly addicted to the heavily seared, perfectly pink, medium rare T-bone. No onions, no sauce, no mushrooms. Meat and fire in pure harmony.
Radek and I slide into a booth. He’s still a sore loser, but it’s hard to resist a perfect steak. The vinyl seats sag in the middle, the table’s got one leg shorter than the others so it tilts if I lean too hard. Radek looks around doubtfully at first, but he’ll be a convert as soon as the food hits the table.
Before we even get our hands on the menus, Gretchen shows up, ready to take our orders.
