6. ASPEN

There has been a heated conversation going on since afternoon. Nathan informed us that he overheard the coaches discussing a possible trade happening soon, and my heart has been pounding wildly ever since.

Normally, I wouldn't have been affected, but I had been playing shitty since the past games and I'm afraid that they would want to exchange me for some other player.

If that happens, that will be the end of my scholarship.

Sweat pours through my body at the thought. My mom barely has enough to take care of the family and if I lose this goddamn opportunity I'd been given, it'd be over for me. I would be expected to return home and find a job and then my dream of making it to the NHL would be over.

No, I shake my head so hard that it starts to throb.

When I was a kid, whenever I was asked what profession I wanted to take, my answer was always hockey. I'd had passion for that sport ever since I was four, and over the years as I grew up, it became clear it was the career I was going to choose.

But I'd realized too late in my high school that it takes a lot of money to become a professional hockey player, and that was something my parents didn't have. I had almost given up all hope, already thinking of which job to take on or a trade to learn when luckily for me, the scholarship offer came in and I was one of not too many players to get it.

Ever since, I'd cherished the opportunity I'd been given. I worked so hard to become the best forward in my team, and as a reward, I got chosen to become the captain. It was the dream of every player so I knew not to take it for granted, and it became the force that pushed me to work hard. To prove to the coaches that they made the right decision by making me the leader of my team.

Until. Now.

“Earth to you, pal,” someone nudges me, and I blink as I try to collect myself. Nathan snaps a finger in my face, giving me a worried look. “Where did your mind run to?”

I sigh, “Do u think the coaches would trade me?” I ask, watching every emotion that passes through his face.

But what he does is exactly the opposite of what I expected. He bursts out laughing.

Narrowing my eyes on him, I part my lips to ask him what's funny but he beats me to it.

“You're crazy.”

Now the whole team is watching us, but that doesn't stop Nathan from laughing harder than ever.

Embarrassed, I start to get up to leave but then he places a hand on my lap and pushes me back down.

“Do u really think the coaches would choose to trade you?” Ethan snorts in disbelief. “Just because you failed the last game doesn't mean you're a shitty player.”

I shake my head, he's not getting it. Glancing at the other guys, I turn to them for help but they all nod their heads in agreement.

“I've been playing shitty for a long time now, and with the way Coach Harvey spoke to me after we lost, something tells me I'd be the one getting kicked out of the team.”

“Sorry to say this, Cap, but you have a shitty mind,” Dexter says, folding his arms across his chest, his glare fixed on me.

I clench my jaw, trying to hold back the retort bubbling in my throat. Dexter’s been extra salty with me ever since he was assigned a new roommate, someone he claims snores like a freight train. He blames me, of course. Like I have any control over room assignments.

“You’re not helping,” I say flatly, shooting him a look.

“Not trying to,” Dexter replies with a shrug.

Before I can respond, Lennon appears, his arrival marked by the shuffle of papers and the faint click of his glasses being adjusted. He’s clutching a thick textbook in one hand, a notebook under his arm, and a pen tucked behind his ear. As usual, his backpack is practically bursting at the seams.

“Who’s got a shitty mind?” Lennon asks, raising a curious brow as he adjusts his glasses. His messy curls look like he’s been running his fingers through them—a telltale sign he’s been buried in his books.

“Your best friend,” Dexter replies with a smirk, jerking his chin toward me.

Lennon frowns and sets his books down on the bench before turning to me. “Aspen? What’s going on?”

Nathan jumps in before I can answer. “Aspen thinks he’s getting traded.”

Lennon stares at me like I just declared the moon is made of cheese. “You?” he asks, his voice dripping with skepticism. “Why would they trade you? Why would you think that?”

“Because it makes sense,” I mutter, staring at the floor. “I’ve been playing like crap, and Coach Harvey basically said I’m dragging the team down. If anyone’s getting traded, it’s me.”

“Okay, first of all,” Lennon says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “that’s a terrible conclusion. Second, you’re not getting traded. You’re the captain. Do you know how much the team relies on you?”

“That’s what I told him,” Nathan adds, shaking his head.

“You don’t get it,” I say, my voice tight. “If I lose my spot, I lose my scholarship. And if that happens, I’m done. My family can’t afford to send me back here without it.”

If there’s anyone who understands me like no one else, it’s Lennon. We’ve been best friends since we were four, and ever since, we’ve been inseparable. We do almost everything together—except studying. While I’m out on the ice, Lennon’s the brightest kid in school, yet he’s somehow the most humble person I know. Anyone else in his shoes would be walking around with their head in the clouds, but not Lennon. He keeps his genius grounded, and that's one of the reasons he's been my rock all these years.

Lennon blinks at me, then sets his book down carefully, as if preparing for a serious discussion. “Aspen, you’re overthinking this. Coaches don’t trade captains lightly, especially not ones who’ve carried the team like you have. And even if you’ve been off your game lately, that doesn’t erase everything you’ve done.”

“Exactly,” Nathan chimes in. “You’re like... the glue holding this team together.”

Dexter snorts, folding his arms tighter. “More like the duct tape, but yeah.”

The guys burst out laughing, and even I can’t help but crack a smile. Lennon smiles at me, the kind of smile that says he’s already thought of three ways to prove his point, probably involving charts or stats.

“Trust me, Aspen,” Lennon says, his tone unwavering. “You’re not going anywhere. And if you need me to convince Harvey, I’m happy to drop by his office with a full analysis of your contribution to the team’s performance.”

“Please don’t,” I say, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“Suit yourself,” Lennon replies with a shrug, grabbing his books. “But if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Now that we’ve had our emotional moment, I have a proposition,” Lennon says, his smirk returning. “I’ll quiz you on stats later if you stop spiraling. Deal?”

Willow snorts. “Only you would think stats are the solution to everything.”

Lennon shrugs. “They usually are.”

Despite myself, I chuckle. The tension in my chest starts to ease as the team shifts their focus back to their gear and chatter.

Fifteen minutes later, and I'd had forgotten all about the trade until we received information that the players traded has been announced on the notice board.

Even as Lennon and my Nathan's words echo in my mind, it doesn't stop my heart from beating wildly as I follow the others to the notice room.

I scan the list quickly, my eyes darting over the first name.

Scott Carter, our fourth-liner, was listed first. I exhale a shaky breath, relief flooding my chest. But then my eyes move down the list.

Kelly Blackwell.

My stomach drops.

No.

It can't be.

Fucking no.