Page 45 of From Coast to Coast
He smiles at that, the serious expression giving way. “I suppose it might be hard for a Canadian family to adopt an American kid? I have no idea how all of that works. Surprising, I know, givenI’madopted.”
“I’m not sure what the reasoning was. All I know is I was crushed when they said no. I wanted Troy to be my brother.”
“I’m sorry that you thought liking girls was the way you had to be,” he says softly. I look at him, surprised, realizing that I’ve put a bit of a damper on our evening without meaning to.
“It’s okay. That’s just the way the world is. Queer kids have to come out and straight kids just get to be who they are.”
Remy bites his cheek, looking away from me in favor of staring across the room.
“Yeah. Sad, though.” Clearing his throat, his hazel eyes meet mine again. “You know how I said my mom is a hippie? She’s also very sex-positive and forward-thinking. She never assigned genders when she talked to me about having a crush—not until I told her it was a girl. And she always said I should love whomever I wanted, and it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.”
“Your momisa fucking badass.”
“Maybe sometime you can come?—”
My phone rings, the sound echoing from where I left it in the kitchen. As I get up to check it, I curse the damn thing. I’m pretty certain Remy was just about to invite me back home. I’m also pretty certain I would have said yes.Fuck this stupid thing, I think as I pick up my phone and check the alerts. There is a missed call from my agent, which canprobably be returned tomorrow. I put it down and turn to rejoin Remy when it rings again. Annoyed at my agent now, even though she has no way of knowing she was interrupting anything, I answer.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself, kiddo.”
I smile at the nickname. Lisa is twenty-three years older than me and over a foot shorter. She loves to grumble that she’s old enough to be my mom and somehow manages to push me around even though she’s miniature.
“Lisa, I’m on a date right now—could we touch base tomorrow, instead?”
“Is he a hockey fan?”
“Uhm…yeah. Definitely a hockey fan,” I admit, glancing over at the doorway that leads to the dining room.
“Fantastic. Tell him your agent needs to speak with you urgently and step outside.”
Her tone sends fear spiking through my gut. In all the years we’ve been working together, I’ve never heard her so serious or had her override my request to speak at another time. I mute her, walking back to where Remy is still seated at the table. He’s moved my plate closer to himself and is helping himself to my chicken. When he catches sight of me, he shrugs, grinning crookedly.
“Busted,” he jokes.
“Help yourself. Hey, I’ve got to take this call, is it okay if I?—”
He waves a hand. “Of course. I’ll be here.”
Nodding my thanks, I backtrack to the kitchen and take Lisa off mute. She hears me come back on and doesn’t wait for me to speak before moving forward.
“All right. I’ve got some big news for you, so we’re goingto start at the beginning. First of all, I don’t think I have to remind you that you’ve got two years left on your current contract. Also, per your request over the summer, I made it known to the club that you wanted out and were open to trades. Following me?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. She inhales, the noise barely audible over the shuffle of papers.
“Colorado called up your boss to talk about a possible trade agreement.”
She drops the bomb and pauses politely, giving me time to work through each word of that sentence and figure out what the hell she’s talking about.
“What?”
“Keep up, kiddo,” she advises. “Colorado just lost another top player—they are currently sitting at seven on long-term IR, with only one that has any hope of coming back this season. Calgary already agreed to play ball—apparently, you’re worth the buyout plus a second-round draft pick as well as Colorado’s Vladakov.”
“Wait, stop.” I hold up a hand she can’t see and close my eyes. “How can they cover my contract? I thought Color?—"
“Seven on long injured reserve means they were just approved for cap relief. They started the season below, too; don’t bother asking me how they managed that because I have no clue. It doesn’t matter. What matters is half of their defensive lines are out, and there is only so much they can work with from the farm team. They’re going to pull up a couple from the minors, pay them pennies, and then go fishing for a shark.” She pauses. “You’re the shark.”
“Fuck.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. How could something I want so badly, sound so fucking awful? “Are you sure about this?”