Page 2 of Slew Foot (Scoring Chances #3)

“You’re leaving ?”

“Yep.” Rafael Moon zipped his carry-on bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Logan Walker shot him a hurt look. “You weren’t even going to tell me about the trade?”

“Nope.”

“Come on!” Logan protested. “I had to find out on social media. That’s cold as hell. I deserved better. We were?—”

“We weren’t anything, apparently,” he said dully. “Remember, you moved on.”

“ Rafe …”

“What?” He swung around and glared at his ex-boyfriend. “You should be thanking me for going. Now you can bring her to team events.”

“Hey! That’s not fair. You knew I was bi when we started dating.”

“I’m not mad at you for dating her because she’s a woman, you ass. I’m mad at you for dating her because I—” He closed his eyes, unable to say the words, “ Because I still love you ,” aloud.

Because he’d embarrassed himself enough when he’d showed up on Christmas Eve at Logan’s place with his favorite meal and drinks hoping to finally fix the argument that had blown up their relationship, only to find him with his new girlfriend.

And from the look of things, they’d just rolled out of bed.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know this trade was coming,” Rafe said instead. Because seriously, how the fuck did Logan think he could keep playing on the same team as him and watch him with this … Kelsey person?

She was probably perfectly great but no, Logan, I don’t want to come in and get to know her. God, what the fuck was wrong with Logan anyway? Who did that? Who invited their ex to come in and meet the new person they were dating when they weren’t even officially broken up?

And no, Logan, we weren’t officially broken up. You have to say the words out loud before it’s true. Not argue and then go all distant and shit.

And no, Logan, having your agent send out a fucking press release saying the relationship is over doesn’t fucking count either! Rafe raged internally.

Who fucking did that? Who did that to someone they loved? Logan Walker, apparently.

Rafe scanned his bedroom to be sure he hadn’t forgotten to pack anything he’d desperately need in the next couple of weeks.

He didn’t own much anyway, and he’d tossed what he did own into boxes already.

Zach, one of his buddies, was going to let the movers in next week and make sure the rest of it got shipped to him in Boston where it would stay in one of those pod thingys until he found a new place.

When Rafe yanked open the drawer to his nightstand, a couple of condom packets came skittering out from the back, missed when he’d pulled out the other shit this morning.

Meh, not like I’m going to need those , he thought bitterly, shutting the drawer as hard as he’d opened it. Because unlike Logan, his attraction to someone else was slow to start and he couldn’t just … move on.

Sure he had everything he needed, Rafe grabbed his carry-on and his suitcase, then walked out of the bedroom, shutting off the light behind him and leaving Logan sputtering in the darkness.

Petty? Maybe. But it felt kinda good. It wasn’t like he was going to slash Logan’s tires or something. But it served him right when he was the one who had left Rafe in the dark about their relationship being over .

Rafe strode toward the apartment’s exit, and Logan scrambled to catch up.

“I thought you’d talk to me before you requested a trade,” Logan said.

“I didn’t request it,” he pointed out as he stuck his head in the bathroom to be sure there was nothing important he’d forgotten in there. “Racine’s been calling for a while. I finally agreed to talk. And you know what? At least he wants me.”

Unlike Logan and Asa Jackson—the Minnesota Acorns’ GM—Gavin Racine wanted him in Boston.

Rafe was sick and fucking tired of feeling unwanted.

“The team still wants you here,” Logan protested.

The team . It was always about the fucking team with Logan, wasn’t it? He cared more about the team than he’d ever cared about Rafe.

Ignoring that, Rafe dragged his suitcase behind him as he went into the living room and looked around. Shit, he’d almost forgotten his Nintendo Switch. He swiped it off the entertainment center, grabbed the charger, and stuffed all of it in his already full carry-on.

“The team will be fucking glad I’m leaving. I’ve been playing like shit since our argument and we both know it.”

Because it was an argument, Logan, not a breakup!

After grabbing his coat and doing one final scan of his apartment, Rafe held out his hand, palm up. “I need your key back.”

Hurt flashed across Logan’s face and Rafe wanted to shake him. That was what he was hurt about? Not the breakup, but Rafe needing to give the spare key to the leasing company?

Logan fumbled in his pocket before pulling his keys out, twisting a silver one around the ring until it came loose. He slapped it into Rafe’s palm, and Rafe tried not to flinch at the touch.

Or, worse, grab his hand and hang on. God this sucked .

