Chapter 2

Wade

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The tiny drop of confidence I have left disappears.

Darting my eyes left and right, I take in the eight people assembled around the table. Some of them I recognize, some I don't.

My painted-on bravado won't cut it here today. I know I am royally fucked.

With only the sound of papers being shuffled, I choose the path of least resistance, nod my head, acknowledging Leon Hill first—sports agent, former Eagles' winger, elite puck defender, and all-round good guy.

With a new woman on his arm every time I see him, the man's a self-confessed ladies' man, but he's great at his job and represents quite a few of the Eagles' players.

He's not my agent, but I wish he were.

I need him for days like today.

But why is he here?

Given my current unpopularity, I'm a professional liability; a ticking time bomb about to explode. There is no way he would represent me. Which is a pity as Leon's negotiated some sweet deals for a few of my teammates in the past. Maybe he could do the same for me.

No brand will touch you with a shit stick, Wade. You can forget that. No one likes a bad boy.

I'm now kicking myself for not replacing Larry, my former agent who retired last month. He would have had my back today. However, without an agent I'm vulnerable.

And I'm still trying to decide between the ones who are currently courting me, but none seem to have my best interests at heart. And to be honest my options aren't great because none of the good ones, like Leon, will touch me.

I eye Leon. If I get cut from the team today, would he represent me and could he sweet talk a move within the NHL?

Not that I want that, but I can't move to a minor league team.

My ego won't settle for anything less.

I would rather stick needles in my eyes than play for anyone else.

I'm a die-hard Eagle through and through; from fan to player, I will never play for another team. Cut me open and I will bleed Edmonton Eagles colors; yellow and blue.

No way, I won't do it. I'm not moving.

I play in the best league in the world.

And I love this job. I can't see myself doing anything else but playing for the team I've dreamed about since I was old enough to skate.

The reality of everyone sitting around the table gives me another slap in the face.

Wild Wade Collins, you fucked up last night.

Leon only gets called in for the strategic negotiation talks. And that's how I know this meeting is serious.

The last remnants of my life are about to be obliterated, making my emotions barrel out of control.

Bile gurgles in the pit of my gut. I feel sick and sweaty.

I silently pray for someone to open a window to let some fresh air in.

Or for me to jump out of.

Nodding my head again, I say a polite, "Good morning," to Leon that comes out a little shaky, then I greet everyone else who sits on one side of the boardroom table, making it clear that it's ‘them against me' today.

Can they see how shattered I feel inside? Do they know how much playing for the Eagles means to me?

It's the only thing I have left that's good in my life but have been struggling to hold on to. I'm barely hanging on by my fingertips. I know it, they know it, and so does everyone else. I'm a fool to think they can't see my demise.

Leon winks at me in an it's going be okay, kid type of way. "Wade, it's good to see you."

Is it?

Ash, Leon's best friend, ex-Eagles teammate, and retired Eagles coach, also throws me a wink.

Ash is the only coach I've ever trusted. Until he gave up on me too.

Regardless, Ash has always had my back, but why is he here, too? He retired from hockey before the season ended last year to focus on his family and set up his own hockey training facility. I frown when he grins at me like I'm not in a whole heap of trouble.

What does he have to be so cheerful about when impending doom awaits me?

Although the way he's acting, perhaps I'm not. Hope flares momentarily.

"Please take a seat."

I snap my head in the direction of Savanna's voice. The Eagles' people operations director, who takes no shit from anyone, points to the only available chair.

"What's going on?" I draw out my words slowly, my heart banging in my chest at least a thousand times.

I am patting myself on the back, pleased that I had the foresight to put on a shirt, dress pants, and shoes I keep in my locker for emergency press conferences because everyone around the table is suited and booted.

"Sit down, Wade," owner of the Edmonton Eagles, Marcus Edwards, instructs me firmly.

Nervously, I put my hand on the back of the chair, unsure if I should run or face the inevitable.

A red rash flushes up Marcus' neck. He looks like he's doing his best to stifle his annoyance. Everyone is pissed at me. I've been pushing his buttons, pushing my own boundaries, hammering my own coffin shut nail by painful nail.

I know my team is unhappy with me.

Maybe that's an understatement. Hate may be a better word. They've made no bones about how they feel, forever calling me out about how I make them look bad socially and during games.

The fans are beginning to turn on me too.

Shouting and screaming at me during fights with opponents on the ice, booing and yelling about how much I suck.

I do suck.

But the fans like to poke the bear. Only this bear is out of control. Wild. Feral.

What they don't know is what changed a year ago.

My breath quickens as my thoughts jump about in my head, apprehension gnawing through my fear.

I can see everyone laughing at the headlines, NHL player, ‘Wild' Wade Collins, canned for breaking teammate's nose.

That's what they call me: Wild Wade.

