The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,20

bag and I follow him out of the arena, sliding into the passenger seat of his car.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asks.

“I haven’t had Mexican in ages,” I say after a moment. My stomach rumbles loudly at the suggestion.

“I know a place,” Torsten says, pulling out of the arena and onto the road. He blows out a long sigh. “Today was rough.”

“Tell me about it. Sims is never where he’s supposed to be.”

Torsten grips the top of the steering wheel, glancing at me. “You think East will be ready to play in a few months?” His tone is measured but I hear the uncertainty, the skepticism, underlining his words.

I blow out a breath and gaze out the window. I want my brother to claim the ice in a little over two months and remind everyone, the team, management, fans across Massachusetts and the entire country, that he’s a fucking god on the ice.

But the reality of the situation is that it’s not going to happen. Even if East was in the best shape of his life before rehab, which he wasn’t, he’s certainly going to take a few weeks to find his rhythm again. In the interim, Sims is our best option and everyone is giving him shit. If we don’t start the season strong, it will be tough to change morale and rally for a spot in the play-offs. “I don’t know, man.”

Torsten’s silent for a few moments. “My contract is up at the end of the season,” he says quietly.

I turn and frown at him. “And?”

“And, if the Hawks don’t re-sign me or trade me—”

“Why wouldn’t they re-sign you?”

He chuckles but it’s humorless. “Scotch, I’m nearly thirty-eight years old. The team just called up two rookies. I might not be starting by the end of this season and I know it.”

I hold up a hand, about to refute him, but at the glint in his eyes, I swallow back my words. Torsten has been a cornerstone of the Hawks Franchise for so long, it’s hard to imagine him not playing for the team. It’s even harder to fathom him not playing hockey at all.

“I need this season to be spectacular. I need to perform the best I possibly can every shot I have on the ice. I need this to be our year, to win the Cup. Maybe because it will be my last. But also because it’s my best chance at being re-signed. If I’m not…”

“What?” I ask, frowning. What the hell is Torsten trying to say?

He gives me a look, amusement flaring in his eyes for a second. “I won’t have a visa. I’ll need to head home to Norway.”

I swear, staring at my teammate, my friend, for a long minute.

He turns his gaze back to the road but I continue to process the bomb he just dropped in my lap. Of course I knew Torsten was from Norway, but I never thought about how he lives in the US. I never realized that without hockey, his entire life here wouldn’t be possible.

Torsten Hansen has been in the US since he was nineteen years old. He has investments here, his life is here. What the hell would he even do in Norway to start over at almost forty? I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.

First, we may lose Easton. Our other defenseman, James Ryan, has been mentally absent since his wife passed. Now, Torsten brings up this.

What the hell is happening to my team? How are we going to compete this year with all of our top players, the seasoned guys who know the rhythm, who understand the flow, being pushed to the fringes?

I fix him with a hard stare. “Then we make this our best season.”

Torsten laughs but by the expression that crosses his face, I know he’s worried. Worried and hopeful.

“I’m serious,” I repeat.

He nods, shooting me a sympathetic look. “And if East can’t get it together?”

I blow out a breath, knowing what he’s asking of me, even if it’s indirectly. “Then I’ll get Sims up to speed. I’ll make sure he’s ready. Austin will too.” Fucking hell though. I don’t want to help East’s competition when my loyalty, on every level, belongs to my brother.

But can I watch Torsten leave the team, leave the country, because Easton made a series of choices that landed him back in rehab?

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I shake my head and turn to look back out the window.