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CHAPTER 1

MILLER

Sweat beaded across my brow, dripping into my eyes as I pulled myself forward on the rowing machine. It might only be the start of preseason conditioning, but as the current winners of the Stanley Cup, the Chicago Ice Foxes wanted a repeat. There was no slacking allowed. Especially if I wanted a more active role on the ice and in the win.

Guilt swamped me at the thought. I had a contract in the NHL with a winning team. I should be happy to play the sport I loved, even if the playing time was minimal. I was here. On a winning team. And I had a shot at the first line. Eventually. After some of the starters retired. What was a few years?

I was young, healthy, and living the dream.

So why did it feel so empty? Why wasn’t it enough?

My team had won the Stanley Cup, and I was upset I hadn’t gotten to play for more than a few minutes of the series. My mom would tell me I sounded like a spoiled brat and to count my blessings.

And there was the guilt again.

Against all odds, I’d made it into the NHL. I had my own apartment and recently bought my first car. Considering where I’d grown up, my life in Chicago was a drastic change. However, even acknowledging my blessings and hating the guilt that clawed at my throat, I couldn’t shake off the melancholy. I wanted more.

I wanted to be an active participant instead of a passenger in my life.

I wanted to share it with someone.

I wanted to feel that all-consuming spark.

I’d only felt that spark once, but it had been world changing. A brief touch of his hand had shifted my world on its axis.

A hand slapped onto my shoulder, and I faltered the pulley with the break in my concentration. One of the trainers stood behind me, his lips moving, but I couldn’t understand him. Realization dawned on me that I still had my earpods in. Yanking one free, I turned my head toward him.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

He chuckled. “I said you were going to row the machine into the mirror if you kept pulling it that hard.”

My face flamed, but I hoped he thought it was from exertion and not embarrassment. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Too nice, Fahn.” He shook his head with a sigh. “Go cool down. You’ve met your quota for today.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he waved me off. “No arguing. I know you want to impress the coaches but overexerting yourself isn’t how to do it. Cool down and then shower. You stink.” He slapped me on the back and yelled at someone else.

My muscles protested as I climbed off, proving he was right. I was close to overexertion and hadn’t noticed. Wiping the sweat off my face, I downed my water and went over to the bikes to cool down. A few of the veteran players nodded as I approached. I wasn’t close to any of them, but they were friendly.

I zoned out as I peddled, slowing my heart rate as I cooled down. That was part of my problem with this team. I didn’t have a group of friends like I’d had in college. Playing at Carrington had been a dream come true, and the connections I’d made there had been strong. In fact, I still wasn’t convinced I hadn’t been signed to Chicago as a favor to my friend Reese.

Reese’s brother-in-law, Fletcher, owned the team, and I always wondered why Chicago was interested when no one else had been.

Not that I was a lousy player. I wasn’t. My stats in college were in the top five of left wingers, and our team had won the Frozen Four back-to-back. I was a good teammate, avoided scandals, and didn't spend a lot of time in the penalty box.

So why hadn’t I received offers like my teammates had?

The only thing I could pinpoint was my sexuality.

It had been a risk to disclose it, but I wasn’t someone who could deny or hide who they were. The instant I realized I was gay, I came out to my team and, subsequently, the hockey world.

Sometimes, I wondered if things would’ve been different if I had been able to keep it hidden. But I dismissed that line of thinking. I couldn’t turn back time any more than I could lie about who I was. It just wasn’t in my nature, so there was no use entertaining the ‘what-ifs.’

I slowed my bike as the timer counted down, and the conversation around me filtered through my inner ramblings and piqued my interest.

“Did you hear about Anthony? The dude’s gonna be out the entire season. It will be a miracle if he can play again,” Hector said.

“Dumbass,” Amir grunted as he pedaled. “He was always more concerned about impressing people than the game.”

“No shit.” Hector laughed. “Remember when he tried jumping from the balcony into the pool? Honestly, I’m surprised this is the first time he’s hurt himself.”

“What happened?” I interrupted.

“Anthony Michaels thought he could be a waterskiing stuntman or something. Broke both his legs, pelvis, and his right arm.” Hector shook his head.

“Fudge.” My eyes widened at the injuries mentioned.

Amir snorted. “Don’t feel too sorry for him. He’s living it up with his sexy nursemaids.” He and Hector chuckled together as a thought brewed in my head.

“He was a left-winger, wasn’t he?” I asked.

“Yeah. Austin’s gonna be scrambling to replace him. They were tough last year and have a shot at making the playoffs this season.”

Austin, Texas.

My timer beeped, and I jolted at the intrusion. The guys laughed and returned to their conversation about the last of their off-season plans. I hurried off the bike to the showers. An urgency brewed within, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I rushed through my shower, redressed in record time, and was knocking on Coach’s door before I could talk myself out of it.

“Come in.”

I opened the door and swallowed the panic rising. This was so out of character for me, but I couldn’t stop this train now that I was on it.

“Fahn. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering what the likelihood of me getting moved up a line this season was.”

Coach Atkins set down his pen and steepled his hands. He assessed me for a minute before he spoke again. “You’re a good player, Miller, and I think you’ll be a great player with time. With that being said, I don’t see you moving up anytime soon. The guys we have right now work well together, and I have no reason to break that up. That doesn’t mean things won’t change, so keep playing like you are and be ready. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear.”

