Whitney opens her mouth to say something, but I put my hand up to stop her. “Actually, there is something.”
Lennon sets her beer down and rubs her hands together. “Let’s hear it.”
But at that moment, a picture on the TV catches my attention. It’s Brock.
“Oh my god.” I reach for the remote and turn the volume up.
“Really? You’re gonna make me wait for this?” Lennon complains.
“Shhh.” My eyes glue to the television.
“We just got a report that the San Francisco Infernos have traded first-string center, Brock Allen, to the Florida Fury in exchange for goalie Preston Meadowvale in a first-round draft pick.”
My hand flies to my mouth and my eyes widen. My stomach feels like it’s in my feet.
Brock’s been traded? To the other side of the country?
My shaking hand sets my wineglass down before I spill it.
“What’s going on, Kels. Are you okay?” Whitney asks. She scootches closer and sets her hand on my back, drawing me out of my shock.
“I can’t believe they traded him.”
“Brock Allen?” Lennon asks. “Jasper really likes that guy. He’s always saying how it’s a shame he doesn’t have a better team behind him, otherwise the team as a whole would be doing much better.”
“There weren’t even any rumors that he was going to be traded.” I continue speaking as if I’m talking to myself.
“Wait a minute…” Lennon pauses. “This is what you were going to tell us. You’ve totally been getting dicked down by Brock Allen, haven’t you?”
My shoulders sag and tears prick my eyes. What is this going to mean for us?
Whitney spears Lennon with a shut the hell up look and rubs my back. “Are you going to tell us what’s going on?”
“I can’t believe this.” My shock making me unable to work this all out in my head.
My phone rings from my purse in the kitchen, but I’m too stunned to get up and get it. I know it will be Brock. Did he know this might happen?
There are so many questions floating through my head right now that I can’t keep them straight.
“Girl, you gotta tell us what happened.” Lennon’s voice is full of concern now, all jesting set aside.
And so, I do tell them. Everything from the very beginning. By the time I’m done, I yearn for his arms to hold me. To tell me that this isn’t over.
“Do you love him?” Lennon asks when I’m done.
“I…” I’m not sure what to say. The truth is, I do. And I’ve known for a while. I’ve wanted to tell Brock but I’ve been waiting for a signal that he felt the same. “I do, yeah. But he doesn’t know yet.”
“You’re pretty quiet,” Lennon says to Whitney.
She frowns. “I just don’t know why you didn’t feel like you could tell us about you two. We would have kept it to ourselves.”
I reach over and take her hand, needing her to understand, although the hurt in her eyes is evident.
“Didn’t you tell me you and Cole snuck around for a while when you first got together?”
Guilt floods her features.
“I just liked us in our bubble. I guess I was afraid to see what might happen if we left it.”
She squeezes my hand. “I get it. Sorry for making it about me.”
“No, I’d probably feel the same. But now he’s moving across the country!” I burst into tears and my friends console me for a few minutes until I work the nerve up to do what I know I need to.
I have to go see Brock. And I’ve never been so scared of losing anything in all my life.
14
Brock
I sit on my couch staring at the floor, hands pushed into my hair. My body is numb and my mind is both reeling and completely blank, which is a mindfuck all of its own. It’s like there are a million things swirling through my brain, but I can’t latch on to one.
It still doesn’t feel real. I can’t believe they traded me.
My agent called a few days ago to say that he’d heard rumblings and wanted to get my thoughts. I told him I didn’t want to go anywhere. Sure, the Infernos were struggling in recent months, but I liked our roster of guys. We might not make the playoffs this year, but I felt like with a couple of years of rebuilding, it could happen.
That fucking salary cap came to bite me in the ass. With my salary, there is no way the Infernos can afford to rebuild the team. Not in any big-change way. And the Florida Fury are in a good position to make the playoffs this year, and with me now on the team, they probably have it sealed.
“Damn it!” I shouted out to no one.
I’d opted to negotiate more money on my last contract in lieu of a no-trade clause, something I’m thoroughly regretting at this moment. But I was younger and unattached then. The idea that the worst thing that could happen would be to have to pick up and move mattered less to me than more dollars in my bank account.
But that was all before Kelsey.
I’d tried calling her, and she didn’t pick up. I knew she was out with her friends tonight. But knowing how involved she is in her job, she’ll find some way of keeping tabs on the players coming and going from teams. She never wants to be outmatched in her knowledge. Which means she probably knows about me.
I bolt up from the couch when there’s a knock on my door. I swing it open without looking to see, somehow sensing it’s her on the other side.
She stands in the hallway, her bottom lip trembling, eyes puffy. My immediate reaction is to pull her into my chest and hold her.
Kelsey wraps her arms around me and holds tight. “I can’t believe this. Did you know?” Her voice is hoarse.
I set her back from me with my hands on her shoulders. “No. My agent said Florida was sniffing around a few days ago, but I said I wasn’t interested. I didn’t think it would go anywhere.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes. “You should have told me.”
I push a hand through my hair. “Maybe. I don’t think forty-eight hours’ notice would have made a difference though. I honestly didn’t think I was going anywhere. Not to say much, but as you know, not a lot of teams would take my salary.” I motion for her to come all the way into the condo and follow her to the living area.
She plops down on the couch, elbows on her knees and face in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re moving.”
My chest constricts from the hurt in her voice, and I sit down beside her, forcing her hands from her face.
She looks over at me, and we stare at each other. I get the sense that we’re both afraid to ask what this means for us. That once we start the conversation, it’ll be the beginning of the end.
“When do you leave?” she asks.
A long stream of air leaves my lips. “I fly out first thing in the morning. Have to be there to skate with the team tomorrow afternoon. First game with the Fury is the day after.”
She purses her lips and nods. “Florida’s not such a bad place. You’ll get some color.” She reaches out and brushes her fingertips down my cheek.
I catch her wrist and kiss her palm. “The weather doesn’t compare to you.”