Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 99012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
It stopped buzzing, but thirty seconds later it started up again. Still, I ignored it. When it happened a third time, I rolled over and grabbed it, begrudgingly checking the screen. Miller’s name flashed. I knew if he was worried he might call dozens of times, so I answered, even though I didn’t feel like it.
“I’m fine,” I groaned.
“You need to turn on the news in three minutes.”
I sat up. “Why? What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know. But apparently Christian is holding a news conference at eight thirty.”
“About what?”
“I have no idea. They didn’t say.”
“What channel?”
“Sports Network. I only found out because the Hell’s Kitchen episode I’m watching is a rerun, so I was bored and read the dumb ticker at the bottom giving a news update.”
“Alright, hang on.” I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand and went in search of the Sports Network’s livestream. “I’ll call you back, okay?”
“Yeah, go. I’m going to watch, too.”
I watched ads play on the screen until the news conference’s stream went live. Christian walked in and sat down at a dais in front of a dozen microphones. The backdrop was a wall with the Sports Network logo all over it.
My heart fluttered. He was as handsome as ever, but his face looked thinner and his eyes were sunken, like he hadn’t been sleeping well. I turned the volume all the way up as I waited for him to speak.
“Good evening.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile, more like a polite one. “Thank you for coming. I’ll make this short and sweet because I’m sure you all have better news to cover than my sorry ass.”
I couldn’t see how many reporters were there, but a murmur of laughter went around the room.
“As you all know, my contract with the Bruins is up after this season. Today, I made the difficult decision not to continue with the team next year.”
Holy shit.
People started shouting questions, but Christian motioned with his hands for everyone to settle down.
“The New York Bruins has been my home for ten years, and I very much appreciate the dedication they have shown me. But sometimes it’s necessary to pick up your roots and plant them somewhere else. I’m sure you’ll want to know if this is a contract dispute, and I’m here to assure you it’s not. The Bruins made me what I consider a very generous offer to remain with the team. My decision is not about money.”
Someone from the audience yelled, “Christian, are you injured?”
He shook his head. “I’m not injured. The tears in my knee that were repaired earlier this year continue to hold strong, and I’ve had no other changes in my health since I was cleared to return to play earlier this season.” He leaned closer to the microphone. “This is not about my health or money. This is a personal decision I’ve made, and it was not made lightly.”
Another person yelled, “Are you retiring?”
Christian shook his head. “No, I’m not retiring. You’re all stuck with me for at least another five years, hopefully more.”
The camera flashed to Mike Dietrich, a popular sports reporter. “This morning, New England announced some very unexpected trades to free up cash and stay under the salary cap. Can you tell us if that’s where you’re headed?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss where I might be going yet. But I can tell you that once the deal is inked, you’ll be the first to know.” Christian flashed his signature cocky smile. “I’ll also mention that I think New England is beautiful in the fall, and I recently purchased an old campground in Vermont that I hope to someday make into a football camp for kids when I retire.”
My heart raced. An old campground in Vermont? That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Christian knocked on the table. “Any other questions before I go?”
Mike Dietrich again spoke up. “Even with the trades New England made, they’re not going to be able to pay you what it was rumored the Bruins offered—not by at least ten million. Does that mean you’re willing to take a pay cut?”
Christian had been speaking to the room, but now he lifted his head and looked straight at the camera. “There are some things more important than money. I’m hoping this move will give me a fresh start, and I’m hoping I’ll not be alone in making it.”
I had no idea what anyone said after that. Christian answered a few more questions and then thanked everyone for coming and got up. Sports Network cut to its regularly scheduled programming—as if things could go back to normal after what Christian had just done. I sat in my bed stunned for a few minutes before my phone rang again. Of course it was Miller.
“Am I crazy, or did Christian just announce he’s taking a ten-million-dollar pay cut because he can’t work for the team of the guy who killed your mother? And instead he’s moving to the city where you always wanted to live and bought the campground that holds your favorite childhood memories?”