Pride and Pucks and Prejudice - 2. Chapter 2

Jackson

Three Months Later

I hated meetings almost as much as I hated losing championships.

The first usually ended with accountants explaining why the salary cap was everyone's problem but theirs. The second stayed with me for months. Unfortunately, today's meeting promised both.

I looked through the glass wall of Chicago Wolves General Manager Brian Keller's office towards the practice rink below. Morning skate had finished half an hour ago. Equipment staff drifted across the ice collecting stray pucks while the Zamboni traced slow, methodical circles over the scarred surface.

Three months. Three months since Tampa. Three months since I'd watched a goaltender swallow the biggest shot of my career.

The replay still arrived uninvited. Sometimes while I brushed my teeth. Sometimes halfway through a workout. Sometimes in the middle of the damned night.

Every time I saw something different. Shoot earlier. Pull it wider. Five-hole. Backhand.

Anything but exactly what I'd done.

"You've gone quiet." Rebecca Shaw, my agent, sat beside me with a legal pad balanced across crossed knees.

"I've gone suspicious."

She smiled without looking up. "Healthy attitude."

Brian closed the office door before taking the chair opposite us. I'd known him for eight years. He'd drafted me, watched me become captain. Negotiated every contract extension I'd signed.

He looked as though he'd aged ten years since July, which I didn't take as an encouraging sign.

He folded his hands together. "I'll get straight to it."

Never a phrase that improved anyone's morning.

"The ownership group has decided we're restructuring." I waited. "We've got too much money tied into long-term contracts." Still waiting. "The new owner wants flexibility."

There it was.

Ownership.

The invisible people who drifted into hockey every few years to explain that loyalty was a wonderful quality everyone else should possess.

Brian drew a slow breath. "We've agreed to trade you."

For a moment the room became unnaturally quiet. The air-conditioning hummed. Someone laughed somewhere out in the corridor. Down below, a skate sharpener whined against steel.

Beside me, Rebecca stopped writing. "...Right."

Remarkably calm, considering my stomach had just dropped somewhere near my ankles.

Brian slid a folder across the desk. "The paperwork's already been approved."

I looked down.

Philadelphia Bobcats.

For a second the words refused to mean anything. Then they meant everything.

"They've traded me."

Brian nodded once. "They have."

Six years. Captain. League MVP. Two Finals appearances. Community events. School visits. Billboards. Kids wearing number seventeen.

Apparently all of it fit inside a manila folder.

Rebecca spoke before I managed to. "What are you getting back?"

Brian listed prospects and draft picks.

I barely heard him.

Draft picks. Cap relief. Future flexibility. Interesting phrases for saying *we'd rather have the money than you.*

"When?"

"The announcement goes out tomorrow morning."

"So today's my last day as a Wolf."

A hesitation. "...Yes."

I'd promised myself years ago that if hockey ever stopped feeling like something I loved, I'd retire. Knowing it was a business didn't stop it hurting.

"You deserved to hear it in person," Brian said.

"I appreciate that."

I meant it.

He could have done it over the phone. Instead he'd looked me in the eye. That still counted for something.

Silence settled over the office. Eventually I stood.

"I won't make this difficult."

"I know."

"I've loved playing here."

Something softened in Brian's expression. "I know that too."

I managed something that almost qualified as a smile. "Tell ownership I hope the flexibility wins them a championship."

Rebecca coughed into her hand.

Brian looked suspiciously close to smiling. "I'll leave that part out."

Probably sensible.

I picked up the folder.

Philadelphia. Different city. Different coaches. Different systems. Different teammates. And Noah Lindholm.

That arrived almost as an afterthought.

"Noah Lindholm."

Brian looked up. "What about him?"

"He's their first-line center."

Brian leaned back in his chair. "You'll learn the personnel soon enough."

That was an oddly diplomatic answer. "I was asking because we'll be playing together."

"I'm sure you'll both figure it out."

Rebecca glanced between us. "Is there something I should know?"

"No."

The answer came automatically. I'd played against Noah often enough to think I knew a little about him.

Noah Lindholm.

Terrific.

Six years of trying to beat him.

Now I'd have to share a dressing room with him.

Noah remembered every slight.

I'd discovered that during our third season. I smiled despite myself.

"'Also Ran' still annoys him."

Rebecca blinked. "You actually call another captain 'Also Ran'?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"It annoys him."

Brian rubbed his forehead. "I've always wondered where that came from."

"It was funny."

Rebecca looked at me. "Only to you."

I considered that. "...Probably."

I'd started saying it because Noah's reactions were spectacular.

The narrowed eyes. The muttered replies. The increasingly creative insults every time we crossed paths. Once, after a game in Detroit, Noah had spent an entire handshake line refusing to look at me while very deliberately stepping on my skate.

Competitive people were entertaining. Noah especially, with that grin he got whenever he thought he'd won an argument

It had honestly never occurred to me that he might have taken it personally. I'd always assumed he knew it was a joke.

Rebecca snapped her notebook shut. "Come on." She stood. "Let's go pack your life into boxes."

I looked once more through the office window at the empty rink below.

Chicago had been home since I was nineteen. You always imagined you'd get to choose the moment you left. Apparently hockey preferred making that decision for you.

I tucked the folder under my arm. "Philadelphia."

Rebecca shrugged. "Could be worse."

"How?"

"You could've been traded to Winnipeg."

Despite everything, I laughed. It felt good.

As we stepped out into the corridor, I found myself wondering how Noah Lindholm was going to react.

I doubted he'd be thrilled.

For some reason, that thought made me smile again.