Trade Deadline - Avon Gale Page 0,83

me up in my wetsuit.”

“Triple threat, huh? I know hockey, surfing...what’s my other undeniable, championship-level skill?”

Micah gave him a smirk.

Daniel, the dork, blushed and said, “I think maybe that’s you.”

“If you think it’s a maybe, then we should just go right to my place,” Micah said, slyly. He had to laugh as Daniel immediately acted as if he were going to in fact change directions and head to Micah’s house. “But you’re still getting me that milkshake. Except, hey, maybe a hot chocolate. Gotta warm up.”

“Before we get in the ocean?”

“Yeah, the warm ocean, because it’s Florida. Now, about that hot chocolate.” Micah rubbed a hand over Daniel’s knee, content and happy with the entire afternoon and life in general. Maybe it couldn’t always be like this, but for today, he was going to enjoy himself.

Chapter Twenty-One

A little over a week before the trade deadline, Daniel walked into the Thunder’s arena, his agent Clarke at his side. They were there for a meeting with management, and even though it was pre-planned and Daniel had known it was coming for days, it had still felt like arming himself for battle as he dressed carefully in his best game-day suit that morning.

As a hockey player, he’d been fortunate to have spent most of his career on one team. He hadn’t avoided conversations or contract negotiations, but he’d always gone into those meetings secure in his position with the team. He’d known he was wanted, and it was just a matter of getting the financials squared away. He’d never felt like excess fat that needed to be trimmed off a steak, the way he did today.

Deep down, Daniel knew it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t connected with the team the way everyone had hoped he would at the start of the season. In his opinion, the Thunder had been so beaten down the last few seasons, very few players on the team even wanted to be there anymore. They weren’t willing to give it their all because it felt like a wasted effort. Night after night walking into an arena flooded with fans from the opposing team. Being jeered by the home crowd. No player who loved this game could ignore that forever. Either the arena was half empty or, if it was full, the people in the stands weren’t cheering for the Thunder. That was really rough on the ego.

With Demetrius gone to the Monarchs, Daniel’s connection to the team felt even more tenuous. Despite the improvement in his relationship with Cedric over the last few months, reaching an understanding was one thing—actually bonding as teammates was quite another. Cedric had relaxed enough to occasionally joke with Daniel in the dressing room, but whatever camaraderie they’d developed seemed tentative at best.

The biggest issue was, no one could possibly feel secure on a team that might be one loss away from being axed from the league. Poor ticket sales, miserable stats, disconnected players. There’d come a time when the NHL decided the Thunder weren’t worth the investment or financial losses anymore. They’d sell the franchise to another city or shut it down entirely, the players would scatter to the four winds, and the Thunder would become just another defunct hockey team listed in an entry on Wikipedia. End of story.

But Daniel didn’t want this to be the end of his story, too. He wasn’t ready to quit hockey. The sport had been such a huge part of his identity since childhood. He didn’t know what or who he’d be without it. But there were other ways to be involved in the game instead of actively playing—and that was something he needed to remember when he was feeling particularly insecure about his future.

“I can see how worried you are,” Clarke said from beside him as they made their way to one of the conference rooms. “I know this isn’t how you saw the season going, Daniel, but opportunity isn’t finished knocking at your door, okay? I’ve been talking to some people. We’ll find you a place, no matter what happens today.”

The platitude sounded like something from a cheesy motivational poster, and yet, it comforted Daniel anyway. If Clarke felt confident, maybe there was still hope for him. Even if the Thunder decided they were done with Daniel Bellamy, he had value.

They entered the room to find the general manager, Mark Hubbard, and his assistant, Vladimir, who’d proposed the original offer from the Thunder to Daniel at his last meeting as a Venom player.

There