Trade Deadline - Avon Gale Page 0,11

being afraid of the dolphins.”

“You’re not still afraid of the dolphins, Cody.”

Cody held his hand out and rocked it back and forth. “Just kinda. They’re big, Micah. I thought they were smaller! Like medium-dog size!”

“That is no excuse, but it does help me sleep easier knowing you couldn’t fit Silver in your Prius,” Micah chided, but he smiled and said he’d think about going to the game.

Maybe he would. Cody wasn’t wrong, the tickets weren’t that expensive—hell, he could probably get glass seats for what he paid for his upper-level ticket in Atlanta. Then hey, maybe Daniel would recognize him! Okay, probably not, but what would the harm be in showing up on opening night? He’d barely been able to tell which player Daniel was on the ice when he went to that game in Atlanta, so at least this way, he’d be able to welcome Daniel back as part of the crowd and see him actually playing the game he’d loved since they were kids.

And Cody was from Iowa, where they might not have had dolphins in the wild but they did have hockey, so he could explain what was going on just in case the game was televised and Micah ended up looking bewildered on television or something.

The aquarium did have a standing arrangement and a sponsorship with the arena, and it was far enough away that he could check the schedule for night events and make sure he didn’t have to work. Even if Daniel didn’t notice him, it would still be neat to see his old friend being a badass. If Cody was right, maybe Daniel really would remember him.

Or security would escort him out and ban him from ever attending a game again. Hopefully not that.

Chapter Five

It was weird being in his thirties and feeling like the new kid again. One NHL dressing room might be much the same as any other, but it was the people who brought it to life. For all the excitement in the Thunder’s dressing room on opening night...well, the word tomblike came to mind.

No Morley cracking inappropriate jokes. No Ryu with his quiet snark. No encouragement or sweet, sunny smiles from Tristan. Hell, in the uneasy silence, Daniel even yearned for his old coach, Clancy Adams, who basically operated at only two volumes: yelling or growling.

As he laced up his skates, Daniel looked around the room. The veteran Thunder players already appeared braced for a loss, which was depressing as shit but not exactly surprising given their abysmal record in the preseason. The few other newly signed players weren’t saying much and seemed as perplexed as Daniel himself. And the captain, a twentysomething French defenseman named Cedric Texier, seethed with open hostility and constantly side-eyed Daniel like he’d caught him trying to steal his lucky jockstrap.

The behavior was bizarre enough to prompt a flashback to Daniel’s early teens, when he’d left Florida to start high school and play junior hockey in Chicago. Not even then had he felt this awkward. The atmosphere in the Thunder’s dressing room was unparalleled, and for a moment, he second-guessed his decision.

Daniel had expected some excitement. Hope, determination, a sense of purpose, anything. Instead, he’d found grief and a resignation to failure, and the regular season had yet to begin.

He didn’t understand. Sure, it sucked being the joke of the league. The underdog of all underdogs. Last in everything down to ticket sales. But this was still the greatest league in the world, and they were part of it. They had contracts plenty of other aspiring pro hockey players would envy. Why this much negativity already? How could they turn things around when they expected to lose?

Daniel straightened up. If no one else was going to say anything uplifting—not even the coaches, who hadn’t shown their faces yet—he might as well give it a shot. “Hey, guys.” He didn’t have to clear his throat or raise his voice to try to get everyone’s attention. “I know the preseason was less than stellar. We’re just having some growing pains, working out the kinks. You know how it is—we have to find our rhythm, and once we do, we’ll be moving in sync, building chemistry, and winning games. Let’s go out there and give the crowd something to be hopeful about!”

One of the other new players, Demetrius Cole, a quick center with rich umber skin, dark eyes, and hair buzzed so short he was nearly bald, lifted an arm. “Hear fucking hear, man. I’m already