Page 86 of Offensive Plays
“I was hoping I’d run into you. Come,” he pulls me aside and leads me into an office reserved for visiting team coaches.
Once inside, he sits at the edge of the old brown desk and looks at me, his hands folding in his lap.
“Listen, Fergie. I’m not supposed to say anything, but I think this is something you should know.”
My brain can’t think. Only thoughts of Libby are bouncing around inside my skull. And I’m really hoping he can make this quick.
“Mack got a call earlier today. It looks like there’s a team that’s hoping to make a trade. She won’t tell me who it is. They have to go through all the proper channels. But you might be hearing from your agent soon with a potential offer.”
I shake my head trying to make sense of the words coming out of his mouth. “They want to trade me?”
He nods. “I know this is your first team and the loyalty runs deep. Personally, I think it’d be a stupid move on their part, but ultimately it will be up to you and management to figure out.”
“Coach… I can’t leave.”
Coach Murray nods his head. “I was hoping you’d say that. I just wanted you to know so it’s not a surprise when you get the call.”
Yeah, because right now, another surprise might be too much for me to handle.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
“Now, go get some rest. And please, keep this between you and me. We don’t need to get the team worried during this last game. We need all the good energy we can get.”
“I agree,” I tell him.
He dismisses me and I feel like I’m walking through fog and unable to think.
Back inside the locker room I don’t look at anyone. I just head to my bag and start to undress.
“You ok?” Hicks asks, sitting on the bench and looking up at me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just… tired.”
I undress and grab a towel to head to the showers. There I let the hot water pour over and relax my aching muscles. A few moments pass when I hear Zane’s voice in the locker room.
“Delete it, now!” He roars.
I shut the water off and grab my towel, jogging out to see what’s going on.
“It’s all over the internet, O’Connor. He can’t just delete it,” Sincaid says, pointing to one of the other rookies holding a phone.
“I don’t give a shit where it is, if I catch any one of you fuckers with that on your phone. You’re dead to me.”
Ryker and Landry are holding him back from beating up one of our own teammates.
“What’s going on?” I ask, securing the towel around my waist.
“Libby,” Zane growls out and my stomach drops.
“What about Libby?”
There’s violence in his eyes and he turns his anger back to the rookie. “I mean it.”
“I got it,” the rookie says.
Zane storms back to his bench, slapping a cap over his head and grabbing his bag before shouldering out the door.
“What is it?” I ask the rookie.