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I’m being replaced.
This is important, I coach internally, glancing at the paperwork. You can do this. Just read the first line so you know what it says.
Narrowing my gaze, I focus on the jumble of characters I know must really be words. Some of them are clusters I’ve memorized.
I see my full name first. That feels like a bad sign.
This is a legal document.
There are some numbers, which probably form a date of some sort. The rest are small words like “on” and “for.” The stuff in between is gibberish to me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What do I do? Do I tell Cassian I literally can’t read this?
I’ve avoided telling anyone for fifteen years. Ever since I told my father, and he started calling me Dipshit instead of Damon.
I wonder if Remi has put it together yet. She’s so smart, it wouldn’t surprise me. Although, I’m sure if she had, she would treat me differently. At least a little bit.
There have only been a handful of people who noticed my deficiency, but every single one of them definitely lost some respect for me after they knew. I wonder how bad it will be whenever Remi finally realizes…
I actually can’t think about it too hard, or my lungs stop working.
We go over a pothole, jostling the car, and Cass cuts me a sideways look. “What does the rest of the paperwork say? I only looked at the first page.”
Oh, God, this isn’t working.
I snap my eyes closed and hunch over my lap, thrusting the papers over to my packmate. “Here. I can’t—just tell me what they say.”
There’s a long beat of silence before he takes the document. And another one after he shuffles the papers around. “It’s actually not as bad as I thought,” he murmurs. “Nothing is decided. They’ve put your contract in review, pending the playoffs.”
My mind spins and I realize it’s because I’m not breathing. When I force myself to inhale, it all makes sense in the worst fucking way.
They have Gunnar. He can do what I do, almost as well, for a lot less money. If they sever my contract, I’ll be on a different team, in another state. Or I’ll be nothing at all.
I doubt Remi will want to be bonded to an alpha who can’t be with her for any of her heats. Or any of the other shit. Good days, bad days, anniversaries, birthdays.
An image of her blue-gold eyes, shining with tears while she described years of hating her birthday looms in my head. I have a whole plan to make sure she never spends the day feeling alone again.
What if I won’t even be there?
That can never happen. I promised her she wouldn’t be alone anymore. I swore we would take care of her, together.
Frantic, the wheels in my head spin faster, trying to churn up some sort of solution.
I could quit. Stop playing hockey and stay home and?—
What? Without this career, I’ll have none at all. It’s not like I can do anything else. I can’t even read the damn paperwork telling me I have to do something else.
And I can’t leave Remi. I won’t.
So, basically, I have to crush the playoffs. Or walk away and show everyone what a disappointment I really am.
A low wave of fury rolls off Cass. “Some warning would have been nice. And giving you this shit on the road? Jesus.”
He has a point. It was a dick move to wait until we finished our road series to tell me. Strategic, but shitty. I won most of these games, with a little help from Gunnar. That’s not to say the rookie couldn’t have pulled it off, but that’s not the point.
They used me, knowing they were going to put me through this.
My throat is sticky as I force a swallow. “What can I do?”
