It hadn't been a shock that the Knights had moved forward with their plan to trade me, not really, but the way it'd ended up going down—man, was it rough.

The hours had been winding down to the deadline, yet through morning workout, practice, and the team meeting after, not a word came down from the front office. In fact, for a few moments, there'd been a growing bubble of hope that the stress I'd been shouldering the last couple weeks would simply fall away. That there'd be no trade, and nothing would change.

Boy was I wrong.

When the team returned to the locker room after watching game film, the team's general manager was waiting. Waiting for me. Waiting to rip me from my teammates, and without the decency to pull me aside, he began his address in front of them.

"Wellsley," he'd said with a strong and commanding tone, "you'll need to collect your things and say your goodbyes. The Royals are expecting you at their practice facility tomorrow morning, and you've got a spot booked on a flight out in four hours." There was no wavering from his side, even as I stood stock still, absorbing his words despite the uncomfortable gazes coming from the guys around me. "Your agent has been notified and sent the appropriate information, and we advise you speak with him before meeting with your new team in Los Angeles. And finally, thank you." He offered his hand, and not fully processing, I shook it. "Thank you for the work you've put into this team the last couple of years. We appreciate it and can't wait to see your career grow with your new team."

It was to the point, informational, and absolutely heartless.

The next hour was a haze of goodbyes, see-you-soons, and the most awkward ride back to the apartment with Nyberg. Though now it was only his apartment, and his alone.

"This isn't how I wanted today to go, you know," he said, brows furrowed as he leaned against the doorway to my room as I pulled together what I could into a suitcase.

"But we both saw it coming," I replied, my voice still void of any emotion. It'd been that way since I'd received the trade news, and honestly, would probably be like that until I got a moment to myself to process that this was really happening.

I was headed back to the west coast. To Los Angeles. To play for the Royals.

Nyberg shrugged. "Doesn't mean it doesn't suck. I mean, who's going to yell at the TV with me while I watch our opponents play one another, or carpool to practice with me, or help out with Scout by taking him on walks?"

Whether it was hearing his name, or the word 'walk', Scout began bounding down the hall, barking up a storm as he skidded into the room. Circling Nyberg for a few seconds, his attention was quickly refocused when he noticed the state of my room. Sniffing around, it was like he could tell that I was packing to leave—and not just for a road trip.

"Hey buddy," I said, combing my hands through his fur as he looked at me with sad dog eyes. "I know you can probably see that I'm leaving, but I just want you to know that it's not by choice. I'd stay with you forever if I could." His tongue darted out to lick my cheek affectionately. "I love you too, but I'm going to need you to pretend Nyberg's your favorite from now on. I know it'll be difficult, but—"

"You do know he's my dog, right?" Nyberg cut in, quirking a brow. "He's always loved me more."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Of course," he said with a scoff, crouching down and tapping his knees. "Scout, come over here boy. Here, Scout."

While my expression didn't show it, it was much to my amusement that Scout glanced his way for a moment before nuzzling his nose into my neck.

"See," I said, wrapping both arms around Scout as I hugged him close, "he loves me more."

"He's only being affectionate because he can sense you're leaving," Nyberg grumbled, though his features became sheepish as he realized what he'd said. "Not that, you know, you leaving is a good thing or anything, just—"

"Don't worry, I got what you meant."

Apparently this trade was also affecting the way one of my best mates shot the shit with me off the ice. Great.

"Speaking of which," I said, running my hand through my hair as I stood up, "think you can drop me off at the airport? I should be done with this mess in twenty minutes or so."

"Sure thing man, whatever you need."

"And about rent..."

"Don't even worry about it, man."

"But—"

"Seriously dude, don't worry about it," he said adamantly. "I know we leased this place together and you feel responsible for your half, but I'm more than capable of paying the full rent. I mean, you know my salary, it's not going to put that much of a dent in my finances. Maybe I'll even turn your room into a workout space." His lips curved during his attempt at a joke, but the expression swiftly turned sober as his gaze arced around the room. "All you need to be worried about moving forward is how you're going to fit into the Royals lineup and what the next couple months in L.A. are going to look like. No need to be thinking about Boston."

