“What are your thoughts now?”

That Savage is an overrated prima donna asshole. “That management put together a winning team. All the guys worked hard and did what they had to do to bring the cup to Seattle. Heading into the playoffs we were fifty-eight and twenty-four. I don’t have to tell you that those are impressive numbers.” He paused and carefully thought out his next sentence. “It goes without saying that the Chinooks were fortunate that Savage was available and open to the trade.” He wasn’t about to say he was grateful or the team was lucky.

The overrated prima donna asshole next to him laughed, and Mark almost liked the guy. Almost.

The reporters turned their attention to Ty. As they asked about Savage’s sudden announcement to retire the night before and his plans for the future, Mark looked down at his hand on the table before him. He’d removed the splint for the press conference, but his right middle finger was as stiff as the stainless-steel rods and pins fusing it into a permanent fuck-you.

Appropriate, that.

The reporters asked questions of the other Chinooks seated at the long press table before the questions turned back to Mark. “Bressler, are you planning a comeback?” a reporter asked.

Mark glanced up and smiled as if the question didn’t poke at his deepest wound. He looked into the man’s face and reminded himself that Jim was an okay guy-for a reporter-and he’d always been fair. For that reason, Mark didn’t hold up his right hand and show his contempt. “The docs tell me no.” Although he didn’t need doctors to confirm what he’d known the moment he’d opened his eyes in the ICU. The accident that had broken half the bones in his body had shattered his life. A comeback was out of the question. Even if he’d been twenty-eight instead of thirty-eight.