Adrian (Ironfield Forge #1) - Sosie Frost Page 0,2
me?”
“I did.”
That’s what I liked best about Clover—she was the only woman who made honesty feel like a gift. Like her true feelings were a special secret reserved just for me.
I might’ve been the only person she ever let get that close, but I couldn’t figure out why she’d chosen me.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about things lately…” Clover picked at the fraying corner of a magazine tucked in the pouch ahead of me.
“Is this your proposition?”
She hesitated just long enough to deny me an answer so she could ask her own question. “How did you know it was time to leave the Marauders?”
“Well, getting drafted by the Forge didn’t give me much choice,” I said.
She didn’t smile. The magazine page ripped under her delicate fingertips.
“But how did you know that it was the right decision? What made you ask the team management to leave you unprotected for the draft?”
I wasn’t expecting this conversation. Also didn’t know what to say. I had an injury shadowing my every move and no championship rings to show for my sacrifice. It was enough to make any team nervous.
“It was best decision for my career,” I said. Wasn’t a good optimist, but at least I could be honest.
“And you knew…deep down…it’s what you wanted most?”
Not at all.
I wasn’t a risk taker like Clover. My life was strict, disciplined, and focused solely on the game. I spent my mornings doing drills on the ice, my afternoons in team meetings watching endless films, and spent my nights bleeding for the game with every shot I took on goal. I’d collapse into bed sore and exhausted and desperate for the chance to do it all again.
I lived, breathed, and trained only for hockey.
And I didn’t see a reason to think of anything else.
“Not sure anyone ever knows what they truly want,” I said. “They’re just looking for that break in the defense for a chance to score.”
“See, I don’t believe that.” Clover swept imaginary pretzel crumbs from her skirt. “I think, at some level, people know what’s best for them. They might fight it or deny it, but deep down, our darkest desire isn’t a big surprise.” She hesitated. “So…why did you leave Atwood for Ironfield?”
Because I didn’t have a choice.
The Marauders had been one goal away from a championship win last year, and I’d watched the crushing defeat from the team’s private box.
Wasn’t sure what hurt more—the loss or the injury that had prevented me from leading the team to what should’ve been our victory.
And after the loss—with the whispers in the locker room, the backhanded questions about my health from the coaches, and the constant media speculation about my ability to return to the ice—I learned that seven years of loyalty to one team meant nothing when the future of the franchise was on the line.
Fortunately, the announcement of the Forge gave me the opportunity I needed. Expansion teams were permitted unique privileges. They drafted one player from each team to jumpstart their lineups. Each franchise was permitted to protect certain players from the draft. Seven forwards. Three defensemen. One goalie. But, with twenty-three men on the roster, that meant twelve players existed in a state of limbo—unsure if it’d be them who had to leave everything behind and start something new.
My former teammates all but begged to stay with the Marauders.
Me?
I had the stigma of an injury. And the Marauders didn’t trust me as foolishly as I’d trusted them. No sense living under constant scrutiny and doubts. If I was to be a part of a team, I demanded their faith in me. With that shattered, I had nothing left in Atwood.
And so, I’d petitioned to be drafted. And I welcomed the new opportunities—not just on the ice but growing a brand-new team in a brand-new city with brand-new players.
“I saw a chance to do something great and went for it.” I batted her away from my drink, and then handed her the cup when she pouted. “Why?”
She sipped my Ginger Ale with a quiet sort of indecision. “It’s a big change in your life.”
“Yeah.”
“And it comes with a lot of new responsibilities and challenges.”
That was part of the fun. “Never bothered me before.”
“But the potential is there for something wonderful, don’t you think?”
What the hell was she getting at?
“It wasn’t an easy decision, but it had some perks,” I said. “Like getting to move closer to you—especially since you refuse to use FaceTime.”
She wasn’t convinced. “My nose looks weird over FaceTime.”