Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
His attention returning, Rafe takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a rush. “There’s no easy way to say this, but I want to talk to you about trading me.”
There’s nothing that could have surprised me more and I’m not even sure I heard him right. But I immediately try to dispel that stupid-as-fuck request. “Listen, I know you’ve been moved back down to the second line with Tacker coming back, but—”
Rafe shakes his head in frustration, almost barking out his reply. “No. It’s not about that.”
I study him, spotting the grief deep within his expression. Taking a step closer, I lower my voice. “What’s wrong?”
“My father just got diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer. He doesn’t have much time left.”
All the air comes rushing out of me as my gut churns with sorrow on his behalf. “Christ… I’m sorry, Rafe.”
He nods. “Look, I know it’s asking a lot—and I’m not even sure it’s possible—but I was hoping you could arrange a trade to the Cold Fury. I’m from Raleigh, and I’d like to get back to that area to spend…”
His words choke off with fear and grief. “You realize if you’re were traded, you’re not eligible to participate in the playoffs? You really want to give that up?”
Of course he does. Anyone in this league knows if a player is traded after the deadline, they lose eligibility.
“No offense, Mr. Carlson,” Rafe says.
I cut him off. “Dominik.”
I get a curt nod. “No offense, Dominik. But there are some things that are more important than a Cup championship. I know that might be a letdown to you, but I’d take spending time with my dad for just a day versus a hundred Cups if I could.”
Fuck… but I have to blink back a sheen of wetness in my eyes.
Still, I have to remember I’m a businessman first with a board to answer to. “The logistics would be a nightmare, even if I were inclined to release you. Just who do you think the Cold Fury would trade—”
“Rand Berkley,” he cuts in. “He’s got an injured ACL. He’s out for the rest of the season, but he’s a comparable player to me. He’ll be a good addition to the roster for next year.”
I cock an eyebrow. “So, you want me to give up a star player for an injured player who will do me no good? I see why that will work for the Cold Fury as it’s pretty even, but as a businessman trying to have the best possible team to win the Cup, you want me to let you go for that?”
Rafe flushes. “No, not at all. There are draft picks you can negotiate for as well. That’s something I’d figure you’d do. I’ll forfeit my salary to make it more appealing to the Cold Fury if that’s what it takes.”
Christ. He’s dead serious.
I consider his request, realizing I could get all the Cold Fury’s draft picks but it would still be a losing proposition for me. Rafe is playing hot right now. He effortlessly stepped into Tacker’s shoes, and he’s playing at the same caliber on the second line right now. Everyone tends to focus on the star players, but Rafe is someone who is probably more of a clutch player than any of the first line men because he has the ability to move back and forth between the two.
“I need to think about it,” I say. It’s all I can offer right now because no matter how bad I feel for the dude, I have people I answer to.
I answer to the other players on this team.
To the board.
More than anything, I answer to the fans.
Rafe nods, and I’m grateful for the acceptance on his face. I know he didn’t expect an answer right this minute, which would have been impossible.
“I’ll get you an answer soon,” I promise, casting a last glance at the treadmill.
No time for a workout now. I have stuff to do.
CHAPTER 4
Dominik
“Let me go make some phone calls.” I clap my hand on Rafe’s shoulder. Squeeze. “And again… I’m really sorry. Anything I can do for you personally?”
“Got a cure for cancer?” he asks, his lips curving slightly.
My return smile is regretful. “I’m afraid not. I’ll be praying for him, though.”
“Thanks,” Rafe says with a nod.
I give his shoulder another squeeze before turning away. As I walk through the facility, I catch Bishop’s eye. He lifts his chin in a way that isn’t a greeting but more of an “I need to talk to you”. I divert, head his way, and note the rest of the first line pulling in around him.
Clearly, they all know what’s going on with Rafe.
“What are you going to do?” Bishop asks as I join them.
The rest of the men huddle into a circle. Tacker is to my left—the big, reclusive, and previously broken center who lost his fiancée in a plane crash. Until recently, he’d been emotionally and physically absent from the team, but he’s back now.