His words made a small fracture in the armor that I'd built after receiving the trade news, making it evident that I was leaving a lot more than just a team here. I was leaving men that had become my brothers over the years, and Nyberg was the closest of them all. Now, instead of being a few meters away, he'd be miles away. A country would span between us, and while I knew we'd stay in touch, it really was the end of an era for our friendship.

"Thanks, man," I said, clearing my throat in an effort not to get choked up. Walking over, I pulled him into a tight embrace and clapped him on the back. "I'm going to miss you."

Though Nyberg's voice seemed just as scratchy as mine as he returned the hug and said, "I'm going to miss you too."

***

"Well, I guess this is it then," Nyberg said as he pulled into a drop-off parking space at Logan Airport. "At least until you're out here with the Royals in a few weeks for a game."

Because as if starting with another team mid-season wasn't stressful enough, this season's schedule had me flying back out to Boston to play the Knights in just three weeks' time.

"I guess it is," I replied. Not wanting to get into another goodbye like back at the apartment, I unbuckled and grabbed my carry-on from the back seat. "Thanks for the ride, and I'll call you once I'm settled to coordinate shipping my truck and the rest of my shit out."

"Sounds good." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "You need help with the stuff in the trunk?"

I shook my head. "I'm good." Holding my fist out, he bumped his own against mine. "I'll see you later."

"Later."

It took a while to locate a luggage cart to load my bags on, because while I'd only had about forty minutes to pack up all I could, I also had my hockey equipment and game day suits to lug across the country. Which left me with three large bags and a backpack as I waved once more to Nyberg and stepped through the automatic doors of Logan International.

Though I was thoroughly unprepared for what awaited me.

Before I could make it to the Delta baggage drop and check-in, a small huddle of photographers and sports journalists spotted me and immediately jumped at their chance for a story.

Having not wanted to deal with the aftermath of the trade becoming official, I'd shot off a quick text to my agent after receiving the news to let him know that I'd call him tonight once I landed before powering down my phone. Though clearly I'd been naïve enough to think that just because I was still letting it sink in, the rest of Boston—hell, the country—would too.

The trade deadline itself was probably one of the top trending things on Twitter right now, and given the speculation around my own situation before things had gone through, I wouldn't be surprised if half the Knights fans in the city were currently letting their thoughts be known right this minute.

And I'd unknowingly walked right into a trap, because of course the press would follow the guy getting booted from his team to the airport.

"Derrick, how does it feel to be leaving Boston after calling it home for more than five years?"

"Did you know Los Angeles was on the table?"

"Are you up for the challenge of navigating a new system of play with the Royals?"

"Do you know how the Royals plan to slot you into their lineup, or are you going in blind?"

"What's going through your head right now?"

The honest answer to that last one was I wanted to be left the fuck alone, but I held my tongue. Trying to maneuver around the small crowd of people was no use, but thankfully as the scene began to draw the attention of others, two guards came over to break things up. It wasn't inconspicuous by any means, but they escorted me to the check-in counter and made sure I passed through security without any press following me.

Meaning I finally had a chance to breathe as I headed for my gate.

Stopping for a quick perusal of snacks, I bought a Gatorade and bag of chips before finding an empty spot in the waiting area, shrugging off my jacket as I took a seat. A jacket that happened to have the Knights' logo and my number on it. Something I definitely wouldn't be wearing again.

Though my hat also had the Knights' logo on it, and while I could've pulled it off as well, I didn't want to risk it being even easier for the people around to recognize me. Instead, I hunched over, cracked open the snacks, and bit the bullet by turning my phone back on—needing something more than just my own thoughts to pass the time until my flight boarded.

Sure enough, once things were powered up, a myriad of notifications began to blow up my screen. Messages from friends, family, and Knights players saying they'd keep in touch. Coach Davidson letting me know he wanted to hop on a call once I'd settled in Los Angeles. Missed calls and numerous voicemails. Facebook and Twitter notifications from strangers and friends alike tagging me in posts about the trade news. It was an overload—exactly what I didn't need.

Wanting to simply play Candy Crush in peace, I pulled up the settings to turn airplane mode on and put a stop to it all, but before I could, a call came through.

A call from Lia.

While my thumb had been hovering over the decline button, something inside me drew me towards accepting the call.

"Hello."

"Derrick, hi," she said with a squeak, seemingly surprised that I'd picked up. "Sorry, I was so busy at work this afternoon that I just saw the news and didn't know if you would pick up. If you were ignoring everyone or already on your way to Los Angeles or what."

