Page 58 of Puck Sweat Love

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he chews on that for a beat. “All right. Just know I have my eye on you. If we want this team back on top this year, we can’t afford any liabilities.”

The implication is clear: in his eyes, I’m still a liability. And I might always be. There might be no changing his mind. And if that’s the case, then I’m fucked.

“Is there anything else?” I ask, struggling to keep my tone professional as my thoughts continue to spiral.

“Nope, just get back to work,” he says. “You’ve got a lot to prove.”

He walks away, leaving me seething. I want to punch something, to tip my head back and roar at the ceiling, to find Garcia and show him exactly what happens when you push a man too far. But I can’t. That’s what they’re waiting for: proof that I haven’t changed, that I’m still the volatile hothead who will crack under pressure.

I go back to my breath, closing my eyes this time as I imagine Steph talking me through my three-part breathing until I’m calm enough that my blood is no longer rushing in my ears.

When I open them, Stone is already beside me. “You good?”

“Nope,” I admit. “But I’m holding it together.”

He glances around before lowering his voice. “I saw Hartley over here. What did he want?” I give him a brief sum-up of the conversation, confirming his suspicion that Hartley’s experience with his brother-in-law is definitely playing a part here.

Stone’s jaw tightens. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, bullshit or not, it’s reality.” I run a hand through my sweat-dampened hair.

He exhales, his lips pressing together before he adds, “Look, I have an idea, something that might help change the narrativearound here. Let’s grab a beer later and talk. Around seven of so?”

“I’m meeting Stephanie at the studio around then,” I say. “We need to work through some stuff, but I could meet up after if she’s cool with that. Around nine maybe?”

“Yeah, totally,” he says. “Just let me know. And if you need to stay with your lady, that’s fine. We can hook up on Wednesday sometime.”

I nod, grateful for his support. “Sounds good. Thanks, man.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Just don’t do anything stupid between now and then, okay?”

I manage a weak smile. “No promises.”

The rest of the afternoon drags on, a blur of drills, conditioning exercises, and strategy sessions. I keep my head down and my mouth shut, focusing on performing at my best despite the increasingly obvious bias against me.

After we finally wrap up for the day, I shower and change quickly, eager to stuff something in my face for dinner and get to Steph. The prospect of seeing her is the only bright spot in an otherwise hellish day. I grab a burrito at a counter service place not far from the rink, chewing methodically as I stare out at the street, painted in golden, early evening light.

It’s already rosier than it was at this time last week.

Autumn, and the start of the season, is right around the corner. Just two days ago, I was so ready, so eager for October and that first game.

But now…

Now, I just need to go talk to Teach, before I fuck up the only thing that’s actually going right in my life.

The ride to her studio is exactly what I need. The cool evening air clears my head, and the focus required to navigate trafficforces me to stay in the moment instead of going back down the “today was another shit show” rabbit hole.

By the time I park outside the studio, I’m feeling better than I have all day. The lights are still on inside, a warm beacon against the gathering dark. The last few students are filtering out, their faces relaxed and peaceful after time with my girl.

She does that for people. She gives them peace, hope, the ability to find a safe space inside of themselves, even in the midst of life’s chaos.

She’s just…the best.

And I suddenly need to tell her.

Leaving my helmet clipped to the seat, I head inside, the familiar jingle of the bell above the door adding to the warmth spreading through my chest. The lobby is empty, but I hear movement in the studio, a faint snuffling I’m guessing is my buddy, Mr. Sniffles. I follow the sound, smile widening as soon as I see Steph there at the equipment shelf, her back turned to me as she straightens the blocks.

Thank God, she’s already alone.

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