He tucked the key into his own pocket with a mental note to give it to Zach along with the one on his keychain when he picked him up. Speaking of … He glanced at his phone to see a message from his buddy that had come in ten minutes ago.

OMW.

Zach might be a man of few words but when he said he was on his way, he meant it. Which, since he lived close, meant he’d be here in about five minutes. Perfect.

Rafe opened the apartment door and gestured for Logan to leave.

He huffed but did it anyway. Rafe flicked out the lights and followed, letting the door close behind him.

Well, that was it. The end of an era.

Rafe walked down the hall toward the elevator as he tried not to think about all the firsts that had happened in the apartment. The first time he’d invited Logan to hang out. Their first kiss. The first time they’d had sex.

And then he flinched as he thought about the last times they’d done those things too.

Because Logan wouldn’t even leave him to deal with all this shit in peace, he followed Rafe into the elevator.

Rafe leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. It had been a whirlwind since his conversation yesterday morning with Gavin about the trade. Talks with his agent. Packing his shit and planning this move. Trying to accept he was a Boston Harrier now, not a Minnesota Acorn.

Ahh well, he had a red-eye flight to Boston tonight. Hopefully he’d be able to nap on the plane.

The lobby was empty when Rafe stepped out into it with Logan still on his heels.

He glanced through the windows to see if Zach’s car was out there. No, not yet. Ugh, and it was beginning to snow. He’d thought it wasn’t supposed to start until after he left Minneapolis.

Fuck, he better be able to leave.

Rafe parked his suitcase, then set his carry-on beside it, hoping Logan would finally go away now. Instead, he stepped up beside Rafe, close enough their arms brushed, staring out the window too.

Rafe’s throat went tight and he shifted a little, enough to get away from the touch. A part of him wanted Logan to get down on his knees and say he’d made a mistake. Beg him to re-consider.

But the trade had been made, and they both knew Logan wasn’t the type to beg. Even if he wanted to. And he had Kelsey now.

Clearly, he didn’t want to.

Silently, Rafe watched the fluffy white flakes come down, harder and harder with every second that passed. It was a relief when Zach’s car finally pulled up, fishtailing on the slippery pavement.

Rafe shrugged on his coat, slung his bag over his shoulder, and reached for the handle of his suitcase.

“So, you’re running away?” Logan asked, sounding hurt. “Not even a hug or a ‘goodbye, man’? C’mon, we agreed if we started dating and it didn’t work out, we’d act like adults.”

For the first time in a damn long time, Rafe looked his ex in the eye and held his gaze. “Yeah, I’m running away. There’s nothing left for me here in Minnesota.”

Mickey Krause settled into a seat in the room the team used for video review, then glanced over at Tanner Clayton with a frown. “What do you think this meeting is about?”

“I dunno,” Tanner said, frowning too. It was an odd expression on his typically cheerful looking face. “Must be big though, if Racine called it.”

“That was my thought too.” Mickey’s frown deepened as he stared at Gavin Racine, the team’s general manager and president of hockey ops.

He was deep in conversation with Hoyt Kent and Aksel Rasmussen—the team’s head and associate coaches.

Hmm .

Racine was a lot more hands-on than most GMs, but he wasn’t exactly known for calling sit-down group meetings.

He liked to meet with guys one-on-one, to check in, but to address the entire team, he was more likely to pop his head into the locker room or even stop into video reviews and say a few words.

He liked to come across as casual and approachable.

But a formal meeting? That sent a shiver of unease down even Mickey’s practical and refuse-to-leap-to-conclusions spine. That didn’t seem promising.

The team was playing badly, no question about that, but surely that didn’t warrant a meeting like this.

“Maybe they’re going to sell the franchise,” Tanner hissed under his breath. “Like, to a new ownership group! Ooh, or maybe they’re moving the team to another city!”

Mickey rolled his eyes at Tanner’s dramatics.

After nearly five months, he should be used to his teammate and roommate by now, but Tanner was incessantly prone to coming up with the wildest theories and, unlike Mickey, leaping to conclusions before he had the facts.

Mickey’s eyes were getting more of a workout these days than the rest of him. And, since this was his rookie season in the NHL, that was saying something.

“Shit, we’re moving to another city?” Crawford asked—loudly—in his ear as he leaned forward.

At the front of the room, Gavin Racine’s head went up and he glanced around, brow furrowed. He was dressed in a pair of well-tailored black trousers and a black zip-front workout jacket with the team’s logo on the breast pocket.

“Guys!” he called out. “We’re not moving the team.”