Page 36

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jared

I pop the top off my pill bottle, shake one into my palm, and swallow it dry. The chalky bitterness hits the back of my throat, but it’s better than the acid clawing at my stomach lining.

Stress ulcers. Fantastic. I glance at the clock on Coach Nate’s wall. He’s late, but I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to face this either.

The meeting earlier is still rattling around in my head like a bad echo. Merge the teams, build the strongest franchise. That’s what the suits said, like it’s a goddamn video game and not real people’s careers on the line.

The door creaks open, and Nate Thorne strides in, looking as exhausted as I feel. He tosses his clipboard on the desk and slumps into the chair across from me.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” I reply, though it’s not. “How was practice?”

“Disaster,” he says flatly. “Morale’s in the gutter. Everyone’s skating like they’ve already been traded.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “But let’s talk next steps. What’s the latest?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s not looking good, Nate. The higher-ups are set on this merger. To them, it’s the only way to dominate the league. Doesn’t matter how it impacts the players or the fans.”

Nate snorts. “Figures. Let me guess, they’re all about the bottom line?”

“Of course,” I say bitterly. “And when I brought up how this is gonna crush morale? Some genius suggested we should get a mascot to boost team spirit.”

Nate blinks at me, then laughs—an incredulous, almost manic laugh. “A mascot? Are you kidding me? What in the actual fuck is that supposed to solve? Dress someone up in a fuzzy suit and pretend everything’s fine?”

“Apparently,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “I almost walked out right then and there.”

“You should’ve,” Nate says, shaking his head. “Hell, I might’ve followed you.”

I glance at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He exhales slowly, staring at a spot on the wall. “If this deal goes through... Jared, I’m not sure I’ll stick around to see it. Watching my team—my guys—get gutted like this? I don’t think I can do it.”

My stomach twists, and it’s not just the ulcers. “You’re saying you’d quit?”

Nate looks me in the eye, his expression grim. “Yeah. I think I would.”

“You can’t be serious,” I say, my voice rising.

“I’ve never been more serious,” he says, standing. “I love this team, Jared. But if this merger happens, it won’t be our team anymore. It’ll be some Frankenstein mashup of egos and marketing strategies. That’s not hockey. Not to me.”

I stare at him, trying to process what this means. If Nate walks, everything falls apart. The players look up to him. Hell, half of them would probably follow him out the door.

“Nate, come on,” I say, standing too. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We can still figure this out.”

He pats my shoulder, but there’s no comfort in it. “I’m sorry, Jared. I’ve gotta think about what’s best for me, too. You should do the same.”

Before I can say anything else, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the office with a million questions and no answers.

This is bad. Really bad.

The buzz of my phone slices through the fog in my head as I step out of Nate’s office. My hand automatically grabs it, the screen flashing an unknown number. Just great. I brace myself and answer.

“Jared Maddox.”

“Mr. Maddox, this is Judge Harmon’s office. I’m calling regarding the matter involving Noah’s guardianship.”

My stomach churns. “What about it?”

“The judge requires a DNA test to confirm paternity before we proceed further. You’ll need to arrange it as soon as possible.”

A headache blooms right between my eyes. Of course. Just pile more shit on top. “Fine. I’ll get it done.”

“Thank you, sir. Please ensure it’s expedited. The case depends on it.”

“Yeah, I got it,” I say, hanging up before they can say anything else.

The headache’s drilling now, relentless. I rub my temple, feeling the throbbing build. My life is spinning out of control, and now this? A DNA test. I need to talk to Troy and Jamie. I need to figure this out, but my brain feels like it’s on a fucking loop of chaos.

I’m halfway down the hall, heading for the parking lot, when I run into Declan. Literally.

“Whoa, sorry, man,” he says, catching himself.

“It’s fine,” I mutter, sidestepping him.

“Hold up,” Declan says, grabbing my arm. “You okay? You look like you’re ready to put your head through a wall.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Not far off.”

He doesn’t let go. His face is serious, the usual cocky grin gone. “I’ve been thinking about all this...the merger, the team, everything.” He pauses, like he’s trying to find the right words. “I might step out. Retire, you know?”

I stop dead. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m serious,” he says quietly. “This isn’t what I signed up for. If they’re gonna tear this team apart, what’s the point? Maybe it’s time I call it.”

“Declan, don’t,” I snap. “Don’t even say that. You’re one of the best players we’ve got. We need you.”

“Do you? Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore,” he shoots back, his voice sharp. “It feels like we’re just pawns in some big corporate game. And I’m fucking tired of it.”

I grab his shoulder, forcing him to look at me. “Listen to me. I’ll fix this, okay? I don’t know how yet, but I will. You’ve gotta trust me.”

He stares at me for a long moment, then nods. “All right. But you better be sure, Maddox. ‘Cause I’m this close to walking.” He holds up his fingers and they’re barely an inch apart.

“I’ll fix it,” I repeat, more to myself than him.

He steps away, heading toward the locker room. I stand there for a second, trying to breathe, trying to think.

Then I make it to my car, slam the door shut, and lose it.

“Fuck!” I yell, slamming my fists into the steering wheel. Once, twice, three times. The horn blares, but I don’t care. Everything’s going to shit. The merger, the team, Noah, my fucking ulcers—I can’t keep up with it all.

I sit back, my chest heaving, the wheel indenting into my hands. My phone buzzes again, but I don’t even look at it. I just sit there, staring at nothing, trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to hold this all together.