Page 50 of Two for Roughing

“I hope you don’t mind,” Lindy continued. “We’ve got your agent on video call.”

Kilian forced a smile. “No problem. Hi, Derek.”

Derek waved through the screen, managing to look at least slightly sheepish. He could have warned Kilian about this.

“Wow. Big news, huh?” Was it rude of him to pretend he didn’t know? He couldn’t explain to them how he knew about the trade, but acting as if he didn’t made him feel like a dick.

“You could say so. Have a seat.” Lindy gestured to the free chair across from her desk, which left him sitting alone with his back to the door and everyone else opposite him. If the goal was to put Kilian at ease, it failed.

“Now, as you know, we’ve had a few talks about your role on the team recently,” Lindy said.

Kilian nodded. Derek shot him a quizzical look.

Right. Kilian probably should have told him about the time she called him into her office. It was the sort of thing a player ought to let his agent know about, the head coach asking for a one-on-one meeting to talk about how much he sucked. But Derek had gone to college with Dad, and Dad liked to call him up every now and again to ask about Kilian’s career and stats, so the last thing Kilian needed was for Derek to have more information.

“I don’t want to draw this out,” Lindy continued. “You’ve been trying hard, and I’ve seen a real improvement in the last couple games, but the fact remains that the Sea Lions have a lot of forward depth and not a lot of goaltenders.”

Just say it, Kilian thought.

“For the good of the team, the GM made the call to trade you to Chicago for Arnold Henderson. I’m sure your agent will go over all the contract details with you. This isn’t a reflection on you as a player or as a person, Howie. You just aren’t the right fit for the Sea Lions right now. We all want the best for you.”

“Right.” Howie smiled at her, as fake as the expression of compassion she directed at him. She hadn’t mentioned that the GM had also thrown in two draft picks, which absolutely was a reflection on him as a player. So was Lindy being the one to break the news. With important players, franchise players, the GM would do it himself. “When’s my flight out?”

“We can get you on one to O’Hare in three hours.”

“Not much time to pack.”

Lindy’s smile widened. “No. Chicago’s been clear they need you as soon as they can get you. And it goes without saying we’re pretty desperate for a new goalie too.”

Phil cleared his throat. “I can take you to the airport. And help you with anything else you need.”

“Cool.” Kilian got to his feet. “So is that all, or…”

“No, I guess that’s all.”

“Right. Well, thanks for the opportunity to play for the Sea Lions. It was an honor to be drafted here.”

The tightly drawn lines around Lindy’s eyes softened. She stood as well and patted his shoulder. “See you on the ice, Howie.”

After shaking her hand, Kilian left the room, his heart beating so fast his head spun. He should have said something to Derek. Told him he’d call later or whatever. He should have said goodbye to Coach Edwards, though he’d remained silent through the meeting. Edwards had never done much for Kilian, but the man had been his coach for over a year now.

Anxiously, he looked over his shoulder, but the door to the office had already closed.

Phil’s hand came down on the back of his neck, heavy and comforting. “You did good, kid.”

Kilian wanted to bristle at being called “kid,” but he was tired and kind of drunk and his whole life was about to change. “Yeah?” His voice was less steady than he wanted it to be.

“Yeah. Didn’t let her see you were upset, kept it classy.”

Kilian nodded sharply. “Thanks for driving me.”

Phil smiled. He had so many crow’s feet. Maybe Kilian really was a kid to him. “Of course. Look, Howie, I’m sorry this happened—”

Kilian held a hand up. “I can’t be all gracious and magnanimous to you too. I’m maxed out for the day.”

They reached the elevator, and Phil pushed the button for staff parking. Thank fuck he’d offered to drive Kilian. There was no way he could sit through the Uber ride home and then to the airport without crying or screaming or doing something else to tank his rating.

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” Phil told him as the elevator descended. “Hockey is a business, trades happen, whatever. I’m telling you I’m sorry, and I mean it. You shouldn’t have been blindsided this way. Lindy never told me about her meetings with you, or that there were talks happening.”