“No. It’s fine.” I swallowed and took a deep breath. “I figured that was the case, and earlier today, I’d resigned myself to my place. I’ve loved being part of the Ice Foxes, and I’m glad I’ve gotten to play with such caliber players and coaches.”

“All right. Then do you mind me asking what this visit is about? I have a feeling you have a purpose?”

“Yes.” I licked my lips and willed my mouth not to dry out. “I’d like to be considered for a trade.” Coach’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent. “Austin needs a left-winger, and I want to be that guy.”

He stayed quiet as he evaluated me. I stood tall and kept my hands from shaking. Barely.

“You sure about this?”

I nodded. “I know most people will think it’s dumb to leave a winning team, but I didn’t fall in love with hockey just to win. I fell in love with hockey because I love to play the game. The quick-thinking plays, the brutalness of the game, and the knowledge that you left everything out on the ice… that’s what I crave about hockey. I want to be part of a team where I can make a difference, and I don’t have a shot here. Maybe I’m being greedy asking for this, but I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by without trying.”

Coach’s face relaxed at my impassioned speech. “All right. I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises. The GM and owner are the ones who make all these decisions.”

“I understand. Thank you for asking for me.”

He grunted and picked up his phone but paused. “Miller, if I could give you one piece of advice… this passion you just showed in my office? It’s been missing on the ice. I suggest grabbing hold of it and not letting it go the next time you step out there. That’s what will make you go from good to great.”

My cheeks heated, and I nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

I stepped out of his office, headed back to my cubby, and gathered my stuff. I sat and scrolled through my phone, but I wasn’t seeing anything on the screen, so I shoved it back into my bag. A few of my teammates came and went, giving me nods as they passed. My knee bounced as I waited, and I swallowed the urge to vomit, hoping I hadn’t just ruined my career.

When Coach appeared in front of me, I bolted upright and swayed as the blood rushed to my head. “Easy, Fahn.” He steadied me, and I gave him a sheepish smile. “The GM’s ready to meet with you. Did you call your agent?”

I shook my head. Shoot. I’d forgotten all about that. Coach chuckled and moved me toward the door.

“Might want to give him a heads-up on your way there.”

Dazed, I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the locker room. I pulled out my phone and shot off a text that probably made no sense but hopefully would be enough information for my agent not to kill me.

The floor changed from carpet to marble the closer I got to the head offices, and with it, my anxiety grew. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Everyone would think I was crazy. Heck, maybe I was. But that feeling of melancholy earlier had been a wake-up call. That wasn’t who I wanted to be. The money and fame weren’t why I played hockey. They were probably my least favorite things. Talking to the coach, I realized how much I missed playing the game. If I could get that back, maybe it wouldn’t matter if I had no friends or someone to go home to.

If I at least got hockey back, then I could be happy again. Hopefully.

The door was opened, and the GM waved me in. He was on the phone but motioned for me to take a seat. I glanced around the opulent office, but despite the finery, I wasn’t taking any of it in. I was too nervous to focus on the details.

“Sounds good, Chris. I have Miller in my office right now. Uh-huh. I’ll call you back once I have Fletcher on the line.” He hung up and looked at me. “I must say, hearing you wanted a trade wasn’t how I expected to end my day.”

“It wasn’t a planned thing, sir. I love playing for Chicago and the team here, but the opportunity to get more ice time is there.”

“Hmm, well, I’m glad to hear you like playing for my team and that your request to leave isn’t because of dissatisfaction. We strive to ensure our facility and team are inclusive, and if you ever felt?—”

I raised my hand to stop him. “No one has ever made me feel anything other than accepted here. This has nothing to do with my sexuality and everything to do with me being a hockey player who wants to play the game.”

“All right.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Coach assured me that was the case, but I had to ask before something blew up in my face. Normally, I wouldn’t entertain a player’s request to be traded, but Coach spoke up for you and pleaded your case. And it just so happens that Austin has a player I’ve wanted to add to our roster for years.”

My breath caught at the news. Did that mean…

“We still need to iron out the details, and Fletcher would like to speak to you before it’s finalized, but Austin has agreed to our preliminary trade offer. So, if everything goes through, your last day as an Ice Fox could be today.”

Excitement mixed with apprehension filled me with the notion.

The next few hours went by in a whirlwind as I spoke with my agent—who only slightly yelled at me for springing this on him—Fletcher, and Coach Mack from the Austin Aces.

By the time I left the arena, I was exhausted but had a renewed energy in my bones. I’d cleaned out my locker, said goodbye to the few players who were still there, handed in all of my key cards, and said goodbye to the first team who’d given me a chance in the NHL.

My phone buzzed like crazy as I drove home, and when I stepped through my front door, there were several messages and news alerts about the trade. I looked around the apartment, realizing I’d never really made it home despite living here for two years already. I had two days to pack up all my belongings and get to Austin. Not that I would need it. Most of the furniture and decor had come with the apartment.

Deciding to leave it until tomorrow, I fell into bed with my phone in my hand, prepared to ignore everyone. But then I saw my college roommate’s text, and everything inside of me froze.

Landon: Are you really being traded to Austin? That’s my stepbrother’s team. How cool! Do you remember meeting him?

How could I forget the man who not only made me realize I was gay but also that I could feel something so powerful with one touch that no one else had ever compared?

I’d asked for this trade for a chance to feel something again, and somehow, I’d walked myself right into the path of the one man who made me feel too much.

What had I done?