Fighting For More

trudged to the locker room. Every hug and handshake and wish-you-well thickened the lump in his throat and added weight to the lead balloon in his stomach.
His phone rang the moment he climbed into his car. His stomach tightened at the Buffalo Bedlam on his display. "Hello?"
"Mr. Brennan." A woman's voice, cool and clipped and a shade familiar, came through the speaker.
"Yes."
"This is Kelsey Fraser with the Buffalo Bedlam."
He leaned against the headrest. A Kelsey Fraser had appeared on the Jumbotron during the game, in a clip interviewing a Bedlam player during one of the game's commercial breaks. He and McSorely had been discussing strategy so he hadn't gotten a good view of her, but he'd glimpsed long brown hair and he'd know that cool voice anywhere. She couldn't be related to Dylan, could she?
"We have you on a seven o'clock flight out of LAX."
He glanced at the dashboard clock. Already two PM. That wasn't a lot of time.
"I've also made a hotel reservation for you and will have a driver waiting for you at the terminal when you arrive. If you'll give me your email address, I'll send over all the information. You can get your boarding pass when you check in at the airport."
He blinked at her frosty tone and relayed his information. On the interview piece, her voice had been welcoming and friendly. The opposite of the icy reception coming his way.
"The driver will pick you up from the hotel at nine-thirty tomorrow." The faint click of fingers tapping a keyboard accompanied her voice. "You need to be at our practice facility at ten o'clock. The receptionist will direct you to my office, and then you'll meet the GM after that."
"I'll see you then."
"If you have any questions or issues, you have my number." The call disconnected.
He frowned at the phone as the screen faded to black.
So much for a warm welcome.
He fought traffic, then spent the next few hours packing and talking to his dad and brothers and his agent. Then fought traffic again via a cab driver with a death wish, and arrived at LAX with two suitcases, a suit bag, and his hockey stuff. His phone continued to vibrate with messages from his now-former teammates wishing him well.
He looked at the board to see the flight status and gate number. His flight wasn't listed.
Frowning, he approached a clerk at the counter. She offered him a bright smile. "Where are you traveling to today, sir?"
"I'm heading to Buffalo, but I think there may be a stop in between."
"May I see your ID? I'll look up your reservation." She looked at her computer. "Sir, your flight was at four o'clock."
"Four?" He thought back to his conversation with Kelsey. No, she'd definitely said seven. And realization dawned. She'd given him her time zone, not his. "So my flight is currently somewhere over the middle of the country?"
Shit.
"I need to be in Buffalo tomorrow morning for a ten o'clock meeting."
The woman continued to click on her computer. "There aren't any direct flights until tomorrow afternoon. The only flight that will get you there before your meeting leaves at eight o'clock tonight. I can put you on that. You'll have nearly an hour layover in Baltimore, then a ninety-minute layover in Detroit, and will arrive in Buffalo at nine-fifteen their time tomorrow morning."
"Okay, I'll take it." He tried to tamp down his frustration, both at Kelsey and at himself for not confirming the information earlier, but it pulsed hot under his skin.
He never could sleep on planes, so he'd arrive in dark and freezing Buffalo and not have any time to sleep at the hotel before meeting his new team. Great, just great.
She checked his bags and handed him the boarding pass and wished him a good evening. He doubted the evening would improve but appreciated her optimism.
As he waited in the long line at security, he brought up Kelsey's email, then visited the Bedlam's site and looked for her under their list of team personnel.
His breath caught in his lungs as her photo filled the screen. Stunning, with dark brown hair that fell in waves and blue eyes more like storm clouds than a tropical sea, she smiled right at him. Sure enough, her bio confirmed she was Dylan and Rod's sister, and the daughter of a hockey legend.
If she hated him with the same passion as the rest of the Bedlam fans—and from her tone on the phone call he guessed that she did—then maybe she'd fucked with him on purpose.
Curiosity at what the fans were saying about the trade ate at his resolve to stay off social media. He clicked to his accounts. Tons of messages and posts poured in from irate Bedlam fans protesting the trade, protesting his presence on their team and in their town. Sports radio joined in, stirring up the tension. It was unanimous. They didn't want him there, in no uncertain terms.
Three months to endure until the season was over. He'd put in his time, try to help the team win. Then, he'd get the hell out of town.
He already couldn't wait to leave.

CHAPTER TWO
KELSEY SET DOWN HER phone and pushed away from her desk. Ready or not, Leo Brennan was in the building and on his way to her office. All morning, anger had gnawed at her stomach and needled her nerves with little pinpricks ready to fight. Preparing for meeting with him wasn't as easy as welcoming another player to the team.
The hit he'd laid on Dylan hadn't been malicious, but it still had hurt her brother pretty badly, and every time she saw Leo's face in a game highlight or read his name in the league stats, her mind replayed the awful moment when Dylan's head had hit the ice.
Her stomach clutched at the memory and soured the triple espresso she'd downed in defense of a night spent tossing and turning and imagining how the meeting would go.
Sleepless nights before big games against rival teams during