Somehow, her rambling was able to sprout the smallest of smiles on my lips. "Well, hopefully you had a better day at work than I did," I said, trailing off as I picked at a loose thread on my sweatpants.

"I... did," she replied carefully. "But that's not why I'm calling. I don't know if you want to talk about it, and obviously if you don't, that's cool and I totally understand, but I figured you wouldn't have wanted to talk about everything with your teammates. Or former teammates, I guess. So, this is me volunteering to be the person you can bitch to about being traded."

A low chuckle escaped me. "So eloquently put."

"And if not today, I'm just a phone call away."

"No, right now is fine, I guess. I'm just at the airport waiting to head out," I said, fixating my gaze on the window, watching the planes land and take off as I recounted the events that'd led to this moment. It wasn't necessarily fun, rehashing how everything had gone down, but it was therapeutic, being able to actually let my anger come through as I spoke.

"Wow," Lia said once all was said and done. "So they really just up and fired you in front of everyone and then fed you to the wolves with the press?"

When she put it that way—so straightforward and blunt—it hurt even more to think about. "I mean, fired is a bit of a stretch since I technically still have a spot in the league, but yeah, more or less."

"What assholes."

"I knew it was coming though, and I guess I can vaguely remember a few other players over the years being told they'd been traded in front of the rest of the guys, but I never imagined I'd be in that situation."

"Still... the Knights are going to regret letting you go."

"We'll see."

"They will," she reiterated sharply. "You're going to go out to Los Angeles, gel with the guys on the Royals, and make a great run for the Cup in the playoffs. Hell, soon enough you'll probably look back on your time with the Knights and be thankful they traded you."

"I don't know about that."

"Too much?" she asked sheepishly.

"Maybe a little," I mused, "but thanks for the vote of confidence."

"No problem. You're a great player, Derrick, and just because you'll be playing for another team now, that doesn't change the fact that you have skills. Skills millions wish they could have."

"I know, I think it'll just be a bit of a readjustment once I get out there," I said, pausing for a moment before taking the opportunity to address the other elephant in the room. Or elephant on the line. "Speaking of which..."

"Yeah," she replied softly, trailing off with the understanding of where I was going.

"With me out in Los Angeles, we won't really be able to see each other all that much. I know you're busy with your research and I'm going to be up to my neck in new plays as I figure out how to fit into the team dynamic, so—"

"Derrick, it's fine, really," she insisted, her voice genuine. "We've been casual about things for a reason, and I think we both knew this was coming."

"Right," I said, nodding, "but I guess I was wondering how you felt about still being friends? Because while the sex was obviously great—"

She laughed. "Obviously."

"—so were conversations like this one." It'd been so long since I'd been comfortable talking about anything and everything with someone, because while my teammates had been close, we didn't really chat about things below surface level. And now I was leaving all those guys behind too. I needed one constant to hold onto as I headed out west, and I wanted it to be Lia. "So... what do you say?"

"About being friends?"

"Yeah."

"Derrick, we are friends. Just because the dates and sex are going away, that doesn't change things."

"Great," I chirped, a little too happily. A wave of relief rushed through me, knowing this wasn't a goodbye call, but there was also a part of me that wanted her to know I did want to see her again, if the chance came up. Clearing my throat, I continued. "You know, the Royals are playing the Knights in a few weeks, so I'll be back in Boston for a day or two. If you wanted to catch up that is."

"Yeah, just let me know when you're around and I'll see if I'm free," she replied. "Until then, I'll be drowning in all the extra work I made for myself before my defense."

"You're going to kill your defense, so just have that in the back of your mind when you're working."

"And you're going to kill it with the Royals, Derrick. I'll make sure to tune in to a game or two when I get the chance."

We stayed on the phone for a few minutes more, but before I knew it, an announcement that my flight was boarding sounded over the speakers and I ended the call, hopeful I'd talk to her again soon.

Whenthey called my zone for boarding, I pulled my hat down further—one I reallyneeded to trash at the first opportunity—and joined the line. And once I'dshown my ticket, that was that. Though my chin hung low, my feet moved forward,and I didn't look back as I boarded the plane headed for Los Angeles. 

a/n: remember to vote and leave your thoughts below in the comments!