SKY’S POV
The meeting was set for nine in the morning, which told me something before anyone said a word. Nobody scheduled good news for nine in the morning. Good news could wait until after lunch.
I sat outside the conference room for six minutes before they called me in. Six minutes is a long time to sit in a hallway with nothing to look at but a framed photo of last year’s home opener. I’d made two saves in that photo. I remembered both of them better than I remembered most of my own life outside hockey.
Reyes met me at the door. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look like a man walking me into an execution either. Somewhere in between.
“Just answer straight,” he said, low enough that only I heard it. “Don’t perform for them.”
Inside, three people sat on the other side of a long table
