Page 111 of Traded

“You need to find a balance.” He sighs. “Right now, it’s in the wrong direction.”

Is it fuck.I’m exactly where I need to be. Keeping a closer eye on things, and I don’t like what I’m seeing. But from the look on his face, I know there’s no point in sharing my plans with him. Not until they’re done, and the pack is disbanded.

A hint of disquiet travels down my spine, and I straighten. “I’ll bear that in mind. Anything else?”

“Your performance.” It’s blunt, and surprisingly brutal. I flinch back, but Miles is unforgiving. “You’d get more slack if you were making it work out there, but you’re flagging, Carter. You know your contract’s up at the end of the season.”

“Fucking hell. It’s not that bad.” When Miles says nothing, anger floods my veins. “Is that what Martin’s saying? What thefuck?”

After everything I’ve given for this fucking team?“You know we’re leading the Atlantic Division, right? What more does he want from me?”

“Nobody’s debating that.” We both sit back while a waitress delivers a bread basket that Miles dives into. His next words are muffled. “He said you’ve hit the ceiling on the approved pain schedule, and it’s having an effect.”

“Yeah,” I say after a minute. “Injury window’s up.”

“Well.” He takes a long glug of white wine, a drop of condensation sliding down the outside of the glass. “That’s Mina’s view. And she’sexcellent, of course. I adore her, you know that. But she’s not the only doctor on the roster.”

I slide my hand into my pocket, feeling for the pill bottle. It’s empty, just as it was this morning. “Spit it out, whatever it is you’re dancing around.”

Miles sets the emptied breadbasket aside. Our table looks like a horde of angry pigeons had a party. Reaching for his briefcase, he tugs a piece of paper free and slides it over to me. My gut ices over as I scan it. “What the hell is this?”

“New schedule.” He grins when I look up. “All approved and above board.”

“You know I don’t take oxy.” My teeth find the inside of my cheek as I stare at the signatures on the bottom. I don’t recognize any of them. “Who the fuck are these people?”

“Check ‘em out if you like. All approved. Martin used them when Laine had his knee blown out a few years back.” Milesleans forward. “Look. I appreciate your line on this, mate. I always have, you know that. And I’ve never pushed it. Hell, I’m not pushing now. But you’re drowning, Cart. This is Martin offering you a life raft with a second opinion.”

And a prescription for a drug I always swore I’d never take. My hands grip the empty bottle tighter. “Youknowthis shit is an issue for me.”

“You were a kid.” He waves his hands, dismissing my start in life. “We already spoke to the doctors. Wanted to get some things off your plate. They didn’t have a problem with it. I’d take my advice from the professionals every time, yeah?”

When he reaches back into his briefcase, I know what’s coming next. “It’s not my birthday until August.”

But my throat feels bone dry as he sets the small, dark bottle down between us. “We can support it with more acupuncture.”

My name is already printed on the side.

“Keep it on the low down.” My head shoots up, and he snorts. “Don’t want to piss off Mina. It’s all in your records, though. Let me know when you need a refill, and I’ll sort it.”

“I’m not taking these.” But my hand is reaching across the table, my shoulder yelling at me with that small movement. The burn is so familiar to me now that the constant acidic taste in my mouth barely registers.

Miles sees the look on my face. “Whatever gets you to the end of the season, mate. Then we can look at the surgery and go from there. Yeah?”

The end of the season. The end of my pack.

The end of my career, most likely, unless I keep fighting.

My hand slides the bottle into my pocket as the waitress rocks up with my steak and twenty other dishes. Miles nods. “Gotta do what we can to survive. You know that. You always have.”

“Yeah,” I say eventually. “I know.”

Shuffling forward, he awkwardly claps my shoulder before sitting back down. “Good lad.”

***

By the time I finish up a session with Gabe at the rink, sit with Remy for an hour playing over the shitshow of the last game and jump onto the ice with a panicking Ryker for a skills shoot, it’s after five and my shoulder’s on fire.

Liam turns as I walk into the hall. “Where the hell have you been?”