Rafe flushes. “No, not at all. There are draft picks you can negotiate for as well. That’s something I’d figure you’d do. I’ll forfeit my salary to make it more appealing to the Cold Fury if that’s what it takes.”
Christ. He’s dead serious.
I consider his request, realizing I could get all the Cold Fury’s draft picks but it would still be a losing proposition for me. Rafe is playing hot right now. He effortlessly stepped into Tacker’s shoes, and he’s playing at the same caliber on the second line right now. Everyone tends to focus on the star players, but Rafe is someone who is probably more of a clutch player than any of the first line men because he has the ability to move back and forth between the two.
“I need to think about it,” I say. It’s all I can offer right now because no matter how bad I feel for the dude, I have people I answer to.
I answer to the other players on this team.
To the board.
More than anything, I answer to the fans.
Rafe nods, and I’m grateful for the acceptance on his face. I know he didn’t expect an answer right this minute, which would have been impossible.
“I’ll get you an answer soon,” I promise, casting a last glance at the treadmill.
No time for a workout now. I have stuff to do.
CHAPTER 4
Dominik
“Let me go make some phone calls.” I clap my hand on Rafe’s shoulder. Squeeze. “And again… I’m really sorry. Anything I can do for you personally?”
“Got a cure for cancer?” he asks, his lips curving slightly.
My return smile is regretful. “I’m afraid not. I’ll be praying for him, though.”
“Thanks,” Rafe says with a nod.
I give his shoulder another squeeze before turning away. As I walk through the facility, I catch Bishop’s eye. He lifts his chin in a way that isn’t a greeting but more of an “I need to talk to you”. I divert, head his way, and note the rest of the first line pulling in around him.
Clearly, they all know what’s going on with Rafe.
“What are you going to do?” Bishop asks as I join them.
The rest of the men huddle into a circle. Tacker is to my left—the big, reclusive, and previously broken center who lost his fiancée in a plane crash. Until recently, he’d been emotionally and physically absent from the team, but he’s back now.
On his other side is his best friend, Aaron Wylde. Preeminent defenseman we just acquired a month ago and the team’s man whore. I respect that.
Beside Wylde is Erik, the other defenseman and the team’s former man whore. Not sure what it is about our defenders and the correlation to being “players,” but there it is. Erik’s settled down now, so apparently Wylde must carry on the tradition.
Directly across from me is Bishop, the team’s captain and fiancé to the coach’s daughter, Brooke Perron. Beside him is Legend, the team’s goalie and the most recent player to fall into the marriage market. He married his former neighbor, Pepper, a few weeks ago in a no-frills ceremony at the courthouse. And finally, to complete the first line, Dax… star left-winger and brother to the incredibly gorgeous, frustratingly elusive Willow Monahan.
I give my attention to Bishop to address his question. “Clearly you know what’s going on with Rafe.”
“He called me this morning when he heard from his mom,” Bishop confirms. “I told my brothers.”
I’ll never admit it aloud, but there’s a welling of pride within me that he calls his line mates his brothers. It’s why we’re going to win the Cup this year—because these men have something that’s not teachable or trainable. A bond that gives us that extra edge. In my humble opinion, at least.
“Well, I’m on my way to my office to work on this,” I reassure them, meeting each of their eyes. “But I’d like your thoughts on the matter.”
“Rafe has proved himself crucial to this team,” Tacker says. He knows this more than anyone since Rafe stepped in to fill his big shoes when he got suspended. “Frankly… I don’t think he’s replaceable.”
“A trade isn’t going to yield anything,” I say, pointing out the obvious. They know anyone traded after the deadline that expired in February isn’t eligible to play.
“We do have some good talent in the minors who can come close,” Legend states.
With a sigh, I put on my owner’s hat and give it to them straight. “As owner of this team, I can tell you if I let him go, it would be a horrible business decision. It could change the course of our run at the Cup.”
“But…” Bishop prods, because he’s probably got a fairly good idea I’m about more than the bottom-line dollars.
“But…” I push on with a sigh. “How do I stand in the way of a guy and his dying father?”
“You don’t,” Wylde says, and his tone raises the hairs on the nape of my neck. The normally happy-go-lucky, mischievous party animal wears a haunted expression. “Trust me when I say… he needs this time with his dad.”
I nod at Wylde, a subtle acknowledgment that while I have no experience with a dying parent, I know what it’s like not to have a parent at all.
“Let me ask you this.” I glance around at the group. “If you knew giving up Rafe would cause us to lose the Cup, would you let him go?”
Without hesitation, they all answer in the affirmative. They’d let him go in a heartbeat.
And fuck… that makes me proud, too. “You guys are all a bunch of pansies,” I mutter with a great deal of affection.
I’ve got some work to do. Swiveling away from the men, my intention is to call Coach Perron and have him and my general manager, Christian Rutherford, meet me in my office. I catch Dax’s eyes, and it’s obvious he’s perplexed. There’s no doubt he wants to dislike me.
But I can tell I’ve impressed him with my intent to try to help Rafe if I can.
Whatever. It’s not my end goal, but I’m glad he’s realizing I might be more than just a suit when it comes to this team.
♦
It’s not easy getting the general manager of a professional hockey team on the telephone without a preset appointment, but there is some clout in being a team owner. Normally, talks like this would work general manager to general manager, but, in this instance, I want to cut through the back and forth. Time is of the utmost essence.
So when I called Gray Brannon’s secretary and told her who I was and it was urgent I talk with her, the secretary wasted no time informing me that although she was in a board meeting, she would go get her immediately.
Gray Brannon is the general manager for the Carolina Cold Fury. They are two-time Cup champions, and they have their sights set on a third.
Of course, my team is going to be standing directly in their way if I have anything to do with it.
Gray is a phenomenon in our industry. The only female general manager and the most successful—regardless of gender—in recent sports history. I’d only met her once when the Vengeance expansion team was approved by the league, but I’ve followed her career closely. She’s a shrewd manager with an intellect that frankly can’t be rivaled by anyone in this industry.