Deep down, Daniel knew it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t connected with the team the way everyone had hoped he would at the start of the season. In his opinion, the Thunder had been so beaten down the last few seasons, very few players on the team even wanted to be there anymore. They weren’t willing to give it their all because it felt like a wasted effort. Night after night walking into an arena flooded with fans from the opposing team. Being jeered by the home crowd. No player who loved this game could ignore that forever. Either the arena was half empty or, if it was full, the people in the stands weren’t cheering for the Thunder. That was really rough on the ego.
With Demetrius gone to the Monarchs, Daniel’s connection to the team felt even more tenuous. Despite the improvement in his relationship with Cedric over the last few months, reaching an understanding was one thing—actually bonding as teammates was quite another. Cedric had relaxed enough to occasionally joke with Daniel in the dressing room, but whatever camaraderie they’d developed seemed tentative at best.
The biggest issue was, no one could possibly feel secure on a team that might be one loss away from being axed from the league. Poor ticket sales, miserable stats, disconnected players. There’d come a time when the NHL decided the Thunder weren’t worth the investment or financial losses anymore. They’d sell the franchise to another city or shut it down entirely, the players would scatter to the four winds, and the Thunder would become just another defunct hockey team listed in an entry on Wikipedia. End of story.
But Daniel didn’t want this to be the end of his story, too. He wasn’t ready to quit hockey. The sport had been such a huge part of his identity since childhood. He didn’t know what or who he’d be without it. But there were other ways to be involved in the game instead of actively playing—and that was something he needed to remember when he was feeling particularly insecure about his future.
“I can see how worried you are,” Clarke said from beside him as they made their way to one of the conference rooms. “I know this isn’t how you saw the season going, Daniel, but opportunity isn’t finished knocking at your door, okay? I’ve been talking to some people. We’ll find you a place, no matter what happens today.”
The platitude sounded like something from a cheesy motivational poster, and yet, it comforted Daniel anyway. If Clarke felt confident, maybe there was still hope for him. Even if the Thunder decided they were done with Daniel Bellamy, he had value.
They entered the room to find the general manager, Mark Hubbard, and his assistant, Vladimir, who’d proposed the original offer from the Thunder to Daniel at his last meeting as a Venom player.
There was a round of hand shaking before they settled in their chairs. Daniel grabbed one of the mini water bottles from the middle of the table, more for something to do than any actual thirst.
“Thanks for coming,” Mark said. “So, let’s not beat around the bush. I believe in just diving right into things. Is that okay with everyone?”
Daniel nodded, because what else could he do?
“Okay.” Mark turned to his assistant manager. “Vladimir?”
Daniel met Vladimir’s intense, dark eyes, and Vladimir tipped his chin.
“Daniel,” he started in his lightly accented voice, “we had very high hopes when we signed you last summer. Unfortunately for everyone involved, circumstances did not quite pan out the way we’d prefer. I am sure this does not come as a surprise.”
Daniel shook his head. No surprises here. He’d had high hopes himself and now they were so low they might as well be six feet under.
“We will not be re-signing you at the end of the season.”
Even though he’d suspected as much, the impact of those words was like taking a high stick to the face. A flare of pain and suddenly everything got real hazy. Except this time there was no blood on Daniel’s eyes. Just the sting of heat, embarrassment, and disappointment coiling tight in his chest. He refused to fucking cry here, but he had to focus on his water bottle and blink hard a few times to fight the sensation back. Failure was a jagged pill to swallow, and Daniel felt it shredding his esophagus on the way down.
“We realize this is difficult,” Vladimir continued when Daniel didn’t speak. “And we want to assure you that we’re not assigning any blame to you for the condition of this team.” He sighed, and Daniel looked up in time to catch the flash of frustration on Vladimir’s face. “To put it bluntly, you walked into a mess, and perhaps we didn’t do as much as we could have to support you. But the fact remains, there is no saving this team unless we rebuild from the ground up. You are far from the only player who won’t be getting a contract renewal at the end of the season. I know that might be a cold comfort, but we wanted to make that clear.”
Daniel had to swallow twice before he could answer. “I understand.”
“But, we respect you so much, Daniel, and you are the only player we’d like to speak to about a potential position as an assistant coach.”
Daniel straightened up in his seat. “What?”
Vladimir’s gaze slid to Clarke. “I don’t know how much your agent has told you, and we realize there might be offers yet to come, but if joining our coaching staff is something you’d consider, we’d like to have a serious discussion about it.”
Daniel turned to Clarke, who had a small smile on his face. “There might be more offers?”
Clarke nodded. “Nothing concrete yet, but teams have been putting out feelers, including the Venom.”
“What?” Daniel couldn’t have heard that correctly. But no, they wouldn’t joke about this. Not his career. His heart began to clamor in his chest.
Clarke reached over to squeeze his forearm. “We can discuss it after this meeting, but like I said, nothing’s official yet. I wanted us to hear what Mr. Hubbard and the Thunder have to say before we make any decisions or reach out to any teams ourselves.”
What. The. Fuck. Daniel couldn’t believe Clarke hadn’t told him about that little tidbit before they’d come in here today. Then again, if there wasn’t anything on paper yet, maybe he hadn’t wanted to get Daniel’s hopes up. Still, Clarke had been his agent long enough to know how much Daniel had loved being on the Venom.
Except...the situation wasn’t the same as it had been last year. He’d come to Miami to play for his old home team. The team that had inspired him to start playing in the first place. He’d thought he’d be here a few seasons, and then retire and find something to do with himself in Florida, near the rest of his family. He’d bought a house. Tabby had picked up and moved so his kids could be near him. But, beyond that, he’d started building a life here. His children were settled. There was the youth hockey organization and his volunteering. The time he got to spend golfing with his dad or cooking with his mom or taking Gretchen and Nathaniel to the theme parks whenever the mood struck. And, then, of course, there was Micah.