Page 47

In the silent office, he glared at both of us. “The most pressing question I have right now is, can the two of you idiots play on the same team? Or do I need to have Eric start shopping one of you around for a trade?”

Oh fuck. We did not need the general manager getting involved.

“I don’t have a problem playing on the same team as him,” I said evenly.

“I don’t either,” Chats said, sounding perfectly media-trained and professional.

Coach’s eyes flicked back and forth between us. “So… why are we having this conversation? What exactly is going on here?”

Neither of us answered.

Coach huffed an impatient breath. “Is this about him taking up with your ex-husband?”

I winced. Then I looked pointedly at Chats. He could answer this one.

“It’s just chirping, Coach,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t think he’d take it that seriously.”

I pressed my lips together so hard I was surprised my teeth didn’t break through them.

Coach eyed Chats. Then me. Then Chats again. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Can I trust you two to put a lid on this particular brand of chirping going forward?”

“Yeah, Coach,” we both said. What else could we do? At least this way, Coach was giving Chats some rope. If I didn’t let myself react to any of his taunting going forward, he’d hang himself. Problem solved. I could do that.

And that was probably what Coach was angling for—some way for his grown-ass adult players to iron their shit out without him needing to seriously intervene.

Fine by me as long as the bullshit actually stopped.

Coach dismissed us, but I didn’t get far.

“Trev.”

I stopped just shy of the door. So did Chats.

“You can go, Chats.” Coach gestured at me. “Close the door and sit back down.”

My heart jumped into my throat. I didn’t dare look at Chats, and I did as I was told.

When we were alone again, Coach sighed and folded his hands on the desk. “Look, I’m not stupid. I can see what’s going on here.” He shook his head. “You’re not the problem.”

Swallowing hard, I nodded. There was a “but” coming. I could hear it from a mile away.

Coach pushed out a long breath. “I’m going to have to get Eric involved at this point.

I can’t let it escalate beyond where it already has.

And son, if the decision was mine, you wouldn’t be the one getting traded.

” He grimaced. “But I can’t promise Eric will agree.

With as volatile as this is getting—with as volatile as it has the potential to get—Eric might ask you to waive your no-move clause. ”

My stomach somersaulted. I’d known that was a possibility, but hearing someone actually say it turned my blood to ice. “And if I say no?”

He shrugged tightly. “Don’t count on getting re-signed.”

My heart sank, and I wanted to argue, but…

I really couldn’t. Trading me would keep me playing.

If I wasn’t re-signed, and especially if the other GMs knew why I wasn’t re-signed, they’d probably assume I was the problem child.

I was the gay player who couldn’t keep his personal life out of the locker room and couldn’t resolve my issues with a teammate.

I wouldn’t be a very enticing unrestricted free agent with that much baggage.

Fucking hell.

“I understand,” I whispered. “And I know it’s not the club’s problem, but if I get traded out of Pittsburgh…” My throat tightened, and I muffled a cough. “The custody agreement I have for my kids…”

Coach winced. “I understand. I do.”

He didn’t have to say it, though. The club was—and had to be—every general manager’s top priority.

It wasn’t at all unusual for fathers to be traded to the opposite coast from their spouses and kids.

Some families didn’t even bother to move with their player because there was no guarantee he’d be there long enough to be worth the effort.

They’d spend the regular season doing the long-distance thing, and then he’d go home for the off-season.

Well, most of the time; the pandemic had kept families separated on opposite sides of the US-Canada border.

I had literal nightmares about being traded somewhere and having something like that happen again.

Even without another pandemic or crisis, the fact was that if I was traded…

my kids weren’t coming with me. The judge had made that very clear.

Our custody agreement had a clause that if I was traded or signed with another team, we’d switch to an amended version.

It would reflect the new living situation, and during the off-season, we’d have our normal joint custody, plus some extended periods for me.

For the regular and postseason, though, I’d be, at best , a one-weekend-a-month dad.

My team’s front office was aware of this, but they could still ask me to waive my no-move clause to resolve the shit between Chats and me. And if I didn’t, they could just… not re-sign me.

It didn’t matter that Chats was the instigator. The two of us together made for a toxic locker room, and Eric was going to unfuck that in the most inexpensive and advantageous way he could.

Which most likely meant that if Chats and I didn’t fix our shit, my days in Pittsburgh were numbered.

After we’d returned to the hotel and I was alone in my room, my mood started to dim even more. My thoughts had been stuck on the exchange with Chats, as well as the one with our coach.

I liked to think my teammates backing me against Chats would work in my favor if Coach or Eric needed to get rid of one of us, but I wasn’t optimistic.

Eric wouldn’t look past the numbers unless things really got out of hand and Chats proved himself to be a cancer in the locker room.

One who caused issued with multiple teammates or staff members.

To my knowledge, Chats only fucked with me, so if the club got rid of one of us, the problem would be solved without costing the team more money than necessary.

Which meant I really didn’t have much of a choice except to ignore him as much as possible and to not take his bait.

But it also made me realize how tenuous my situation was, and not just with Chats. If I didn’t toe the line on the team, I’d be sent someplace else where I wouldn’t be able to see my kids often. And if I fucked up on the home front, I’d lose what little time I had with them.

Chats had somehow picked up that I was, at the very least, hooking up with Cam. So had Hoes and Bells. Which meant we weren’t being as discreet as we probably should’ve been, at least while we were finding our footing together.

And… what if we didn’t find our footing together? What if we realized that even as mature adults, we couldn’t make it work any more than we had as teenagers?

I wiped my hand over my face. If I fucked up in my handling of Chats, I could end up anywhere else in the League, far away from my kids. If I fucked up with Cam , I could lose him as my boyfriend, my friend, and the man who took care of my kids. I could lose custody of Zach and Zane.

I swore under my breath and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. I’d been so caught up in how good it felt to be with Cam—not to mention how relieved I was to have my childcare situation squared away—that I hadn’t stepped back to look at the big picture.

I could lose my kids over this.

Not completely, of course. I’d still be one of their dads, and I’d still see them.

But if things got worse with Chats or they imploded with Cam, and I couldn’t find another live-in nanny to take care of my kids when I wasn’t home, I’d have my custody reduced to one or two weekends a month.

And those weekends could easily fall during road trips or when I had back-to-back games.

How flexible would Bryan be about that? Would I have to take him back to court for it?

Would the boys resent me because the only times I saw them were still dominated by hockey?

I didn’t even give a shit that Bryan would undoubtedly ream me for child support. I didn’t care about the money—I cared about having a relationship with my sons.

I cared about not failing as their father, and now I was worried sick that I was going to do exactly that.

I couldn’t lose what little time I had with the twins already. And that meant I couldn’t lose Cam as their nanny. Not until I could line someone else up to take his place.

But then he’d be out of a job. And I’d probably lose my friend, not to mention the man I was quickly starting to feel things for that I thought I’d forgotten how to feel.

How the hell do I do this without ruining my relationships with three of the most important people in my life?