Page 132 of Oathbreaker

What else is there to say? This isn’t Banks’s fault. It’s not even Briar’s, though she could have picked me. She could have?—

Knock it off, McGregor.

That ship has sailed off into the sunset.

And left me on the shore.

“Anyway, I think if I offer myself up in the draft, that saves someone who really wants to stay. And a change of pace will do me good.”

“There’s all kinds of talk about the new franchise,” Banks says thoughtfully. “Personal issues aside, there’s a lot of money going into that team. It might become a great place to play.”

“That’s the plan.” I give him a grin. “Anyway, keep this between us, okay? Right now, everything is on the down low.”

“Absolutely.” He cocks his head, squinting slightly, one side of his mouth quirking up. “You look like shit, by the way.”

“Maybe.” I chuckle. “But there was a lovely lady and a whole lot of tequila.”

He grimaces. “You’re a better man than me—I don’t think I’d be here after a night of tequila.”

“You must be getting old,” I joke.

“Probably.” He laughs and gets to his feet. “See you out there.”

I nod and grab my gloves.

Time to focus on hockey because my days here are numbered.

If Atlanta doesn’t take me, my agent knows I want to be traded.

Briar and Southern California are going to be in the past by summer.

And maybe by then, so will my broken heart.