Page 54 of Bonus Game
Carr scoffed and rolled his eyes, as if Banner’s suggestion was ridiculous. “It worked, didn’t it? Come on, Hulk, there’s a shower calling our names.”
Riley watched the Citadel player wrap a towel around his hips before sauntering toward the showers. Something about Carr was familiar, like Riley was expecting him to be friendlier, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Riley shoved his slides on and limped his way to the shower, silently cursing his tender hip that he knew would be an issue for his game that night. It was only bruised, but if he took one hit during the game, it would sting like a sonofabitch.
“You good?”
Riley groaned and turned the water on, hanging his towel before he stepped under the hot spray. Normally, he didn’t care about the lack of stalls in the shower room, but Sloan had never taken the spot beside him on purpose either.
“I’m fine,” said Riley. “I don’t know why you’re asking when you got just as fucked up as me.”
The silence was new, too. Riley wasn’t used to his teammates walking past him without friendly taps and smacks, but having Sloan so close was acting like a repellent.
He opened one eye and glanced at Sloan to make sure he was still there, and found the guy staring at him with a weird expression on his face.
Was he…worried?
Nope. No way.
“I’m used to getting shoved around—and shoving others around,” said Sloan. “You’re all about speed and stickwork, so I rarely see you take hits like that.”
Riley couldn’t stop his brows from pinching together. “I thought you said I had shitty stickwork?”
He braced for the insult, but was unprepared when Sloan lifted his arm and deflected water at his face.
Sputtering, Riley shook his head and ignored Sloan for the rest of his five-minute scrub down. Knowing he had to go to his apartment and still be around Sloan made the decision to visit Jake and Allen easy.
Riley didn’t pause to put clothes on when he went back to the locker room and grabbed his phone, eager to text his two idiots. He couldn’t stay long because of the random team lunch, but even an hour to decompress with his favourite people would be enough.
But when he saw a missed call from his agent on the phone, thoughts of hanging out with Allen and Jake had to be pushed aside.
Feeling sick to his stomach, Riley called his agent’s number and held his breath.
Thirty minutes later, Riley was dressed and sitting at a table in a room beside Sloan while Mr. Valero and his co-owner, Mr. Ansari, studied them. They were joined by the Admiral GM, Mr. Kanto, and the head coaches from both teams.
“Your agents talked you through the offers?” Mr. Valero asked them.
They nodded since neither of them could form words.
“This will officially give the Citadels the youngest roster in the league,” said Mr. Ansari, sounding giddy despite the tension in the room. “The youngest players on the youngest team. Now that’s a story we can build some excitement on.”
Mr. Valero’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but then thought better of it. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself just yet. They need to earn ice time, remember?”
Mr. Ansari waved him off. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Everett. You saw them play today.” He leaned forward, grinning broadly at Sloan first, and then Riley. “It’s a little unconventional to call the two of you in here instead of meeting one-on-one, but we were hoping this would solidify what we expect from you. Mr. Kanto informed us that you guys don’t play nice, but we saw what you can accomplish when you try, and you’ve both been impressive in other areas that we’re focusing on.”
Mr. Valero nodded in agreement with his co-owner. “Outstanding stats, and one will bring grit while the other will bring hometown pride. I know you’re aware we were considering you because we’ve been in contact with your agents, but we were hesitant to make an official offer because of the attitude adjustments that needed to happen before the trade deadline.”
Attitude adjustments? Riley knew Sloan was an issue, but the way Jake’s father looked at him while he said it made him think he was missing something.
As if reading his mind, Mr. Valero smiled softly. “Evans, you play like you don’t want to win. You’re coasting through every game, and you don’t fight when you know you could be the game changer.”
Riley cringed, his cheeks burning like someone had pressed a hot brand to them. He hadn’t realized anyone had noticed his lack of enthusiasm, but leave it to Jake’s father to read him like an open book.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fight, but for a while now he figured if he was never going to be a Jett Killinger or Etienne Leroux, why bother?
“And you—” Mr. Ansari rounded on Sloan, still smiling like a man who had just won the lottery. “You fighttoomuch.”
Coach Sullivan laughed and then tried to hide it behind a cough.
