Page 81 of Penalty Shot

“I’m in the middle of a five-year contract.”

“We passed on the no-trade clause, remember?” she states, and I hear a car start. She must be driving away from my townhouse on her way to bother other people.

“What did the Mavericks say?” I ask past the ball clogging my throat. “About my prospects.”

What I want to ask is:do they already want to get rid of me?Is that how little I matter to this team? Was all that talk about beingcentral to successmere bullshit?

“They aren’t looking to trade you, if that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, they’d probably extend your contract today after how well you came through when Jeremy got injured.”

“Then why the fuck are you giving me a heart attack, Rory?”

“They called me in because they want to make a serious run next year. To build a solid roster, they’re on the market for another top center and at least two more defensemen. Even Sergei Petrov can’t play the whole sixty minutes.”

“So? What does that have to do with me?”

“Read the room, Randall. As much as they want to keep you, you’re first goalie caliber with playoff experience at the price of a second goalie. You’re a golden egg.”

“Let me get this straight. Because I played decently, I’m getting used as bait?”

“You played incredibly,” she states. “The loss was because they relied too much on a few superstars instead of investing in a balanced roster. No one expected the team to get past the first round without Jeremy. You proved them wrong by sailing through the first team and stealing those last three games from Miami.”

“I didn’t steal the one that counted,” I say bitterly.

“You’ll get it next time. Think about this summer as an opportunity. You’re a first goalie, Randall. You could carry ateam. I always believed it, but do you? Don’t you want to be the top man on the net for once?”

Is that what I want?

I’ve always taken comfort occupying the seat behind the bench, where I can have a career as a professional athlete while having manageable stress levels. The last few weeks felt like a roller coaster, full of brutal lows and intense highs.

Although I strive to be a dependable teammate, I never saw myself as one to carry a team.

“I like where I am.”

“Do you? Or are you just scared to put in the work.”

“You’re an agent, not a shrink. Stop reading into it beyond the fact that I like where I am,” I say steadily even though I’m tempted to scream at her. “The city is great; the team is solid.”

And the woman I love is in Ohio. Leaving Columbus would mean leaving Elise, and I can’t. I won’t.

“There are great cities all over the fucking league. And no team is forever. Just promise me you’ll meet a few interested managers this summer. We’re obviously not doing anything during the playoffs, but you should get your head straight. It’s time to see yourself as first, Randall.”

I hear the front door before I see Elise. Shit, how long have we been yapping?

“I gotta go,” I mutter before disconnecting Rory.

“Hey,” Elise greets me upon entering the kitchen. “We had a break for lunch, so I thought I’d run home. Worried you got lost.” Elise goes on tiptoe to brush her lips against my jaw.

“You call that a kiss?” I say, pulling her close and devouring her mouth.

When we come up for air, I trap her against the counter. That’s when I notice it.

“Did you go to work without wearing a bra?” Her nipples are taut against a light sweater.

She shrugs and lifts her arm where the splint is secure under the sweater. My fingers wrap around her ribs before cupping her pert breasts and running tight circles over her nipples. Elise moans.

“Next time, wake me up so I can put it on for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t the 1950s, Randall. No one cares if I’m wearing a bra.”