Page 130 of The Tryout

Clearly, Finn is unsure – I know he’d been hoping to avoid hockey entirely for a few days. Ethan seems to understand.

“You can say no. He’ll live. After all, Avery might not want to spend his last day in town meeting your agent.”

On the other end of the line, Jack seems to have feelings about this, but Ethan chooses not to pass them on.

I look at Finn, a question in my eyes.

“I mean…you haven’t met him yet, right? Might be a good idea. I can come or not, whichever you prefer.”

Considering his answer, he turns back to Ethan.

“Sure, we’ll meet with him.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

FINN

Jack takes the first morning flight out of New York and with the time zone change, he arrives in time to take Avery and I for brunch. He picks a place downtown that is probably busy at dinner time, but is almost empty the morning after Christmas.

As I sit in the booth, I find myself a little glad I never got a chance to meet this man in person before I hired him. He was an enforcer when he played, and unlike a lot of older former athletes who let their muscle deteriorate and their bulk turn to flab, he looks like he might still be able to out-lift me at the gym. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to have to sit opposite him at a negotiating table.

If Avery feels the same level of intimidation, he doesn’t let it show, giving the man a strong handshake before sitting down next to me.

“Boys, thanks for grabbing a meal with me.”

“Oh, uh, of course. I mean, you didn’t need to fly in just for this.”

Honestly, I kind of wish he hadn’t.

“Mm. Good for the front office to know I’m always watching.”

Avery seems to agree.

“Absolutely. Especially with this Zach Price situation.”

The two lock eyes, a knowing gaze that I’m not part of.

“What…what Zach Price situation?”

The question sounds stupid even to me. Obviously the situation is his trade. But why would Jack be involved in that?

“Son, you gotta know that Price being traded is probably the best thing that could have happened to your career.”

I look at Avery, hoping he’ll explain.

“I mean, the Huskies made it clear in the trade that they didn’t need a winger, that they’ve already got a plan. That can only be good for you.”

“It can?”

Avery puts his hand on my thigh, the sort of discrete-but-public claiming that he’d been avoiding before our conversation the other night.

“Baby, you’re the winger. You’re the plan.”

As those words sink in, a server approaches the table.

I’m the plan?

I mean, I know I’m here now, but I always figured when the rosters unfreeze in a few days, I’d get sent back to Iowa and someone else would come up for a few weeks.