Page 104 of Forbidden Forward

If that’s true, why do I feel like I sprawled across a road and let a dump truck full of busted concrete roll over me?

Chapter 46

Enemies and Allies

Colby

Four days have passed since our season ended, and I arrive at the arena and join my teammates for our exit interviews. It’s awkward as hell since I don’t know if I’m saying good-bye, so I wind up shooting the shit with the trainers. My interview appointment approaches, and I stand at my stall, telling myself I’m here to be sure I didn’t leave anything behind. I know I didn’t; I just want to soak it in one last time. Running my fingertips over “Chase” on my nameplate, I let out a tired sigh.

I amble toward Coach’s office as his door opens. Out steps Harper, whose eyes round when they catch on me. He gives me a quick bob of his head and immediately looks away. Raising my fist to knock on Coach’s door, I watch Harper’s hurried gait carry him away. Fuck. He already had his exit interview hours ago, so what was he doing in Coach’s office right before my time?

My knock is answered, and I step inside. Before me are Coach Gleason, one of his assistants, and the Surge’s GM. I fortify myself and take the seat Coach indicates.

The meeting goes like most of these do, with Coach taking the lead. He starts by asking, “How do you think your year went?”

I answer honestly that I think it started out okay and got better as the season wore on and that my best games were at the end when the coaching staff trusted me with more ice time. I reel off some impressive stats, like my face-off percentage and my low scoring-chances-against rating. They’re the best of my career, which I attribute to the quality of the coaching staff. When it comes to this shit, I’m no idiot. It’s only in my personal life that I can’t seem to find my way out of an empty net.

This leads us into my changing role, and I point to the reduction in my penalty minutes. We move on to my chemistry with Harper. Here I falter and admit the relationship didn’t get exactly where I expected. While I tell them I think it improved at the end, I don’t mention anything about his sister. That would be career suicide, and besides, she and I are nothing. Absolutely nothing. I ignore the sear of pain in my chest.

They nod along, giving nothing away. Coach asks me about my health and tells me what he wants me working on over the summer. Standard stuff. During the exchange, the assistant takes notes and the GM watches me with a hawk eye, as if he’s calculating. Assessing. Measuring every word out of my mouth, every tic of every muscle.

Finally, Coach hands the reins to him. My fingers, which are laced in my lap, tighten their grip.

He asks me to talk about my experience with the team. What I think of the systems. The facilities. Communication with the staff and the front office. What worked, what didn’t, and why. Where I see myself fitting in moving forward. My answers are short but candid, and I second-guess every single word out of my mouth.

A beat of silence passes when I’m done, and he shifts in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. “We like what you brought this year. I’m sure you’re aware where your contract stands. We’ll have some talks with your agent and see where things go.”

“Meaning you want me back?” I unwisely blurt. The hope in my voice makes it rise.

“Meaning we’ll talk to your agent,” he clips.

He dismisses me, and I rise and scan the room before leveling my gaze on him. “I hope we can work it out, sir. I really enjoy playing for the Surge.” His eyebrow lifts as if I’ve overstayed my welcome, and I bite my tongue before I can add, “I’ve found a home here.”

As I close the door behind me, I berate myself for spouting off the entire way out of the arena. When I reach my truck, I’m surprised to see Harper nearby on the sidewalk. As I round my hood, I see the reason why. He’s admiring a 911 Turbo S coupe he bought himself that costs more than the Gail and can’t deliver nearly as much pleasure. But that’s his deal.

“Sweet ride,” I offer. I’m a dick, so instead of asking him what the car tops out at or how quickly it goes from zero to sixty, I say, “What color is that?” Harper gives me a confused look before telling me it’s Rhodium Silver Metallic.

I nod. “So … silver.”

“Don’t you want to know how many horses it’s got or how fast it goes?”

Eyeballing the car, I shrug. “Not really.”

“You are such a fucking asshole,” he growls.

Shifting my gaze to his, I break out my standard smug grin. “Why? Because I’m not drooling over your car?”

“No, because you let my sister believe the shit I told her about you.”

Turning, I face him and square up. “You and I both know I’m no good for her. I figured it would be easier for her to dump my ass if she believed the crap you fed her.”

His sharp gaze assesses me. Obviously, this is not the answer he expected.

Might as well keep swinging while I’ve got him off his game. “Your meeting with Coach right before I went in … I’m guessing you told him they should trade me as soon as possible.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“As a matter of fact, I would. Might sound weird, but I’m kinda curious about my future.”