Page 64 of The Hockey Contract

"Jackson," he acknowledged with a nod. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, sir." The automatic formality slipped out as it always did around him.

My father's attention shifted to Sienna. "I was reading about your bakery online." The statement hung with unspoken implications.

"Oh?" Sienna's voice remained casual, though I noticed her hands still momentarily in their task.

"Interesting situation. Financial difficulties significant enough to make local business news. Foreclosure notices. Loan rejections." He sipped his coffee with calculated casualness. "Then suddenly, all resolved with a whirlwind marriage to a professional athlete on the verge of a major endorsement deal."

The kitchen fell silent. My mother shot my father a warning look, which he ignored, his eyes fixed on Sienna.

"I wonder if my son properly vetted this arrangement," he continued, his tone deceptively mild. "If he considered all implications before entering into a legally binding contract with someone in such desperate financial circumstances."

Anger flared hot and immediate. "That's enough, Dad."

"It's a reasonable question," he countered. "You've never been impulsive, Jackson. Yet suddenly you're married to a woman whose business is failing, whose debt is substantial—"

"Her business isn't failing," I interrupted, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice. "Grandma Rose's Bakehouse is a Seattle institution with a loyal customer base and an owner who works harder than anyone I've ever met. Sienna took over during an economic downturn, then faced a corporate chain opening nearby—circumstances beyond her control that would have challenged any small business."

My father looked startled by my passionate defense. I continued, unable to stop now that I'd started.

"The bakery's financials have improved twenty percent since we implemented new marketing strategies. The hospital charity gala contract alone will bring significant exposure. Sienna has three new wholesale accounts with local restaurants. She's not desperate—she's determined, strategic, and incredibly talented."

The kitchen remained silent after my outburst. Sienna stared at me with wide eyes, clearly surprised by both the attack and my defense. My mother looked between us with a calculating expression, while my father's face remained impassive.

"I see," he said finally, setting down his cup. "You've certainly done your research."

The implied skepticism in his tone made me want to shake him. Instead, I met his gaze steadily. "I have. Because I believe in her and what she's building."

Before he could respond, my phone rang—Coach Miller's ringtone. I excused myself to answer, grateful for the interruption despite the unusual timing. The conversation was brief but concerning: Miller wanted an immediate meeting at the arena, no details provided over the phone.

"Everything okay?" Sienna asked when I returned to the kitchen.

"Coach needs to see me. Probably playoff strategy." I kissed her cheek—a now-familiar gesture that had started as performance but had become almost instinctive. "I shouldn't be long. Maybe you could show my parents the neighborhood while I'm gone?"

Sienna's slightly panicked expression at the prospect of entertaining my parents alone would have been comical under other circumstances. But she nodded bravely, already suggesting breakfast at a local café and a walk along the waterfront.

Once at the arena, I found Coach Miller in his office, a collection of sports blog printouts spread across his desk. His expression was grim as he gestured for me to sit.

"Problem?" I asked, scanning the papers without comprehension.

"Potentially." He handed me one printout. "Sports media is picking up on your... improved performance since the marriage."

The article headline read: "ICE MAN MELTS: HARRISON'S PLAY HEATS UP WITH NEW WIFE." Beneath were statistics comparing my performance metrics before and after marrying Sienna, highlighting improved offensive contributions and fewer penalty minutes.

"I don't see the issue," I said, setting the paper down. "Isn't better performance a good thing?"

"Better performance, yes. The narrative around it..." Miller sighed heavily. "Look, Harrison, I'm happy you found someone. Truly. But with playoffs approaching, I need your focus one hundred percent on hockey. The team needs the Ice Man at his best."

"My focus is on hockey," I assured him.

"Is it? Because that incident with Marco, the distracted play in Vancouver, the constant media attention—it all suggests otherwise." He leaned forward, expression serious. "I'm not saying there's a problem yet, but I've seen this before. Player gets married, personal life takes precedence, game suffers."

"That won't happen."

"I hope not." He straightened, his decision apparently made. "Nevertheless, I think it's best if Sienna reduces her presence at team events for now. No more practices, limited appearance at games, minimal team social functions until after playoffs."

The request, though professionally reasonable, struck a nerve. "She's my wife."

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