How I went from the polite and nice guy throughout school and when I started on the team to wild is beyond me.

Although life changing disasters do strange things to a person's sanity.

I should know. It's what I'm going through now.

My past is messing with my head, and my behavior, and I'm screwing up my career in the process.

I need help. Stat.

But I won't ask for it.

I drop into the boardroom seat feeling as heavy as a billion tons of lead.

With no one on either side of me, I feel like I'm in the spotlight and about to be questioned over the missing person they once knew as Wade Collins.

Where did he go? What did you do with him?

I've never felt so out of my depth.

Marcus clears his throat to grab my attention. "Thank you for attending today's meeting on such short notice." He watches my every move. He's a nice guy until he's not. You can always tell when things are bad. Marcus Edwards doesn't attend meetings unless necessary.

Might have something to do with me breaking his son's nose.

Oh, did I forget to mention Zane Edwards is Marcus' asshole son?

Sorry. Darling, can do no wrong, son.

He'll take Zane's side over mine any day of the week.

Yup, I'm fucked.

Fired.

With no other team wanting me.

A virtual hole below my feet opens up, teasing me as if it's about to swallow me whole.

"How are you today, Wade?" Savanna asks, breaking through the silent stares across the table in my direction.

"I'm good." I swallow my pride and speak before my fate is sealed. "But before you fire me, I would like to apologize for my behavior following last night's game." I take a deep breath to calm my frantic heartbeat. "Zane may have spoken out of turn, but I took things too far. Please accept my apologies." What I have to say next pains me. "I would like to personally apologize to Zane."

Gretchen taught me to admit when you do wrong; apologize, and be polite. As well as being kind. Disappointingly, I haven't been kind to anyone, especially myself.

Savanna opens her mouth to continue, but Marcus butts in. "You're not being fired, Wade. Not today, kid."

My body loosens. Relaxing my stiffened pose, I look heavenward.

Thank you, Gretchen.

Confusing me more, he continues, "Zane has been dealt with and I promise he won't speak another word about your…" He pauses for a beat as if he can't bring himself to say the words. "Mother again." Marcus shuts his jaw, making it twitch as he grinds his teeth together. "You can apologize to Zane if it would make you feel better, but it's unnecessary."

Oh-kay.

Well, I never expected this.

"Savanna, please continue." Marcus holds my gaze as he instructs her to conduct the rest of the meeting.

Under the table, I pick at the skin around my nails, still unsure why all these people are here today. Including Dustin MacKinnon, our general manager. Another one who only gets involved when he must. With so many important people around the table today, it's a little overwhelming.

Oh fuck.

"I don't want to be transferred," I fire out as my heartbeat takes on a life of its own. "I'm an Eagle. I can't play for anyone else. Please don't transfer me." I sound pathetic and needy.

Which I am.

From across the table, Leon and Ash chuckle softly.

It's not funny. It's the truth.

Savanna shakes her head and smiles. "You're not being transferred either, Wade. Not today."

Not today? Sounds like a threat.

My shoulders drop down a couple of inches in relief.

"You are on another four-game suspension though." Savanna is calm in her delivery of that news. "Violence will not be tolerated. Especially not towards fellow team members."

Okay, that I can take. But it will kill me not being able to play.

She clears her throat. "Your behavior, both on and off the ice, has become questionable. You are not only damaging your reputation, but the impeccable reputation of the Eagles. Collectively, we agree that we cannot and will not stand by and watch you continue to sabotage your career and our good name."

"I'm sorry." I look down at the table in shame.

I know what I have been doing, but I didn't stop.

Maybe it was a cry for help, or maybe it was a way to vent the anger inside of me that's been boiling over like an out-of-control vat of acid.

Whatever it is, I have to stop before I lose the one thing I love, and the only thing I still have left.

Hockey.

Savanna pushes on. "Your shift in attitude over the last year is something we can no longer ignore because we know that's not who you are, Wade. We gave you the benefit of the doubt, in the hope that your behavior would improve, but it hasn't, and it's having an impact on the dynamic of the team. Your negative attitude and the increase in physical aggression are not only alarming, but a cause for concern." Pushing her black-rimmed glasses up her nose, she stalls, giving me time to process her words. "We care about you, Wade. We all do. I remember the day you sat in this room and signed your contract." Her tone is full of warmth and concern.

"Best day of my life." I was desperate to permanently ink my name onto the paper.

"I know." Savanna inches forward, her head nodding. "You said that at least twenty times that day."

I remember how she compared me to an excitable puppy.

"Playing hockey is all I've ever wanted to do." I say the most honest thing I have in a while. "I thought I was about to lose it all."

"We know and that's why, moving forward, we have assembled a new, in-house team to help support you." She holds her hand out to her side and motions to everyone to her left. "Welcome to your support team."

Support team? What the hell is that?