Page 94 of Unleashed

“Yeah, Dad.” I leaned against the wall, surprised by the unusual softness in his voice.

“Your mother and I watched that tribute episode again last night.” His voice roughened with emotion. “Got me thinking maybe I spent too much time focused on Cup rings instead of seeing everything else you built. The lives you touched. The example you set.”

My throat tightened. “Dad...”

“Let me finish. When you were in Juniors, you stood up to that coach who was bullying your linemate. Remember that?”

“Course I do.” The memory hit hard—my first real moment of stepping in, of refusing to let a teammate take the hit alone.

“That’s when I knew you’d be a leader. Not because you were the best player—though you were damn good—but because you knew your teammates mattered and weren’t afraid to fight for them.” He cleared his throat. “Watching that tribute, seeing all those players talk about how you helped shape them... That’s the legacy that matters, son.”

I pushed off the wall, something loosening in my chest that I hadn’t even known was tight. “I thought you’d be disappointed. About the knee. About retiring without—”

“The only thing that could disappoint me is if you stopped being the man who stands up for what matters.” His voice carried fierce pride now. “This development center of yours? Teaching the next generation? That’s exactly where you should be.”

“Thanks, Dad.” The words came rough, but heartfelt.

“Now, between us we have to come up with a way to convince your mother she doesn’t need to pack a month’s worth of food for you. You moved to Virginia! She’s sure you must be missingTourtièreof all things. Did she think you had them in Austin? Your mother and her ideas. She informed me this morning I’d need to make room forsauce à la viandein my carry-on. Time to come up with a story, son, because I am not packing all this food...”

I laughed, the sound coming easier than it had in months. Because maybe this was better than any Cup ring—having my father see me, really see me, for who I was rather than the dreams he’d had for me. Took more than thirty years, but it damn sure felt good.

Chapter Thirty

Lily

Hockey Rule #117: Know when to hit—and when to hold your ground

Media Rule #117: You don’t have to shout to take control of the room

Thewarpedfloorboardsgroanedunder my boots as I paced the office, each step stirring up the scent of old lumber and iron nails. We were probably looking at some renovation work soon, if we decided to stay. Thunder growled somewhere beyond the windowpanes, low and restless, echoing the riot tumbling around in my chest.

Three Corners Productions had a real contract with the Renegades.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the man who made it possible.

Jack.

The way he’d stepped forward, all growly and unapologetic. The way his voice had dropped, rough with defense and threaded through with heat that slid beneath my ribs and settled low, warm and familiar and entirely out of place. My pulse had stuttered, completely abandoning the whole professionalism pretense.

“Will you please sit down?” Adele sprawled in her squeaky desk chair, feet propped on the edge of her desk. “You’re making me dizzy. And you’re stressing out Bright.”

My cat, curled up on his custom shelf above my desk, opened one eye and gave me his patented “foolish human” look. Traitor.

I pressed my thumb to the inside of my wrist, chasing a rhythm that refused to settle. One, two, three—too fast. “I just... What happened today?”

“What happened is we kicked Malone’s ugly-suit-wearing ass.” Adele’s grin stretched wide enough to light the whole damn block. “And landed a big legitimate contract that doesn’t require selling our souls.”

“Because Jack stepped in.” The words scraped free of my throat. “After everything I did to him in Austin, he still...”

“Showed up like some romance novel hero to save the day?” Adele’s eyes sparkled. “Girl, that man looked at you like you hung the moon. Even while defending your professional honor.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “He was just being...”

“If you say ‘nice’ I’m throwing my stapler at you.” She patted around her desk as if searching for her non-existent stapler before straightening in her chair and meeting my gaze head on. “That wasn’t nice, Lils. That was a man who watched your tribute and understood exactly why you made it. Who respected that choice enough to go toe-to-toe with Jasper freaking Pendleton.”

Thunder cracked overhead, brutal enough to rattle the windows. I jumped, breath catching as the lights flickered. Outside, downtown Three Corners blurred into shadow, the storm swallowing the streetlamps one gust at a time. Windwhooshedagainst the glass, but for me, the pressure was all internal—tight around my chest, pulsing in my throat.

“The contract terms are incredible.” I sank into my chair, fingers finding my laptop keyboard by muscle memory. “Full creative control. No fake rivalries. No scripted locker room drama. Just honest game coverage. Honest people.”

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