Trade Deadline - Avon Gale Page 0,87

the team not wanting to sign Daniel again wasn’t one of them. He frowned, then scowled. “What the hell? You’re leading the team in points and your plus-minus is way above the league average.”

Daniel blinked, then smiled. “Someone’s been studying stats.”

Micah flushed. “Look, I like science! Anyway, I’m not wrong.”

“Nope, but it’s less about how I’m doing and more about the rest of the team. They’re gonna rebuild.” Daniel explained what that meant, how a team that was doing pretty badly over a few seasons would “sell off” their assets—their good players—and build from the ground up, from the coaching staff to new and usually less experienced players. “The thought is that a bunch of younger guys and a new staff will build a bond, and after a few years, be a force to be reckoned with. But they know it won’t happen overnight, unlike what they apparently thought would happen with me.”

Micah didn’t miss the bitter tone to Daniel’s words, and he had to admit that he hated hearing it—Daniel wasn’t a bitter guy. “You’ve done a lot for the team, though.”

“They said it wasn’t personal, and...there’s really only so much I could even do, you know?” Daniel leaned back against the counter and swirled his wine. “I made this decision, to come here, because I thought I could play a few seasons before I retired. Not play half a season and pick up and move again.”

Micah frowned. “Half a season? You mean, you have to stop playing if they decide not to sign you?” He didn’t think it worked that way.

Daniel shook his head. “No, I could, but there’s been an offer for me to play somewhere else.”

And that, of course, was the thing Micah had been worried about. Daniel had told him he had a no-trade clause, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t accept a trade offer if he wanted. He’d signed with the Thunder as an unrestricted free agent, which essentially—at least to Micah’s understanding—meant he could go where he wanted without his current team having any real say-so.

“Where?” Micah asked, setting his wine aside. Dinner was getting cold, probably, but he wasn’t hungry.

“Seattle, but that’s not feasible. And...the Venom want me back,” Daniel said. “They’ve offered me a contract for the rest of this season, and the next.”

Micah was quiet. He didn’t know what to say—on the one hand, he knew how much Daniel missed playing with his old teammates. On the other, Daniel was right—he had built a life here with the expectations he would be staying. Tabby and the kids, and his parents. And then this relationship; Micah knew Daniel hadn’t gotten into it thinking it was just a fling. “Oh. Well, that’s—good, right?” Atlanta wasn’t ideal, but it was better than Seattle for sure.

“It’s nice to know they would want me, sure.” Daniel sighed. “Micah, I’m sorry. I never thought this would happen.”

Micah gave him as much of a smile as he could muster. “Obviously.” He knew that, of course he did. This was everything he worried about, and here it was, happening just like Micah worried that it would. Who said he should be an optimist, again? “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

“Fuck if I know,” Daniel said, bluntly. “My choices are end the season with a team that isn’t having fun and knows it’s off to the chopping block come spring—but do it with my family and my boyfriend—or go play hockey for a team I love with my hockey family, and leave everything else.”

Micah felt for him, because of course, this was harder on Daniel than any of them. “Well, let’s have dinner. You can’t make life-altering decisions on an empty stomach with only wine.” Micah grimaced. “A thing I wish I would have told college freshman me, only replace wine with cheap beer and cheaper vodka.”

Daniel laughed, and as tired as the sound was, it did at least sound genuine. “You’ll have to tell me about college Micah and his bad decisions.”

“Let’s deal with one tangle at a time,” Micah said dryly, and they sat down to eat. The meal was filling and he supposed it was all right, but both he and Daniel ate by rote, as if they weren’t even tasting it. Or at least, Micah was—Daniel finished two helpings and most of the garlic bread. Micah had to shake his head at Daniel’s metabolism. Those abs needed energy, he guessed.

They didn’t talk too much over dinner, but Daniel insisted on doing the