28. Dane

28

DANE

“This is horse shit, Henry. I never agreed to this.” I stand in the hotel lobby in Denver, trying to keep my volume down when frustration and anger make me want to shout.

From my position in a dim corner, I see my teammates step out of the hotel elevator and stroll across the marble floor. They’re heading to the arena for warm-ups.

The Ranchers defeated Colorado in our first two home games, but the Knights used home rink advantage to win games three and four. Following the pattern, we won game five back in Dallas.

Tonight is game six in Denver, and we have a shot at ending the Conference Finals with our fourth victory. The Knights hope to hold on and secure a win, forcing a game seven. My teammates and I are motivated not to let that happen.

I should be on my way to the arena with my team. I shouldn’t be dealing with this bullshit right now, but I’ve been waiting for Henry to call me all morning.

For the past week and a half, I’ve been speaking with my agent, Coach Miller, my teammates, and anyone who will listen, telling them I don’t want to be traded.

When Henry pointed out that I’d asked him to put out feelers to see if teams were interested in trading for me, I told him that expressing interest in a trade is different from actually agreeing to one. Athletes look at their options regularly, but several conversations usually occur before a player and team commit to a trade. I haven’t been part of a single conversation.

“I’m doing what I can, Dane,” Henry’s aged voice travels through the phone.

His calm voice grates my nerves. Doesn’t he realize how big of a mess this is?

“But after that issue with the trainer, the Ranchers don’t seem motivated to keep you on the team. Not if you don’t want to be there.”

“But I do want to be there,” I growl. “Have you told them that?”

“Of course.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“From what I understand, the board is taking time to consider their options. Just be patient, Dane. We will get more information after the Conference Finals.”

I want to punch a hole in the wall and shout to anyone who will listen that this is bullshit.

“I won’t play for the Glacier Kings,” I sound petulant, but I mean it. I don’t want to be traded anywhere, but if I had to choose, it sure as hell wouldn’t be to a team owned by Trey’s family.

“You have two years left on your contract,” Henry reminds me. “If you refuse to play, you can be fined by your new team.”

“Let them fine me,” I grit out. “I don’t give a shit. I’m not playing in fucking Minnesota.”

My curse earns a few wary looks from guests in the lobby. I keep my gaze trained on the pillar near the entrance, uncaring who hears what I’m saying. Let them. I hope they take the information to the press and someone finally reports how much I don’t want this trade.

So far, all news outlets make it seem like I asked for the trade. While I was technically open to the idea, I did not agree to this one. I’ve tried communicating that to Vincent Gianni Jr., the owner, but he has yet to take one of my calls, and his assistant won’t agree to schedule a meeting. Like Henry, she suggests I wait until the series is over to try again.

But I don’t want to wait.

This is my life we’re talking about. I’m not content to sit on the side, silent, and let others dictate what happens next—not when everything is based on untrue assumptions about what I want.

Henry sighs. “Just be patient. Focus on tonight’s game. Show the Ranchers what an asset you are.”

If that’s all the Ranchers needed to decide to keep me, then a trade wouldn’t even be on the table. I’ve been showing I’m an asset all year.

Something else is at play here; I can feel it. But unless someone decides to be honest with me about why the Ranchers are participating in trade discussions, I can only guess their motivations.

And I hate guessing.

“Fix this, Henry,” I say, but the words aren’t as strong as I’d like. I’m mentally exhausted. “Please.”

“I’ll do my best,” my agent says. Once again, I’m annoyed by how unbothered he sounds. “Good luck tonight. I’ll be cheering you on from Dallas.”

“Thanks.” I end the call and continue staring at the pillar.

This has been a shitty week. There’s no other way to put it. It sucks not to be in control of my fate, and I’m kicking myself for setting this all into motion by my knee-jerk reaction all those weeks ago.

At least things with Morgan have been okay. My girlfriend has been a source of comfort I hadn’t realized I needed. She constantly reassures me things will be okay no matter what happens.

I don’t believe her, but I don’t argue. Our relationship is not the reason I will refuse any trade put in front of me, but it is a big reason.

My life is good in Dallas—too good to give up. And while hockey is my dream career, it’s not forever. I’ve known that since I entered the league. There’s a time limit on how long I’ll be able to play, and while I’m not ready to hang up my skates, I’m even less ready to give up the life I’ve built for myself in Dallas.

If the Ranchers force my hand, I’ll have a tough decision to make, but my gut tells me what it will be.

I just hope I can live with the fallout.