A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

Malik drove us in tense silence to this immigration lawyer’s office, which smells like old sub sandwiches. Then I listened to them argue about terms I only vaguely know and understand. P1-A and O1-A and petitions for renewal and so on. What I do understand: I have to go back to Canada to file a new visa. But this could take time, and there’s no guarantee I’ll keep my spot on the team. The Appies may be an AHL team, but we’re arguably as recognizable as any NHL team now, thanks to social media. Guys are begging to get traded here. And I have—or had, until now—no intention of going anywhere. How did this even happen? Between the team’s administrative staff and me being a functioning adult, there’s no good reason. I could have gone to Canada in the off-season this summer and taken care of this. Had I remembered or been reminded by the people who manage this stuff that I needed to do so. When I first got signed to Denver and moved stateside, I was eighteen. Mom handled talking to the team about the visa stuff. I have a vague memory of hearing about the cap on my visa. How I could renew here after five years but would need to go back to Canada after ten. I also remember thinking this seemed like a problem for Later Eli. Hello, Later Eli. I wish I could say it’s good to see you. But it’s really, really not. I lean back in my chair, playing with a pen I found on Mr. Pebbles’s desk. “You’re sure there’s no loophole? A clause? An extra payment option?” Grant’s eyes cut to me. “No. ...