Page 140 of Icebound

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Fore real? The old man’s press conference?

He’s asking where the hell you are, but he can’t find his phone. Hurry the fuq up it’s starting soon.

A second later, Micah sends a link to an article. Rhode Tremblay Announces Retirement Following Storied Career with Guardians in Press Conference: Wish I Could Play Forever.

My stomach drops as I speed-read the headline. I completely forgot about the press conference with the fire incident, but I didn’t realize it was about his retirement. He left out that one little detail, which would’ve been nice to know. Irritation prickles as I read the article.

“Gwen?”

“Yeah?”

I show her my phone screen, and her eyes bulge. “Can you drive me to the arena? I need to go yell at the man I love.”

34

RHODE

“First off, I want to say thank you. I couldn’t be more grateful for being here and arriving in the League as an eighteen-year-old. It’s truly been the honor of my life.”

A camera flashes, blinding me for a second as I scan the crowd, searching for Nina. Where is she? Maybe I should’ve left more than a note, but I was trying to be all romantic with a grand gesture.

I’m never making that mistake again.

Anticipation fills the conference room. The sea of suited-up journalists stares back at me behind the black table. It’s normally me up here with my team, but now, it’s just me and nine extra chairs. My teammates are in the back, standing next to my family. Some are smiling, others are crying, but they’re all here. Only one person is missing, and she’s the person I need most in this room.

“So, Rhode,” one of the journalists in the front asks, scratching his mustache. “How did you know it was time to retire from the League?”

I sip my Smart Water like I always do before answering. “It was a combination of things. When I signed this past summer, I knew it was only for one year, so I always had it in the back of my mind, but I think the main thing is the body. It takes a toll, and I wanted to play the game at the highest level…” I continue speaking, giving the journalists the spiel I practiced for three days with Camille.

Everyone looks down, typing on their phones. Another hand raises, then another. Journalists bombard me with questions.

What would your message be to the Nashville fans? Is there anything you would’ve done differently? Why not come back next season? I answer each one, mentally thanking Camille and all her relentless preparation.

A journalist with blonde hair raises a hand. I nod in their direction. “I’m sure this decision involved a lot of counseling, but what’s next? Is there a framework for what Rhode Tremblay’s future looks like?”

The door in the back creaks open.

Glancing up, I lock eyes with Nina across the sea of suits, and relief jolts through my body.

She’s here.

A smile splits across my face so fast that it takes me a minute to realize she’s glaring at me with the heat of a wildfire, and damn, she looks pissed. I tug at my collar.

Nina sits in the back next to Micah, her penetrating stare cutting through me. I track her like a puck. Arching a brow, she crosses her arms at the same time as her legs.

“Rhode?” a journalist asks.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the journalist. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“What does the future look like? What’s life after the League?”

I clear my throat into the mic. “I’m not sure what life after the League will look like, but thanks to someone very very important to me,” I add to soften Nina up. “I now realize that I’ve got time to figure it out, and that’s all I can ask for. Who knows? Maybe I’ll travel. Sail a boat. Lie on a beach. Go to… Argentina?”

Her jaw clenches.

Alright, wrong thing to say.